Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 136507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
There’s a lengthy pause, and I know he’s wrestling between obeying an order from his superior and protecting a woman against this supposed violent criminal.
Logan slowly turns, his expression stony as it settles on me. “You heard her, Mike.”
I sigh heavily. That’s not going to help matters.
“Don’t you use my name like you know me—”
“It’s all good.” I check over my shoulder so Mike can see my face. “I’ve got this.”
With lips pressed tight and a steely-eyed glare of warning at Logan, he finally turns and disappears inside. I know he won’t go to Breanne, though. He’ll force his way behind the band setup for the only good view through the window.
When I turn back, Logan is watching me intently.
“What was that about with Hank Murphy?”
“Nothing.”
“Come on, that wasn’t nothing—”
“Seriously, Em, leave it alone,” he warns, his voice carrying an edge.
An OPP cruiser pulls into the parking lot then, answering the dispatched call. It’s probably Russell. He beats Dan almost every time.
Logan sees the car and curses. “Go inside.” He marches toward Jack’s truck.
My indignation flares. “Don’t you walk away from me when I’m talking to you!”
“What are you gonna do, arrest me?” he hollers, climbing into the passenger seat, slamming the door.
The tires kick up gravel as they pull out.
“You mother …” My curse fades, incomplete.
Russell rolls up, his window down. “Hey, Staff. What’s the sitch? Do you want me on the truck?”
“No, we’re all good. Didn’t materialize into anything. You can call off the dogs.”
“You got it.”
Russell radios dispatch as I survey the scene outside. A few people linger, including Holly and her friends. They’re sitting on the open tailgate of a truck, Holly’s bare legs dangling.
“Didn’t I tell you to get home?” I yell on my way back in, but I’m preoccupied with my spinning thoughts. What stash was Hank talking about? And what does Hank have to do with Dorsey, the guy who stabbed Logan? There isn’t anything about either of those cases that I haven’t read in the reports, a thousand times over.
So what isn’t in the reports?
Inside, the Bale House is back to its regularly scheduled programming, the band playing their instruments after that brief break and no one the wiser to what transpired.
Me included.
Mike and Breanne are huddled at the table, deep in conversation, when I return.
“Okay, seriously, what was all that?” Breanne waves her splayed fingers in the air toward the Murphy table.
Mike and I have worked together long enough that he knows when to prod, when to joke, and when to shut up. Breanne … Not so much. “Nothing. Comparing dick size.” But I don’t believe that.
Mike’s doubtful expression says neither does he. “That guy is wound tighter than a spool of copper wire. I wouldn’t want to be an innocent bystander around him when he snaps.”
“He’s not gonna snap,” I counter, but is that true?
Shawna arrives then with more drinks. “Another round on Matt for your help with averting a Friday night brawl.”
“That really isn’t necessary.” I find him behind the bar and shoot him a scolding look.
I get a wink in return. He’s such a damn flirt. It’s a refreshing contrast to the cold shoulder I got from Logan.
“You gonna be able to enjoy that?” Mike nods at my fresh glass of wine.
“No,” I admit as I pour half of it down my gullet, hoping that’ll take the edge off my nerves. But I already know it won’t, like I know I can’t sit a handful of tables away from Hank Murphy and relax.
The wretch must sense my watchful eye because he seeks me out, lifting his water glass in cheers to make a point. Most of the Murphys are here. All three of Ian’s kids, including Shane, who’s waiting for his day in court for that television bust and Axel, who’s wearing a tow truck company hat. Hank’s youngest son, Kyle, is here too.
My teeth grind as I check the opposite side of the bar, where Holt and Wyatt watch the Murphy table, probably asking the same questions I am. That poor family paid too dearly for Jay’s association with Ian. I won’t let it come back to haunt them again. But I can’t protect them if I don’t have the whole picture, and to have that, Logan needs to start talking. “Listen, I think I should—”
“Catch a ride home with Russell?” Mike cuts me off.
I frown. “What?”
“I already texted him. He’s waiting for you outside. I’ll stick around here and make sure there’s no more trouble from that lot.”
“Oh. Okay, thanks.” I half expected an argument about bailing early on them. “What about my—”
“Give me the keys. It’ll be in your driveway when you wake up.”
I manage a smile as I pass them over. “Thanks, Mike.”
“Never can take a break from catching those criminals, can you?” Breanne reaches across the table to squeeze my hand, flashing a devilish grin that’s laden with sexual innuendo.