Trouble (Bad Boy Homecoming Book 2)

by Avery Flynn

  She couldn't help her grin because she just knew this was gonna be good. "Go on."

  "We set up an exchange, but we'll only give it to Law."

  Oh yeah, she liked it. "Because it's the only way to guarantee Wynn and Miller won't hightail it to the buyer themselves and leave us vulnerable to Law's retribution."

  "Exactly." He nodded.

  "I like it." She looked up at him, a new appreciation for him softening her defenses. "You've got kind of a devious mind."

  "Nothing of the sort. I just believe the shortest distance between two points is a straight line."

  "That and a pair of handcuffs," she teased.

  His gaze dropped to her mouth. "They never hurt."

  Anticipation made her heart beat faster as he took a step closer, almost within touching distance. His focus never left her mouth. Sparks turned the air around them electric. She forgot to breathe, forgot to blink, forgot everything but Drew. Every nerve in her body buzzed with expectation. He was going to kiss her. She wanted it. God, did she want it. Her mouth parted as her body ignored the SOS her brain was sending out. She'd regret whatever was coming next after this was over, when her life was back to normal and she was back home in Denver. This sort of craziness was just part of life in Catfish Creek. His head dipped lower. She tilted her face up.

  And then, nothing.

  Muttering something that sounded a lot like "fuck me" under his breath, he stepped back and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.

  Her breath came back into her lungs in a whoosh, along with confusion, frustration, and annoyance. He wanted her. It was obvious. The other night had proved that beyond a reasonable doubt. Yet, last night he sent her to bed alone without a second glance and now he denied their attraction again.

  "Why are you doing this?" she asked, unable to keep the rawness from her voice. “Why are you helping me?”

  He turned away from her and looked out the window above his sink, his profile as hard as the countertop he was white knuckling. "Because I catch bad guys, that's what I do."

  It's not what she'd been asking and they both knew it. "And that's it?"

  She hated how fucking hopeful she sounded, like she'd come back to Catfish Creek and was once again that insecure girl from high school who hid behind her bad girl persona.

  His jaw muscles flexed, but he didn't turn toward her. "There can't be anything else."

  And she was still enough of the girl she'd been to wish like hell there could be. So before she could say anything that would even remotely hint at that, she turned and marched out of the kitchen, her chin high, knowing the bad girl sway of her hips would be reflected in the window so Drew couldn't miss what he was walking away from—again.

  Drew

  Dealing with the FBI was close to the top of Drew's do-not-want list, but there wasn't a way around it. Agents Curtis and Ritter were in his office wearing matching dark suits and blank expressions. That didn't bode well for what was about to happen next considering he and Leah had just finished tag teaming the explanation of their plan.

  After a solid ten seconds of silence, Leah looked at him and shrugged before turning back to the agents. "And that's the plan, so speak now or forever hold your peace."

  "No," Ritter said.

  Yep. That was about the reaction Drew had been expecting. For the Feds, there was no good idea unless it was their idea.

  "Excuse me?" Leah asked, fire sparking in her eyes.

  That was his girl, always fixin' for a fight.

  Curtis seemed unimpressed. "We don't know where you got this information from."

  "A confidential source," Drew answered, the less details the Feds knew, the better.

  "Someone here in Catfish Creek knows the inner workings of one of the world's most wanted jewel theft rings?" Curtis didn't bother to keep his skepticism below the surface.

  Drew put a hand on Leah's thigh before she could say whatever scathing thought was formulating in her head and gave her a soft squeeze to warn her not to push too far. "We never said he or she was local."

  "I don't like it," Ritter said.

  Leah rolled her eyes. "You don't have to, you just have to stay out of the way."

  So much for sending her subtle signals.

  "That's not how the federal government operates," Curtis deadpanned.

  "And don't I know it," Leah said with a sigh.

  Both agents narrowed their eyes. Knowing just how effectively Leah could burrow under a man's skin and make him nuts, Drew squeezed her leg again—harder this time.

