Army Ranger Redemption

by Carol Ericson

  She didn’t have the time or energy to sort out a brooding war vet with trouble in his eyes and sin on his lips.

  * * *

  “IS THIS FOR your granny, Scarlett, or have you taken up knitting, too?”

  Scarlett dropped the two skeins of yarn on the counter. “Me? Knit? You’ve gotta be kidding.”

  Barbara, the owner of A Stitch in Time, rang up the yarn on her register. “You’re so artistic, you could probably do it.”

  “Totally different kind of art, Barbara.”

  “I like those pretty landscapes you do.” Barbara pursed her lips and stuffed the yarn into a bag.

  Scarlett covered her smile with her hand. Barbara didn’t have to like her modern art—enough people did.

  “Thanks, Barbara.”

  “You know,” Barbara said, and shook her finger at Scarlett, “you should do some local crafts, like Vanessa Love does with those Libby Love frogs. Maybe something...Native American.”

  “You mean like dream catchers and tom-toms?” Scarlett raised her brows. “Ah, no. I don’t do that kind of stuff.”

  Reaching for her wallet, Scarlett glanced out the window just in time to see her cousin duck into Sutter’s Restaurant. “How much do I owe you, Barbara? I just saw Jason go into Sutter’s and I’m going to try to catch him.”

  “That’ll be ten dollars and fifty cents. Your cousin is always at Sutter’s.” She cleared her throat. “Not that I’m spying out my window, mind you.”

  “He’s dating a waitress there.” Scarlett put a ten on the counter and dug in her purse for two quarters. “Thanks, Barbara. You’re a lifesaver for finding that purple shade for me.”

  “Anything for your granny, Scarlett.”

  Scarlett tucked the bag beneath her arm and charged across the street to Sutter’s. Jason had been shirking his duty in checking up on Granny when Scarlett had been out of town and she planned to read him the riot act. He couldn’t dump all the responsibility on his sister, Annie.

  The lunch crowd from Evergreen Software was thinning out, and Scarlett zeroed in on Jason lounging at the bar adjacent to the dining area. She waved off the hostess. “I’m going to the bar.”

  She swung around to the side of the restaurant and snuck up behind Jason, tapping him on the shoulder. She grinned as he almost fell off the bar stool.

  “Wow, cuz, are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

  She shook the yarn bag in his face. “It’s gonna be worse than that if you don’t start checking up on Granny more regularly.”

  “She doesn’t want to see me. She’d rather see you and Annie.”

  “That’s ridiculous and it doesn’t matter. She’s getting up there in age, and you need to check on her. You can’t leave that up all up to Annie. She’s busy with her new cleaning business.”

  He shrugged, whipping his long hair back from his face. “Heard you found a dead body outside your place last night.”

  “That’s a neat way to change the subject.” She perched on the stool next to him. “Yeah, some older guy—long, reddish-gray hair. I’d never seen him before.”

  “And I thought your problems were over when that FBI agent killed Jordan Young.”

  “Problems? The county sheriff’s department thinks someone dumped him on the road near my place and he made his way into the woods.” She folded her arms on the bar. “It’s not my problem.”

  Chloe, Jason’s girlfriend, approached them, tucking a notepad into her apron. “Did they find out who the dead guy is yet?”

  Scarlett rolled her eyes. “Does everyone know?”

  “Of course.” Chloe snapped her gum. “It’s Timberline.”

  Jason pinched Chloe’s hip. “I gotta go. Just popped in to say hi and, yes, I’ll check up on Granny more, Scarlett.”

  “I’ll see you after work.” Chloe’s eyes widened as she stared past Jason’s shoulder. “Who is that?”

  Scarlett jerked her head around just in time to meet Jim’s gaze across the dining room.

  Jason growled. “He’s that racist SOB biker.”

  Scarlett jabbed her cousin with her elbow. “Jim’s not like that. You’re talking about his father. What did happen to Slick Kennedy, anyway?”

