Bad to the Bone

by Wendy Byrne

  He grasped her shoulders and tried not to notice how soft her skin felt. “What, I’m not bartender material?”

  “You have a job.”

  “The construction project is almost finished.” While it was a spur-of-the-moment kind of decision, working at Murphy’s might be perfect. How could she hide anything when he was there all the time? “Unless you need to see my résumé.”

  She managed a half smile. “I don’t know. What are your qualifications?”

  He folded his arms across his chest. “I can pour a mean draft, I’ve got your back if you decide to do your crazy ninja thing again, but most importantly, the ladies seem to like me.”

  “And modest as well.” Her lips formed a small pout as if she were considering his qualifications. “Are you sure about this? I don’t want you volunteering because you feel sorry for me.”

  “I’m not doing this because I feel sorry for you.” He shrugged. “Okay, maybe a little.” Hoping she’d lighten up, he teased her. “But the real reason is I like the idea of being at your beck and call.” He performed a mock salute.

  For the first time since he’d walked into the room, she seemed to relax. “You’re tempting me to take advantage.”

  “That’s right. I forgot you’re a repressed woman who’s sworn off men. Go ahead, do with me as you will. I can take it.” His chest squeezed tight when she chuckled.

  “Spoken like a true man. Always thinking of sex, even under the worst of circumstances.”

  Enrique folded her within his arms. She felt small and delicate, almost like she’d break if he pressed too hard. All the nerves in her body seemed to pulse and shake as she worked through her bout of emotion. She didn’t fight the contact, rather held on like she’d finally found someone to lean on.

  If he were being honest, he savored the intimacy with her as well. But he couldn’t. It was his job to play a part. Above all else, he needed to keep that in mind. He couldn’t fall down that rabbit hole again.

  Guilt, and something much more potent but unidentifiable, forced him to loosen his hold. “Take as long as you need back here to pull yourself together. I’ll go out front and handle the bar.”

  Without another word, he walked through the door. If Sammie spoke the truth, coming upon Tony using drugs had shaken her to the core. But there was more she wasn’t saying.

  Based on what he’d observed over the last few days, she wasn’t a user. That didn’t mean she wasn’t a seller. Life would be much simpler if he could lump her in with all the drug dealers he’d sent behind bars. But he couldn’t. The idea he was wrong about her uncle, too, set his teeth on edge.

  Oh, hell, no, he wasn’t wrong. And if she was part of it, so be it.

  Lost in thought, he didn’t notice she’d returned until he heard her respond to a request from a customer. She gave him a quick glance and an even quicker smile.

  “Are you okay? You still look pale.” Her skin was whiter than usual, and her eyes were rimmed in red.

  A wry smile pulled at her lips. “I’m a blonde, remember? Everything about me is pale.”

  Waggling his eyebrows, he opted for light banter rather than serious questioning. She didn’t look like she could handle it. “Everything?”

  “There you go again with the sexual innuendos.” This time when she smiled, her shoulders relaxed.

  Enrique didn’t want to contemplate why comforting her made him feel so much better. “I can’t help it.” He held the palms of his hands up in mock surrender. “Even if you do wear Doc Martens. On you they look mighty sexy.”

  The pale color on her cheeks was replaced by bright pink. “Yeah, right. I’m worried about someone doing cocaine in my back room, and you’re talking sex.”

  “I have a one-track mind when it comes to sexy blondes.”

  Chapter Six

  Sammie felt compelled to talk to Jack again. She needed to know the truth so she could orchestrate a plan. A little honesty, or at least a few clues as to who might have been working undercover. The guy had to be around a lot. Maybe prompting Jack even a tiny bit would help him put the pieces together. The undercover cop had to have been the one who made that phone call the other night. And she needed to confront Jack about the possibility.

  After clearing security, she waited for her uncle to show. He didn’t look pleased when he stepped into the visiting area.

