by Brenda Novak
Instinctively, Clay stepped in front of her. He wouldn’t allow Joe to bully a woman in his presence. But, even at barely over five feet tall, Allie didn’t seem to feel she needed his protection. She put a hand on his arm and gently but firmly pushed him out of the way. “I’ll drink with whoever I want,” she stated flatly.
Joe’s jaw tightened as his eyes sought Clay, but Clay could sense that he was weighing his response. Obviously not wanting to get his ass kicked, Joe reined himself in, which came as a bit of a disappointment to Clay. He’d long been eager for the opportunity to rearrange Joe’s weasel-like features.
“What’s your problem?” Clay asked. “Why are you always harassing women? First Cindy, then Grace and now Allie. I’m right here, Joe. If you want a piece of me, let’s take it outside.”
He thought Allie might interfere—maybe assume her role as cop—but she didn’t. She stood where she was and didn’t speak, but he could feel the tension in her as Joe considered his options.
Finally, Joe backed away. “He’s a cold-blooded killer, Allie. Don’t let him fool you.”
“He doesn’t frighten me,” Allie said. “Nor will he or anyone else interfere with the integrity of my investigation.”
Joe risked throwing one more glance at Clay. “If that’s the truth, I wouldn’t go anywhere alone with him. Maybe if you learn too much, you’ll go missing next.”
6
Cursing Joe Vincelli, Allie bent over to take her first shot. Just when Clay seemed to be relaxing, Joe had to come up and cause trouble. Now Clay was wearing a closed, rather grim expression and had fallen silent. Why couldn’t the people in this town trust her to do her job?
Setting the cue ball on the dot, she sent it flying into the triangle of solids and stripes, which scattered across the table. Two solids dropped with a double thunk into opposite corner pockets. The others rolled to a stop. She didn’t do as well on her second shot, but she didn’t leave her opponents with anything they could capitalize on, either.
“Not bad, eh?” she said, teasing Madeline and Kirk.
“I haven’t lost any money yet,” Kirk said and motioned for Madeline to take her turn.
When nothing fell for Madeline, Kirk put his arm around her and, kissing her temple, joked none too quietly that she’d better come up big next time or he was going to dump her.
Clay chuckled as he chalked his cue. “Watch it,” he said. “That’s my sister you’re talking to.”
Secretly admiring his fluid movements, Allie watched Madeline’s stepbrother circle the table. When he paused at the end, as though he’d found an angle he liked, he looked up at her.
“Do you really want to take the toughest shot available?” she asked in amazement.
“Yes, he does,” Kirk said, laughing. “This game’s no fun for him unless he tries fancy shit like that. That’s how I knew we were going to win.”
Allie arched an eyebrow at Clay. “You try that, and you’re the one who’ll have to pony up the cash when we lose.”
Clay’s teeth flashed as he grinned at her, and she knew she’d said just the thing to make him relish the challenge. Bending over the cue ball, he tried to bank the three twice before sending it into the side pocket.
The move didn’t work.
“Nice,” she said sarcastically.
He came around the table and clicked his beer bottle against hers. “I’m depending on you to pull us out.”
Allie wished she didn’t like the smell of his cologne, or the way his jeans fit his body. But she did. For the duration of the game, she almost forgot she’d come to the pool hall with a goal in mind. Especially when they lost. Because Clay had actually sunk as many balls as she had, he made her split their losses with him.
“At least I took reasonable shots,” she complained. “The shots you attempted were crazy.”
“I made a few,” he said.
And he had. Which was pretty impressive. He was obviously a much better player than the rest of them, but he hadn’t exploited his advantage.
“Let’s get another drink,” Madeline said. “Then we’ll play again.”
“Okay, but I’m not betting any more money,” Allie said, sulking. “Cops don’t make enough to get taken at pool, especially by their own partners.”
In the crush near the bar, she and Clay got separated from Kirk and Madeline. Allie almost lost Clay, too—but then his fingers curled around her hand and he guided her through the people between them. “So why’d you become a cop?” he asked as the press of bodies jostled them closer.
“I guess I like the chase,” she said.
She hadn’t realized how flirtatious that would sound until the words were out of her mouth.
Clay pivoted to face her, his expression conveying surprise and predatory interest. She’d definitely caught his attention. Deep down, she knew she was too fresh from her divorce, that she was letting the excitement of this night go to her head. But she felt young and free, as if she’d managed to turn back the clock ten years, and it was an exhilarating experience. Especially after she’d put in so much work and time and effort to get through college, get a job, improve her marriage, survive her divorce, raise her daughter….
“The chase, huh?” he murmured, his gaze riveted on her lips. “What’s it like when you get your man?”
Her heart began to pound. She’d started this, so she wasn’t about to reveal that she was already in over her head. “Last time I’m afraid the chase was the best part,” she admitted. “But I’m not sure that was entirely my fault.”
“Last time?”
“I’ve only been with my ex.”
“Sounds as if it was disappointing.”
“Very.”
“It’s not always like that.”
She gave him a weak grin. “I’ll take your word for it.”