  “Someone killed him in Seattle a few years back...and nobody around here gave a damn.” He kicked Scarlett’s foot. “Shh. He’s coming this way.”

  “Why’s he coming over here?” A slow blush spread across Chloe’s cheeks, and Jason gave his girlfriend a sharp look.

  “H-he was with me last night when I found the body.”

  Jason transferred his look from Chloe to her.

  “I guess he has his dad’s place now. It’s down the road from mine.”

  As Jason opened his mouth, Scarlett nudged the leg of his stool to shut him up.

  “Are you okay? Did you get any sleep?” Jim studied her through dark-smudged eyes while running a hand through his messy hair.

  “Looks like I got more than you.” She wanted to ask him if he’d injured himself falling off her porch, but he wouldn’t appreciate her concern—especially not in front of Jason and Chloe.

  “I have a hard time sleeping in that place, dead body or no dead body.”

  She tipped her head toward Jason. “This is my cousin, Jason Foster, and his girlfriend Chloe Rayman.”

  Jim took Chloe’s hand and the girl looked ready to faint. Then he shook Jason’s hand, despite the once-over her cousin was giving him. “You know anyone interested in some old Harleys?”

  Jason’s eyes lit up. “You selling?”

  “I have a few bikes I’m looking to get rid of. Stop by any time if you want to have a look. I’ll give you a deal.”

  “I’ll do that, man. Thanks.” Jason kissed Chloe on the side of the head. “Now I really have to get back to work.”

  They said goodbye and Chloe scooted back to her abandoned tables with a flick of her hand.

  “Do you mind?” Jim pushed out the stool next to her with his foot.

  “Go ahead.” She grabbed a menu from behind the bar as if she’d planned to eat lunch here all along. “Was the rest of your night uneventful?”

  His dark gaze drifted away from her face for a few seconds, and then he cleared his throat. “Yeah. You? Were the deputies there all night?”

  “I think so. They were there when I went to bed, and a few were there this morning.”

  “Any news?” He pointed to her menu. “You done with that?”

  She slid it across to him. “Autopsy this morning, but I haven’t heard anything.”

  The bartender dropped another menu in front of Scarlett. “Are you two ordering lunch?”

  “I am. Give me a minute.” Jim ran his finger down the menu and looked at her over the top. “Burgers any good here?”

  “You’re asking the wrong person. I’m a vegetarian.”

  He peered down the bar. “They seem popular.”

  When the bartender returned, Jim ordered a burger and fries, and she stuck to the vegetarian chili, her go-to meal at Sutter’s.

  “Anything to drink?”

  They both ordered water.

  When the bartender placed their glasses in front of them, Scarlett followed a bead of moisture running down the outside of her glass with her fingertip. “I wanted to ask you if you were okay after...after your fall last night.”

  His jaw hardened and a muscle ticked in the corner of his mouth. “The darkness, the excitement, threw me off balance. I usually don’t trip over my own feet, believe it or not. Spent enough time in physical therapy to avoid that.”

  “What happened to your leg?” Taking a sip of water, she avoided his gaze. Would he lash out? Refuse to answer her?

  “It broke in a few places and never healed properly.”

&nbs
p; Okay, so he’d just be vague about it.

  “Ouch. Sounds painful. I suppose it happened when you were...over there.”

  “Uh-huh.” He gestured to the bartender. “Can you bring me some ketchup when you get a chance, please?”

  She didn’t need a brick wall to fall on her to get the hint. Personal stuff—off-limits. “I sure hope the sheriff’s department can find out who this guy is and what happened to him—and if he had some kind of beef with his killer.”

  “I’m sure they’ll be able to ID him soon, and most likely it wasn’t a random hit. You still need to upgrade the security on your place. Even if you believe you’re safe in Timberline, you might want to do a better job protecting your...art.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Did I detect a little sarcasm in your tone?”