  “Before you say anything, I’m not leaving. It’s not even up for discussion. I had a weird phone call the other night, and Tony’s doing drugs in the back room. You need to tell me what in the hell is going on. I think the guy who arrested you might be a dirty cop, and I need to get to the bottom of it.”

  “Sammie—” There was more he was itching to say, but she could see by the way he avoided looking her in the eye, he wasn’t going to do any explaining.

  “I told you I’m not leaving until I unravel this mess, and I mean it.” She ached to hug him but couldn’t, so she did the next best thing and held her hand up to the glass instead. Seconds later, he put his on the other side. “I need answers. There’s a whole lot you’re not telling me.” She drew in a quick breath in order to finish. “I fired Tony, by the way. Why didn’t you tell me he was a drug addict? Add in the potential of a dirty cop, and the whole arrest thing stinks to high heaven.”

  “First off, Tony was in recovery. I was trying to give him a break.” He shook his head. “Hell with it, close the damn place and leave town. It’s the only way to—”

  “Absolutely not.” She vigorously shook her head. “Everything’s fine. I’m fine. We’ll be open for business in an hour or so.”

  “But…I don’t want you here.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

  “I already told you, I’m not leaving.”

  He gulped and held out his hands. “Stop already. Don’t you get it, Sammie? I did what they’re accusing me of. I bought, sold, and distributed drugs and have been for months. Now let it go and get your ass home.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. Once and for all, you need to go home.”

  He didn’t give her a chance to argue. Instead, he hung up the phone and walked back inside, leaving her to sit there and contemplate her fate as well as his.

  …

  The following morning, Sammie still couldn’t think straight. Hell, she was too shaky after her uncle’s proclamation to barely function. Why would he admit to something he didn’t do? While his words said one thing, the expression on his face said something totally different.

  It wasn’t guilt or remorse she saw. It was outright terror, which petrified her.

  The night had come and gone in a blur. Preoccupied for the most part, she’d gone through the motions. Both Chloe and Enrique had left her alone, for which she was grateful.

  With the morning came yet another plan. After checking Tony’s address and scouring the local map, she carted Jack’s bike out of the closet in the back room. If Tony did drugs, he might know who the undercover officer was or at least have a handle on what happened. Maybe she could threaten to go to the cops about what happened last night if he didn’t come clean and give information about his dealer. Or at least tell her what he’d meant when he said, “He’ll make you pay.” That had to be tied into his supplier.

  He might or might not talk to her. Either way, it was worth a shot. She had no choice but to press the issue and find out what Tony knew.

  She steered Jack’s bicycle to the back and took off. It didn’t take her long to find the address. Closer to the Lower Keys, away from the beach area and the center of town, it was the least desirable area, although still very nice.

  He lived on a quiet street with colorful houses lined in rows. Flowers were in full bloom in flower boxes along the windows or in pots on the porches.

  Sammie spotted the name “Greco” stuck in a metal slot by the door of a large home that must have been divvied up into small apartments many years ago. After pressing the button of the doorbell several times without success, she twisted the knob and
found it unlocked. “Tony,” she called as she stepped inside.

  The idea that Tony might be dead of an overdose swirled around her brain as memories snaked up her spine. Thoughts of her parents’ drug-related behavior ratcheted up the fear factor. She knew all too well what she might find.

  But the one-room apartment held no remnants of any personal belongings—and more importantly—no dead Tony. A sigh escaped her as she opened the cabinets in the kitchen area and found them empty, except for a few crumbs of food littered along the bottom. The bathroom held no evidence Tony had ever lived there. Did she have the right address?

  It seemed implausible that he might be able to escape town so quickly without leaving even a trace of his existence. And why had he left? It couldn’t be because she’d fired him, could it? There had to be something. She scoured the place one last time and finally spotted a slip of paper wedged in the corner of one of the kitchen drawers. It had a phone number scrawled across it. The ink had blurred from moisture, but the numbers were visible except for the last two digits.