“Not interested in a walk on the wild side, eh?”
“I’m the daughter of a cop, remember?”
“And a cop yourself. How could I forget?” He averted his eyes, but she could feel his hand at her back, steering her through the crowd. The warmth of his touch seemed to burn right through her shirt, but she was glad he was there when someone in front of her threw a playful punch and the person who dodged to get out of the way stumbled and nearly fell into her.
Clay pulled her out of danger, against his chest. “Did he step on your toes?” he murmured in her ear.
His breath tickled. Suppressing a shiver, she said, “No. Thanks to you,” and purposely avoided his touch as they continued to the bar.
They each got another beer, then went to play a second game of pool. This time she and Clay won back their money. But the No-Doz she’d taken before she’d come wasn’t mixing well with the alcohol. She was beginning to feel as if she were floating above everyone else.
She needed to find a ride home, she decided. She’d lost all focus on the reason she’d come; she’d have to talk to Clay later, when her mind was clear.
But Madeline wouldn’t hear of letting her leave so early. Clay’s sister announced that they should all dance and, a few seconds later, Allie found herself in Clay’s arms, swaying to Rascal Flats singing “Bless the Broken Road.”
“Are your parents amenable to watching your daughter when you go out?” he asked, his voice a deep rumble.
“It hasn’t been an issue so far,” she said. “This is the first time I’ve gone out at night, other than to work.”
“In six weeks?” he said.
“Is that how long I’ve been back?” She couldn’t remember clearly. In any case, she didn’t really want to talk. She wanted to listen to the music and press closer to the hard body that was moving against hers, making her breasts tingle. It felt like forever since she’d been with a man, especially a man who smelled as good as Clay—
Suddenly, he shifted to hold her away from him.
She looked up and would have released him, except that he kept his hands on her waist.
Was she the one who’d snuggled so c
lose? She must’ve been. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have reacted like that. “I’m sorry,” she said, embarrassed. “I’m not thinking straight.”
“I know.”
“I’ve gotta go.”
He didn’t answer immediately, but when he did, he said, “That’s probably a good idea. I’ll take you home.”
“No, you’ve got your stepsister and Kirk here. I’ll call my father.”
“There’s no need. I’m leaving anyway. Meet me outside in five minutes,” he said as if it had all been decided.
“Meet you?” she repeated. “Are you going somewhere else before we leave?”
He subtly indicated one side of the room. When she glanced over, she saw that Joe was watching them again.
“You don’t want to start any rumors, do you?” he said, putting his back to Barker’s nephew and effectively shielding her from his view.
Her thoughts were a little fuzzy, but she was fairly sure any rumors that might get started wouldn’t bother Clay in the least. Folks had whispered about him for most of his life. And having people believe he’d bagged the cop who was supposed to convict him of Barker’s murder would be a feather in his cap. Wouldn’t it?
Which meant…he was protecting her. He’d been protecting her when he put some space between them while they were dancing, too, she belatedly realized. But he was supposed to be the bad guy. So why wasn’t he taking advantage of the situation?
She thought of the pool they’d played. He could easily have stoked his own ego by dominating the game and walking away with all the winnings. But he hadn’t. He’d kept each game close, even lost the first one. And now, instead of slinging an arm around her and taking her outside as if he’d just claimed some kind of trophy, he was thinking of her—and how any affiliation with him would affect her.
She liked Clay. A lot.
But she was light-headed, she reminded herself. For the sake of remaining objective in her investigation, and preserving her peace of mind, she hoped she’d like him a great deal less when she sobered up.
Clay could tell Allie was tipsy but, except for those few minutes on the dance floor when she’d melted into him, she was trying hard to compensate. She sat in his truck as he drove, holding herself rigid and staring out at the landscape as if she was afraid she might say or do something she’d regret if she wasn’t careful.
“Do you plan on living with your parents for very long?” he asked.
“I never planned on moving back home in the first place.”
“You seem to be making it work.”
“It’s better than farming my daughter out to day care.”
“That was your other choice?”
“If I’d stayed in Chicago and kept my old job.”
“What about your ex-husband? He couldn’t help?”
“When you have a man who never wanted a child in the first place, you don’t get a lot of support.”
Clay knew what that was like. His father had never wanted him or his sisters or things would’ve turned out differently. “At least in this day and age he has to provide some financial support.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
Clay turned on the car radio. “How’s that?”
“I made him a trade. He signed papers relinquishing his rights to Whitney, and I gave up child support.”
Clay wished he could ask why she’d done that. Regardless of whether or not her ex had wanted the child, he was her father. But those questions were far too personal.
“Take this street,” she said.
“I know where you live.” He could tell she wasn’t interested in conversation. Even though she hadn’t drunk all that much, she was too busy fighting the effects of the alcohol combined with the No-Doz she’d taken earlier. But he figured this might be his only chance to talk to her about Lucas, to—hopefully—dissuade her from contacting him.
“Word has it you’re interested in finding my father,” he said as they came to a stop at the intersection of Fourth and McDonald.
