by D. D. Ayres
“Lauray Battise.” Law engulfed her hand in his much larger one. She practically purred.
“And what do you do, Lauray Battise?”
“State trooper, ma’am.”
Jori saw Erin wince at his use of ma’am but she recovered quickly. She turned to Jori. “I didn’t know you still required an official escort to functions these days.”
“She doesn’t.” Law waited until Erin glanced back at him. “I’m screwing her three ways from Sunday. And, yes, she’s that good in bed. So I’d do just about anything for more. Including coming here.”
Erin’s mouth fell open. So did Jori’s.
“Well, hello.” Luke Tice had appeared out of the crowd and put an arm around the waist of his wife. With his commonplace handsomeness and a politician’s assuredness that he would be a welcome addition, he offered Law a big grin. “Hey there.”
Erin, who had been staring at Law like he was a cross between Chris Hemsworth and Darth Vader, cleared her throat as she glanced her husband’s way. “Luke, I’d like you to meet—”
“No introductions necessary, Erin.” Luke grinned like a big kid. “I know who this is. Trooper Battise, right? Saw your picture in the Democrat-Gazette the other day.” He offered his hand. “You have my heartfelt gratitude for your service and sacrifice to our country.”
A floating photographer began taking pictures as the two men shook hands. It was the cue for Luke to continue. “This man’s a bona fide hero, Erin, a decorated veteran. Lost a leg in Afghanistan. But that hasn’t stopped him, no sir. This past Thursday, Erin, he stopped a robbery in progress in Springdale and then outran the fleeing robber. On one good leg. The video of it is amazing.” Luke reached up to pat Law’s shoulder. “This is a real American hero.” He spoke loud enough that all nearby could hear. “What brings you to Eureka Springs, Trooper Battise? In need of a little R and R?”
“I’m here with Jori Garrison.”
Law reached out to snag Jori by the waist, just as Luke had done his wife. “She’s asked me to look into the events surrounding her incarceration.” He felt Jori stiffen beside him but ignored it. “I might have a few questions for you at some later date, Mr. Tice. We are, after all, celebrating tonight.”
Luke’s eyes narrowed on Jori for a microsecond before slipping back into political mode. “Right.” His gaze shifted to Jori and away then back, as if he couldn’t decide if by looking too long he might imply something unwholesome. “Glad to see you looking so well, Jori.” He held out his hand.
Jori forced herself to smile but she wasn’t about to shake hands in a staged photo op with the man who’d helped put her in prison. “Hello, Luke.”
Luke glanced at the photographer and smiled. “I understand. I’m probably not your favorite person. But in all fairness, I was junior counsel and only doing my job. You’ve paid your dues and I’m hearing great things about how you’ve turned your life around. See, I do keep up. I always thought you were a decent person who took a momentary wrong turn. You’re now working as a trainer for Warriors Wolf Pack. Am I right?”
“Yes.” Jori let the word hang as Law’s hand moved from her waist up to her shoulder. The implication: Take it easy. But she was out of the cage of wanting to simply be left alone. Now she wanted, no, needed answers. And she wasn’t going to play nice to get them. But Luke was still talking.
“So then you’ll be happy to hear that I’ve been talking to my dad about Tice Industries making a sizable contribution to so worthy a cause. Training dogs to look after our wounded vets. Can’t think of a more noble aspiration. Glad to know you’re part of it. We here in northwest Arkansas take care of our own.”
Jori felt as if she were going to choke. He was using her to make political points with the reporter who had joined the photographer.
“I’d like to talk with you, Luke.” Law moved one aggressive inch toward the politician. “I can call you Luke?”
“Absolutely. Call my office and we’ll get you set up. Always a pleasure to talk with a veteran.”
“Privately would suit me better. You, too, probably.”
Luke stared for a second then glanced around, seeking an out. “Ah, that’ll be my aide looking for me. You’ll have to excuse me. Jori, Trooper Battise, a pleasure.” Not waiting to see what Erin might do, Luke pulled her along with him.