  "You're not helping," he said half under his breath.

  Leah shot him a glare. "I'm not trying."

  Of course not. That's not how Leah worked, she was all bad girl attitude, devious brain and sass. He loved that about her. Nothing about her was easy. A man had to work to make it past her defense—and he was determined to do that.

  "Here's the deal," he said, turning to face the agents, giving them the look he usually reserved for subordinates who were slow to understand the way things were going to work from now on. “We—really, she—found out more in twenty-four hours than the however long it's been that you've been working this case. We're doing this. You're either coming along for the ride and the collar or you're sitting on the sidelines when I bring Law tied up with a bow to your boss."

  It wasn't just the career boosting that came along with credit for a collar that cops—no matter their affiliation—wanted to take the bad guys off the street. It was in their cop DNA. That didn't make letting someone else take the credit any easier because egos were alive and well in anyone who had the power to throw someone in jail, but unless he'd pegged the agents wrong, they'd take the deal.

  "Fine," Ritter said, his tone gruff. "We go with your plan but if the whole thing blows up in your face we won't be held responsible."

  Drew managed to keep his self-satisfied smile under wraps. "Understood."

  Two hours and one massive mission-planning session later and Drew and Leah walked into The Grange, the most likely spot to find Wynn and Miller, according to Lexie's briefing report that detailed the men's habits. Really, the woman was something else, weird cat obsession aside, because there were Wynn and Miller, sitting at a table in the back. Judging by the harried, I'm-about-to-stick-a-knife-through-your-eye look on the waitress's face, they'd been there for some time and had not been the most pleasant of customers.

  Following the plan they'd come up with, he intertwined his fingers with Leah's and they walked together across the bar, past the dance floor, and to the men in their matching pale blue Western shirts with pearl buttons so new they still had the folding lines from the store.

  Leah gave the duo a slow up and down before shaking her head. "Some people shouldn't be allowed to dress themselves."

  "You don't have to fight it, darling, I know I look good," Wynn said, his bright red hair slicked back and held in place with a pound of hair gel.

  Stepping in before Leah could tell Miller and Wynn what she really thought of their outfits, Drew cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention to him. "We want a meet with your boss."

  Miller slunk back down in his seat, his gaze twitching left before jerking back to Drew.

  "What boss?" he asked.

  "The one who keeps you in tacky shirts and cheap belt buckles," Leah said.

  "Girlie," Wynn sprung from his seat with more grace than a bulky guy his size usually had and loomed over Leah, "you need someone to teach you better manners."

  Drew didn't think. He just reacted, grabbing the man by the shirt and shoving him back against the wall. Half a heartbeat later his forearm was pressed up against the guy's throat hard enough to make Wynn's eyes a little watery. Using his peripheral vision to keep watch on Miller, who was glued to his seat with his palms up in surrender, Drew leaned in and got right in Wynn's face.

  "Let's not lose focus, asswipe, because you're too dumb to realize that that lady is the only person keeping your head attached to your neck. Your boss.
A meeting. Set it up. Now."

  He tossed the sputtering Wynn back into his seat.

  "Fine, dang, man," the redhead said as he took out his phone and started texting. "There's no need to go all Training Day on me."

  He and Leah stood, hip to hip, while they all waited for a return text from Law. There was no way he was giving up the high ground advantage to these two dipshits. They might not have a record for violence and so far they didn't seem to have any skill that didn't involve grunting in the gym, but that didn't mean he was going to let down his guard. Not with Leah here. So the four of them just stayed there, giving each other stink eye, until Wynn's phone finally buzzed with a response.

  Wynn picked it up and read the message with more speed than Drew would have given him credit for.

  "He wants to know why," Wynn said.

  "Tell Law that we'll only hand over the diamond to him," Drew said, sticking to the plan and playing the heavy. "We don't trust you two to carry out your end of things."

  Miller made a soft squeak of protest. "That's just shitty."

  "Tell him," Leah said as she jabbed a finger into the back of Wynn's shoulder blade.