  “What? Not at all.” He rolled his water glass between his hands. “I like it.”

  “The landscape art.”

  “That, too, but the other stuff...” He shook his head. “Crazy intense.”

  A warm glow settled in her belly. Usually she didn’t care what people thought about her art. She created her work from a personal, imaginative space inside her brain, and if she didn’t give expression to those thoughts, her head would explode. It had just been a side bonus that other people, including the art critics, had appreciated her abstract art and paid top dollar for it.

  The fact that a man like Jim liked it, got it, made her feel like he got her, that he saw her.

  She wanted to get him, too. She felt like she could if he’d let her.

  “Veggie chili and Sutter’s burger.” The bartender dipped beneath the bar and gave them each a silverware setting wrapped in a cloth napkin.

  Jim proceeded to drench everything in ketchup.

  She pointed a spoon at his fries. “Have some fries with your ketchup.”

  One corner of his mouth lifted, which was about the closest thing she’d seen to a smile from him.

  “One of my many quirks.” He bit off the end of a French fry and asked, “Where do you live when you’re not spilling your guts on a canvas in Timberline?”

  “San Francisco. I have a small place in the city that I share with another artist. When he’s gone, I’m usually there and when I’m here, he’s in the city.”

  “Boyfriend?” He took a big bite of his burger.

  “What? The artist?” She slipped a spoonful of chili in her mouth to hide her smile, happy that he’d been concerned enough to ask. “Marco is not my boyfriend.”

  “I was gonna say, tough to have a relationship with someone you hardly see.”

  “Tough to have a relationship with another artist. Marco and I had a thing once, but it was exhausting—and not in a good way.” She winked at him.

  He raised one eyebrow and took another bite of his burger.

  She zigzagged her spoon through the hot surface of her chili and watched the steam curl up. How had he gotten her to open up while he remained aloof and closemouthed?

  “And you? Are you going to settle in Timberline or do you have a home somewhere else?”

  “I don’t have a home, and I sure as hell don’t plan to stay in Timberline.”

  “Are you here to sell your father’s place? I’m sure you know, ever since Evergreen Software moved in, housing prices have shot up.”

  “I’ll probably sell it. Nothing but bad memories attached to the place.”

  He offered nothing more. Where had he been since being discharged from the army? What was he doing in Timberline? And why did he have the same tattoo as a murder victim?

  Jim dragged a napkin across his mouth and tapped her arm. “Incoming.”

  She jerked her head to the side. “It’s Sheriff Musgrove. I guess he’s feeling better.”

  “Is he new?”

  “He’s new and lazy. More interested in fund-raising, but he’s been keeping a low profile lately, since he was good friends with Jordan Young.”

  “Well, he’s making a beeline for us, so maybe he has some news from homicide.”

  As the sheriff made a few stops on his way, Scarlett leaned close to Jim and whispered, “Does it look like everyone is reassured at what he’s telling them? Because I’m pretty sure they’re asking him about the murder.”

  “Nobody’s screaming and fainting.”

  Musgrove finally made it to them and positioned himself between their two bar stools. “Trouble just seems to follow you around, doesn’t it, Ms. Easton?”

  “Me and you both.” Scarlett pushed away her bowl. “This is Jim Kennedy. He was with me last night when I stumbled across the body.”

  The two men shook hands and Jim asked, “News about the murder?”

  “Yeah, which is why I came over here when one of the deputies said he saw Ms. Easton at the bar. The fact that you’re here, too, is convenient, since I don’t have to go out to your place.”

  “What’s the news?”

  Musgrove smiled and waved at the bartender. “We identified the victim.”

  Scarlett slid a glance at Jim. “Who is he?”

  “Name’s Jeff Kelly, goes by the name of Rusty. He’s fifty-one years old and a member of the Lords of Chaos motorcycle gang.”

  “Club.”

  “Excuse me?” Musgrove cocked his head, his eyebrows colliding over his nose.