The minute they were abandoned by the photographer and reporter, who trailed after the candidate, Jori turned on Law. Her voice was low but full of heat. “Oh my God. I can’t believe you said that about me to Erin. My reputation is ruined.”
He glanced down at her, his cop face in place. But there was a glint of gold in that implacable stare. “What reputation?”
As always, his raw brand of honesty carried a punch. This time it punched a breath of laughter out of her. He was right. At this point, what else did she have to lose? As long as her parents never heard about his remark. “What happened to cool and professional?”
“Shock and awe.” Law steered her toward a more private corner of the room. “It’s a cop tactic, too. I wanted to rattle her. I also made her jealous as hell.”
Jori crossed her arms to keep him from taking her hand. “What makes you think that?”
Law’s mouth stretched just short of the smile as he reached out to entangle his fingers in the lacing at her waist. “I might not know much about social graces. But I know when a woman’s coming on to me.”
Jori’s eyes widened. But then, how could she be surprised? Erin always wanted to be the center of all men’s attention. It seemed as if marriage hadn’t changed that.
Law lightly pinched her elbow and nodded in another direction. “Friend of yours?”
Jori turned to the group of people her age casting glances in their direction. One of them, a redhead, waved. Jori looked away. Her nerve had completely deserted her. She just hoped Law wouldn’t notice how rattled she was.
“Chelsea Bennett. We were once friends.”
“Then let’s go over there and let her be your friend now. You need one.”
He had noticed.
Half an hour later, as the guests drank and waited for the bride and groom to appear at their reception, Jori had had enough. Even though her friends were being nice, the strain of them not asking where she’d been or what she’d been doing made everyone’s smile brittle and the conversation as stilted as if English were not the first language for any of them.
Law was just plain furious. He wanted to wad the group into a ball and drop-kick them into Beaver Lake. He couldn’t for the life of him understand why Jori had cared so much what any of them thought about her. None of them had half her character or courage. But then, he supposed, it must be about her parents. She cared for their sake. So he’d remain on his best behavior as long as Erin Tice stayed away from him.
Finally the bride and groom appeared.
Jori and Law took seats at her parents’ table to eat and listen to speeches, some heartfelt, others hopelessly inept, and then watched the cutting of the cake. Jori was pleased to hear her father’s calm voice chatting with Law from time to time. She didn’t know what her father said but Law seemed to relax and respond with more than his famous one-word answers. Maybe he was enjoying himself. Or maybe he was just doing it for her. Either way, she was grateful.
Her mother, on the other hand, seemed to be trying to cram six months’ worth of gossip and family news into their first chat. Jori couldn’t help being a little overwhelmed by the sheer energy of her mother’s enthusiasm. But it also felt better to be face-to-face with her than avoiding her. She’d been wrong to do that. Even if, she realized, she was going to have to limit her exposure to all that joy. A lunch here, a dinner there, sprinkled out over weeks. Little measurable dips into the family pool until she was comfortable with full immersion.
She loved her parents dearly. But they were seeing her as the daughter she had been four years ago, just finishing college, not yet on her own. She could hear it in the way they talked to her. For them she was
still a woman-child who wasn’t quite ready to launch. But she wasn’t that person anymore. She was different. Not bad different, just different enough that their experiences of the world no longer matched. She was going to have to give them time and exposure to learn the new her. And accept it.
A couple of times she caught her brother’s eye from where he sat with his bride at their private table. Each time he winked then rolled his eyes. He understood.
* * *
Law had waited for his moment to talk with Erin Tice. It came at the end of the evening. Jori had wandered away to find the ladies’ room. So he was, for the moment, on his own. His stump throbbed. He’d been standing too long on a prosthesis that didn’t fit as well as it once had. When he moved, his limp was more pronounced. He was going to ache all night. Or not. Maybe he’d bury all his troubles in the sweet warmth of Jori and his pain would no longer rule his dreams. Something to look forward to. That was a novelty, and a welcome one.