  The redhead shot Leah a dirty look but put his oversized thumbs to work. Again, they waited. This time the answer came back almost immediately.

  "Noon tomorrow," Wynn said. "The closed up gas station at the corner of First and McMurray. Just you two."

  "Great," Drew said, taking a step back from the table, making sure Leah did the same. He didn't want her within arm's reach of these two if they decided to change their M.O.s. "You can go."

  "We were sitting here having a beer," Miller muttered.

  "You were annoying your waitress," Drew said, jerking his chin toward the waitress who was watching the goings on from the safety of the bar. "Get moving before I find an excuse to knock your heads together."

  Wynn and Miller grumbled like old men kicked out of the Bingo parlor for spitting tobacco on the floor. Drew didn't relax until they cleared the door. Curtis and Ritter would take over surveillance of Law's muscle after that, in hopes they went straight to him. If it worked out that way, great. If it didn't, they were ready for what came next. Now there was nothing to do but wait. And stare at Leah. And think all sorts of porn-worthy ideas for them to bide the time until the meet.

  His cock twitched and started to thicken against his thigh at the mental image. Fuck. This is exactly what he'd told himself he wasn't going to do. Still, his hand was in the air as he signaled to the waitress for two beers. A minute later two ice-cold bottles of Bud were on the table.

  "You off the clock?" Leah asked as she lifted the bottle to her red lips and took a long swallow.

  "We're celebrating." Yeah, that almost sounded reasonable.

  "You didn't answer. I know you're not in uniform because of the Rhinestone Cowboys, but you haven't been since I rolled into town."

  He glanced down at his daily staple of white T-shirt and jeans. "For all intents and purposes I'm off the clock as sheriff permanently."

  "You quit?"

  "I was acting sheriff after Sheriff Finnigan had a heart attack, but I lost the election to take it on full time."

  It had been the best and worst day of his life all rolled into one. The truth was he needed to get out of Catfish Creek. His mom had enough sobriety under her belt to not need him watching over her. Scratch that. What she really needed was to have the confidence to watch out for herself and kick his cheating ass father to the curb.

  Leah's already big eyes went buggy. "Who wouldn't vote for you?"

  He laughed and took a sip of cold beer. "All the folks pissed that I wouldn't let little Jimmy and perfect Paula get away with underage drinking, routine violations and other bullshit."

  "Didn't they realize they were appointing Mr. Law and Order?"

  The way she said it made it seem like he should be wearing a cape and a mask. The image made him crack a smile despite the shitty reality of the situation. "I guess they thought those rules only applied to some folks."

  "Wow," she said with a chuckle. "You must have made them nuts."

  Now that was the understatement of the year. "Yep."

  "So what now?"

  He glanced around the bar, taking in the handful of customers eating chicken tenders and downing a quick beer after a long day at work. Nothing out of the ordinary—and maybe that was part of the problem for him. The job with the Fort Worth Police Department seemed ideal, but was that just him falling into another familiar cycle? For a man who never thought much about the big picture of his life, he couldn't help but realize over the last few days that he was in one helluva rut. One that he probably wouldn't have realized if not for the tornado of trouble that was the woman sitting across from him.

  And he couldn't have her. Not for real. And that was beginning to be a spiky bur under his saddle so he did what any good kid who'd grown up with a functioning alcoholic parent would do. He deflected. "We enjoy the win while we can."

  Leah took a sip of her beer. "Doesn't sound like you've had a lot of those."

  "Not as many as I thought I'd have when I graduated high school." Shit. When he'd graduated a few years before Leah and his sister, he had thought the world would be his within five years. He'd been wrong, so very wrong. "The truth is, life doesn't always turn out the way we expect it and it sure doesn't give you any do-overs."

  She smacked her bottle on the table, sending foam over the lip and nailed him to his seat with a challenging look. "So you force it to."

  "Wow." He laughed. "You almost sound like a woman who doesn't have a Texas-sized chip on her shoulder."