  “They prefer to be called a club—the Lords of Chaos Motorcycle Club.”

  “And how exactly do you know that, Kennedy?”

  “Because I was a member—and I knew Rusty.”

  Chapter Five

  Scarlett grabbed the edge of the bar—LC. So, those letters stood for Lords of Chaos. She vaguely remembered a bunch of motorcycle-riding tough guys hanging around town, usually with Jim’s father and brother. She never realized they were an actual motorcycle gang and that Jim had belonged to it. That explained the tattoo. Explained a lot of other things.

  At least he’d owned up to it, but why’d he wait? Why didn’t he mention the tattoo earlier, even if he didn’t recognize Rusty?

  Musgrove must’ve had the same thought since he fished in his front pocket and asked, “You didn’t recognize him last night?”

  Jim shrugged. “It was dark. It’s been over ten years since I last saw him.”

  “Have you seen any other members of the...club since you’ve been back in Timberline?”

  “Look, Musgrove. If you want to question me further, can we do it more formally at the station?” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “We’re attracting attention.”

  “Technically, it’s not even our case anymore, but I’ll give your name to Deputy Collins. He’s heading up the investigation for the county’s homicide division.”

  “You do that.” Jim grabbed a cocktail napkin and a pen and wrote out his phone number. “Have him give me a call. I can’t tell him much. I didn’t even realize Rusty was still here. As far as I know, the club doesn’t operate in this area anymore.”

  Musgrove hunched forward. “Is it true the Lords of Chaos were involved in the drug trade here in Timberline?”

  “Didn’t know much about their business, didn’t want to know. I was a teenager and got out when I could.”

  Musgrove tugged on his earlobe. “Didn’t Gary Binder hang out with the club?”

  “Gary?” Jim pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. “Nah, kind of a hanger-on. I heard he died in a hit-and-run accident recently.”

  “We’ve never found the driver.” Musgrove shrugged. “Me? I figured it for an accident, but did you have any contact with Binder since returning?”

  Jim spread his hands. “Dead before I arrived.”

  “All right then, Kennedy.” Musgrove stuffed the napkin with Jim’s number into his pocket. “I think Deputy Unger already gave your number to Coll
ins. He’ll probably want to talk to you at some point once I tell him you knew Kelly.”

  “I’m not going anywhere for a while.”

  Musgrove saluted and walked back through the dining room, glad-handing when he could. When he walked out the front door, Scarlett turned to Jim. “That’s why you have the tattoo.”

  Jim choked on his water. “How do you know about that?”

  “When you...fell last night, your shirt hiked up in the back. I saw it then, and I had seen the same tattoo, or at least the same letters, on the neck of the dead man.”

  “Thought about getting it removed a few times, but it reminds me where I came from and what I have to battle.”

  She swirled the ice in her water glass. “Is that why you joined the army? To get away from your family?”

  “One reason.”

  “So why’d you come back here?”

  “Settle my dad’s stuff.”

  “Liar. We found a dead body together. You can tell me the truth.”

  He rubbed his knuckles against his sexy stubble. “I came across a news story online about those kidnappings a few months ago. It brought back some...memories.”

  Not very good memories from the look in his dark, haunted eyes.

  “Sounds like you’d rather forget those memories. Why torture yourself by coming back?”

  His lips twisted and he smacked the bar as he emitted a noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

  “What’s funny about that?”

  “I wouldn’t call being in Timberline and remembering fond times with my old man and my older brother torture—miserable, but not torture.”

  “Figure of speech, I guess.” She waved at the bartender for the check. “Timberline still has a lot of secrets.”

  “That’s because the mystery of the Timberline Trio was never solved.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the dining room. “It doesn’t affect the newcomers with their shiny tech jobs and their shiny cars in their shiny homes. But for those of us who were kids here at the time, I think it left its imprint.”

  “I think you’re right.”

  The bartender dropped two separate checks for them. Jim reached for her check at the same time she did.