The bride and groom had departed and the lights in the ballroom had been turned down and tables pushed back in order for the younger guests to finish getting their dance party on. Things were about to get drunker and looser, and certainly more interesting.
But he couldn’t very well just approach Luke Tice’s wife, even if they had been introduced. He’d have to bring her to him. He knew just how to do that.
As she danced with a stranger, he gave her a hot hard glance, eyes stopping at her breasts and then hip level before sliding away. She bristled, but she glanced back after a few steps. Law looked away, no trace of his real thoughts on his face. Enough eye contact, and she’d find a way to wander over to him. Eventually.
Eventually lasted only five minutes.
Erin came dancing up to him at the end of a song, a bottle of champagne in hand and eyes wide with me-likey avarice. “You’ve been watching me, Mr. Battise.”
Law met her flirtatious smile with a bland expression. “Have I?”
Her smile turned up at the corners. “I might be married but I’m still a woman. I notice these things.”
“If you say so.”
“Dance with me.” She grabbed his wrist and pulled. He didn’t move. Not even an inch. “Oh, come on. Don’t be shy.”
“I don’t dance.” Law patted his left leg. Sam sat up.
“Oh, right.” When Erin looked up from his leg, he noticed her pupils were unusually wide even for the lighting, engulfing the blue of her eyes. “How about we find a quiet place to chat?”
“Can’t do that.”
She frowned. “Does Jori keep you on a tight leash?”
He smiled just a bit. “No one will ever do that.”
Erin’s smile returned. “So you were just throwing her off the scent before?”
“How’s that?”
“By saying she’s the best lay you ever had.” She turned her head to cast a glance around the room before looking back at him and sliding a hand up his arm. “I think you were really issuing me a challenge.”
“Honey, if that’s your idea of flirtation, you need to meet a better class of men.” He casually brushed her hand from his arm.
She smiled slowly, her gaze drifting below his waist as she replaced her hand on his arm and squeezed. “I do like a challenge.”
Law looked down at her hand where a four-carat diamond sparkled and then back at her. Her lipstick was smeared and her mascara had gone cakey from the heat of dancing. She was not yet thirty but there was a hard edge already to the curve of her smile. Something was riding her, but it wasn’t going to be him.
“Is this the game you played with Brody Rogers? Or were you more than fuck buddies?” He leaned in so that he couldn’t be overheard. “Rogers was high the night he died, Mrs. Tice. He’d just come from your place. Did you two do a few rails to celebrate his broken engagement?”
She snatched her hand back. “Who are you?”
“Just an officer of the law. If you’ll excuse me.”
Law walked away before she could rally. He held himself militarily erect, trying to suppress his limp as he crossed the ballroom. His leg was hurting like a sumbitch. So were his hip and half a dozen other bruised places. He began swearing under his breath, viciously and methodically, as he left the room.
He needed fresh air. Quiet. A place away from people until his temper cooled. Then he’d find Jori and they’d get the hell outta Dodge.
He’d lobbed a few live grenades tonight. He would just have to wait, and be ready, for what sprang up in retaliation.
He had reached the first of the wide front steps outside the hotel when he heard the sirens. Before he could steel himself, the yelps of the approaching ambulance quickly gained intensity as strobe lights appeared out of the night, eclipsing even the Christmas decorations in their blood-red flashes.
The siren’s wail merged into screams of incoming rocket fire. The chill of the December night ruptured. The scene exploded into the blinding brilliance of a desert sun.
His body jerked as the echo of a ghostly rifle shot crackled around him.
He pedaled back until his back touched cold stone, halting his retreat. One hand scrambled desperately for the M4 carbine that was always strapped across his torso when on duty.
The sickening punch of an explosion rocked him back on his heels. His heart began to race. The explosions of firepower erupting around him had one purpose. To kill.
He willed his knees not to buckle as he fought for control of the pain and panic engulfing him. Scud was nearby, barking excitedly, frantic for his leadership. He tried to call him back. He mustn’t fail Scud. Not this time.