  "I don't," she said a little too fast for either of them to be fooled.

  "Really?" He took a drink of beer, watching her over the rim. "Then why'd you come back to the reunion? The truth."

  He didn't expect her to answer, but once again she did the last thing he'd figured. She straightened her shoulders and gave him what sounded an awful lot like the truth.

  "To show them I wasn't the woman they all thought. That there was more to me than just trouble."

  How many high school expectations were they both still running from all these years later? He was the responsible one who'd never take a chance, the one voted most likely to uphold law and order. Leah? She was the bad girl with a devious, quick brain she'd probably never use for good. It was past time both of them got over that. You could go home again, but there was no reason why they had to be those people they had been just because they were once again where it all had started.

  Fuck this. He was breaking out of his rut.

  "Come on." He stood up and jerked his chin toward the empty pool room. "Why don't you try to kick my ass in pool?"

  "Try?" She stood up, all sexy confidence and determination.

  He smirked. "I'm feeling lucky."

  She rolled her eyes and turned, leading the way to the pool room. His gaze went to her perfect, swaying ass like a magnet. Damn. It almost hurt to look at her. It definitely was awkward to walk after looking at her. Looked like he was going to have to get off the hamster wheel of his life and do something about that and, maybe, see what other possibilities awaited.

  Leah

  Leah didn't need to bend at the waist and lean quite so far across the pool table to make the shot. She did anyway. Getting a good look at the solid red ball as it dropped into the corner pocket wasn't why. It was because she could feel Drew's hot gaze on her as sure as a branding iron. They made a good team and it was nice to see that wasn't only the case in the bedroom—although that's where every single one of her thoughts was ending up.

  "So you came back home and Jess stayed out in Hollywood?" she asked, following up on their getting-caught-up conversation.

  "There was more to it than that, but yeah." For once his gaze was on the pool table and not her ass or her boobs as she leaned over the green felt.

  Someone was keeping things to himself. Was Drew Jackson keeping a deep dark secret or was it something as
simple and devastating as remorse?

  "Do you ever regret it?" she asked, almost completely meaning his decision to come back to Catfish Creek but she'd be lying to herself if she said that was all of it.

  He took a slow sip of the single beer he'd been nursing, his focus still on the pool table. "Yeah, but I can't change the past." He refocused his attention on her, sending a delicious shiver down her spine. "What about you? Ever regret moving up to Denver?"

  She gave half a second to the idea of living anywhere else but Denver before sending up a quick thank you that she didn't have to worry about ever moving back to Texas. "Nah. I love it up there. It gets crazy cold, sure, but the people are great. I love being near the mountains after the total flatness of Catfish Creek."

  He made his shot, sending the cue ball flying across the table into the trio of striped balls. "So what, it's just you and Gray?"

  "Believe it or not, I can make friends, but yeah, we hang out." She came around to his side of the table, nudging him out of her way with her hip, relishing the spark of attraction that led straight to her clit.

  "Anything serious?" he asked, a rough edge to the question.

  Pulling back from taking her shot, she turned to face him. With one hand on her hip and the other wrapped around the pool stick, she gave him a slow up and down while awareness crackled between them. "Why, Drew Jackson, are you asking me if I'm fucking my best friend?"

  "Yeah." He nodded, lust turning his eyes dark. "I am."

  Straight and to the point. She'd always appreciated that about him—among other things.

  "No." She shook her head, her lungs suddenly unable to take a decent breath. Maybe it was because her bra had mysteriously become too small. Or because you're flirting with fire, Leah girl. "It's never been like that for us."

  Someone must have put money in the jukebox stationed between the dance floor and the pool tables, because an old school country song came on. It wasn't one of the slow ones or one where someone had been done wrong by everyone but their dog. It was a sing-along drinking song, the kind that included a repeated chorus and sly lyrics that had always made her giggle. This time wasn't any different. Without thinking about it, she laid down her cue on the pool table and started dancing as she sang along.