She looked over at him, seeming puzzled. “You knew that.”
He lowered the volume on the radio, which, oddly enough, was playing the same song they’d just danced to. “I’m talking about my real father.”
“Oh.”
He drove down McDonald, then took Response Road. “Why Lucas?” he prompted. “It’s not because I think your mother’s a serial killer, if that’s what you’ve heard.” She scowled and, talking mostly to the window, she muttered, “I hate the gossip in this town.”
Clay opened the vents to stop the windows from steaming up. “What are you after, then?”
She tucked a few strands of her short hair behind a small, perfectly shaped ear. “General information. I always do a thorough background search on everyone involved in my investigations. I’d be stupid not to. People don’t exist as separate entities. We’re all part of a network, a number of networks. I can’t get a clear picture of who I’m dealing with if I don’t also examine the networks.”
“But Lucas isn’t part of my family’s ‘network.’ He left long before Lee Barker went missing.”
“Lucas? You don’t call him Dad?”
Clay passed a slower moving truck as he headed away from town. Maybe Allie was slightly drunk but she was perceptive enough to capitalize on what he’d said instead of letting him guide the conversation. “He walked out when I was only ten years old. What else would you expect?”
“That must’ve been rough,” she said.
“We survived.” Not easily, but he didn’t add that. “And I don’t want him coming back.”
She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the seat. “You think he might?”
“I’d rather not take the chance.”
She regarded him from beneath her lashes. “Then I should probably tell you not to worry. He’s remarried and living in Alaska.”
Her words provided a one-two punch that made Clay ease off on the gas. She’d already spoken to Lucas? Had he kept his mouth shut? Or had he let some detail slip that would eventually expose them?
And, on a deeper level, how come Lucas had finally settled down? He hadn’t loved his first family enough to stick by them, hadn’t loved Clay enough. But he could do it for someone else?
“Are you okay?” she asked.
They were still decelerating. Clay brought the truck up to normal speed. “Of course.”
“Maybe we should talk about this tomorrow. Your father’s got to be a difficult subject for you, and right now I’m not capable of being as sensitive as I should be.”
“I don’t need you to protect my feelings,” he said irritably. “Just tell me how you found him.”
She shrugged. “It wasn’t hard. I got his social security number from the trucking company where he worked when you were a boy and performed some databank magic.”
It was too late. Now Clay’s hands were tied.
“What did he have to say?” he asked, fearing the worst.
“I haven’t talked to him yet. He wasn’t home when I called, so I left a message with his wife.”
His wife… Clay wished those two words didn’t turn his stomach. He told himself they shouldn’t. He wasn’t a needy little boy anymore; he was thirty-four years old. But the pain was still there. “Do you know if he has other children?”
“No. But I can tell you what he does for a living.”
Clay hesitated, but curiosity ended up getting the better of him. “What?”
“He’s a pilot. Flies fishermen to remote lakes and streams.”
I’ve got a lot of life yet to live, a lot of places to see….
“Makes sense, I guess,” he muttered.
“What makes sense?”
“Nothing.”
She put a comforting hand on his arm. “I’m sorry.”
Embarrassed that he’d given away his true feelings, he shook her off. “My father doesn’t matter to me.”
The moon lit one side of her face as she studied him. “You expect me to believe
that?”
He slung an arm over the steering wheel in the most careless pose he could summon. “You don’t?”
“Not for a minute.”
Clay wasn’t sure how to respond. Most people took him at his word. But he was quickly finding that Allie wasn’t like most people. She knew he might be involved in a murder, was moving forward with an investigation that would include him at some point, and yet she treated him fairly. Innocent until proven guilty. She hadn’t automatically assumed the worst the other night, although the situation couldn’t have reflected favorably on him—or Beth Ann, either. And, earlier at the pool hall, she hadn’t let Joe intimidate her into avoiding him.
She was trying to give him the benefit of every doubt, reserving judgment, relying on facts instead of prejudice.
In a way, he appreciated her generosity; in another way, he resented it. Because now he had something to lose.
“It’s been a long time since he was part of my life,” he said, trying to suggest that what he felt about Lucas was unimportant.
“I can get a few more details about him when he calls me, if you want,” she offered. “I could even give you his number.”
“No.” He pulled to the side of the road in front of her house. The porch light on Chief McCormick’s long brick rambler glowed yellow across the sloping lawn, but the rest of the house was dark. The cars in the driveway, and the knowledge that Allie’s parents were asleep inside, made him feel sixteen again, as if he were dropping off a date.
“Maybe he misses you, too, Clay,” she said.
“He couldn’t miss me too badly, could he?”
She didn’t respond, so he continued, “Anyway, as far as I’m concerned, he’s no longer my father. I certainly don’t want anyone to engineer some sort of reunion.”
She nodded. “Okay. Let me know if you change your mind.”
Clay almost asked her not to talk to Lucas if he called. But now that she’d already left a message, he feared that pressing the issue would only raise Allie’s suspicions. Why had his mother given the man who’d triggered all the terrible events of the past a chance to destroy their future, as well?