Something exploded in his chest. It was his heart. He could feel the blood spewing out through his chest wall as the searing heat of a mortar ripped into his gut.
He smelled death.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Erin turned her back for her husband to unzip her. “I think that trooper named Battise should be fired. He insulted me.”
“Can you wait until I’ve won the election before you start handing me your personal vendetta list?”
She danced away from him when he’d dragged the zipper open. She’d had enough champagne and pills to feel bold. “Would it matter if I said he stuck his hand down the front of my dress?”
“Did he?”
“Maybe.”
Luke snorted. “You’re an incorrigible flirt, Erin. Unless you’ve got two witnesses who’ll swear to what you just told me, no. I can’t afford to alienate a decorated veteran who’s just been all over the news as the new local hero.”
Erin shimmied out of her dress and kicked it out of the way. Bending over required too much effort. “He wasn’t very nice to you, either.”
Ignoring the jibe, Luke turned to look out of the windows of the governor’s suite at the Crescent Hotel. It was a spectacular view. Below lay the glittering Christmas lights of the town. Being a Tice, he didn’t need to deal with many of the mundane concerns of life. For instance, the need for the ambulance arriving in the parking lot below. If ill or injured, Tice Industries would send a helicopter to zip him over to a Fayetteville hospital. But how wrong people were to think he didn’t have problems. He had masters he served, just like everyone else.
He turned back from the strobe lights pulsating through the darkness and smiled at his wife’s beauty. For her, anything.
“I smile every day at people I despise because they are useful to me. At the same time I avoid former associates because I’m advised it would send a wrong message to be seen with them. The best way to stop trouble is to avoid it. Dad was right about this Garrison wedding. I should’ve listened.”
She shrugged and subsided into a chair, feeling the buzzkill of reality setting in. The highs weren’t lasting as long as they had even a few weeks ago. “I hate your campaign.”
“You think I get any joy out of it? I’m busting a gut trying to build something here. Do some good. Make some changes. But first I gotta pay my dues. And that can be tricky. That’s why I’m always te
lling you to stay out of the public eye when you’re not prepared. When you do show up, smile and look pretty. And when anyone brings up a political matter, you refer them to me.”
Erin adjusted her demi-cup bra and succeeded in capturing her husband’s eye. “You mean keep my mouth shut.”
He smiled and came toward her. “Pretty much. You’re gorgeous. The love of my life. I’d do most anything for you.”
“You would, wouldn’t you?” She gave him her best smile, thinking she’d chosen the right cousin after all. “So, about Battise?”
He shook his finger at her. “I can’t slay that particular dragon, sweetheart. Sorry.”
She looked away. “He mentioned Brody.”
“What?” Her husband’s tone made her look up. “Why would he have any reason to mention my cousin?”
His eyes scared her, making her back off. “Oh, you know. I guess Jori’s been spinning lies about us.”
“Why would she discuss Brody to Battise?”
Even through the haze of booze and pills, Erin realized she couldn’t very well tell her husband what Battise had implied. That she had been Brody’s customer. It might remind him of other promises she’d made and broken since. “I have no idea. Swapping love stories with a new boyfriend? Who knows what goes through a convict’s mind.”
“Battise did say he wants to meet with me.”
“Don’t do it, Luke. If he’s following up on something Jori said, it can only mean he’d like to make trouble for you. Maybe she wants to make trouble. Now that she’s out of jail, maybe she wants revenge. And she’s screwing a cop to get him to help her.”
Luke frowned. “I wonder. You ever think about Brody?”
“Of course not.” Her high, veering sharply toward itchy-twitchy, made her voice sharp. “Why would I?”
“What if Brody hadn’t died?” He was watching her now, still a little jealous after four years whenever his cousin’s name came up. “He sure had the charm.”
She ran her nails up the nape of her neck, trying to distract herself. “He was engaged to Jori.”
“He said he’d broken it off with Jori that last night.”