  She stuck the paper in her pocket and went outside. Sammie retrieved the bike from where she’d left it and headed toward Murphy’s.

  Although the streets on the island ran in a logical pattern, Sammie managed to find herself lost and at a dead end. She retrieved the map from her back pocket and tried to figure out where she’d screwed up.

  Confident she’d found the way back, she took off again. At this time of day, the narrow streets and sidewalks were desolate, but she still hugged the curb with her bike. She heard a car coming up behind her seconds before it bumped the back tire of the bike, catapulting her over the handlebars. Before everything went black, she could have sworn she heard someone utter, “Mind your own business, sweet cheeks.”

  Chapter Seven

  Enrique had to spend as much time as possible with the evasive Ms. Murphy. He intended to dog her every move and do whatever he had to do to get the job done. Except when he walked inside, Chloe stood behind the bar.

  “Where’s the boss lady?”

  “In the back with a bag of ice.” Chloe inclined her head. “She’s refusing to go to the hospital.”

  Drug deal gone bad? Or had she gotten in the mixed up in something she had no business being in the middle of? “What happened?”

  “I’ll let her fill you in. Maybe you can talk her into seeing a doctor.”

  Enrique hustled to the back. Sammie sat on a stool near the stainless steel island, her elbow in a bowl full of ice water while she held a bag to her temple.

  “You look like hell.” He moved closer to check.

  When he pulled her arm out of the icy water, he discovered a bump and bruise below her elbow. She had a gouge running along the underside of her forearm. The palm of her right hand was scraped raw. A raised area jutted above her right eyebrow.

  “I was riding Jack’s bike, and a car hit me.” She sucked in a deep breath. “I ended up going over the handlebars and onto the sidewalk.”

  “Didn’t the driver stop and make sure you got to the hospital?”

  She shook her head. “Naw. They were probably drunk and afraid of getting arrested.”

  What was she hiding that she was so reluctant to go to the police? That didn’t make sense.

  “You didn’t call the cops to at least give them a description? Where were you?” She didn’t look him in the eye, and with every second he got more and more suspicious.

  “Down by the Lower Keys.”

  “There’s not much to see there, it’s mostly residential.” And he knew of a couple of druggies who lived in the area.

  She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth as she winced. “Tony. I wanted to make sure he was okay.”

  Or sell him his next fix. He began to think this bike accident wasn’t an accident after all. “Was he?”

  She shook her head. “He disappeared.”

  “Got any idea where he went?”

  “I’m afraid he might be dead.”

  …

  Sweet cheeks. Sammie knew without a doubt getting hit by that car had been intentional. Based on the expression on Enrique’s face, he believed the same, even if he didn’t say as much. And then there was that weird endearment that might or might not have happened.

  She pulled her elbow out of the ice water and tossed the bowl’s contents into the sink. “Time to get to work.” Her whole body felt like a giant bruise even if the colors hadn’t made their appearance yet.

  “I’m not so sure you’re up for that.”

  “The show must go on and all that.” She limped toward the bar. Every muscle in her body ached. “Besides, unless everybody orders drafts or wine, you’re in big trouble.”

  He patted a book on the counter in front of him. “I have the barkeeper’s bible, I’ll be fine. Besides, if worse comes to worse, a little coercion to get people to see my way works.”

  Sammie tsked, fighting back the part of her that found him so damn charming. “We need to attract customers, not frighten them away.”

  “Ah, shucks, and here I had the whole thing planned out. Scare everyone away, including Chloe, and then bring you upstairs and nurse you back to health.”

  “I don’t think so. As I keep trying to tell you, you’re not my type. And even if you were, I’ve given up men, remember?” Despite her words, her body flushed hot.

  He trailed his index finger down the length of her forearm. Immediately, her insides smoldered. Even her battered knees went weak. Bad boys were one thing, but this guy was on a whole other level altogether.

  “That wasn’t a proposition. I was trying to be noble.”

  Chloe moved between them. She must have overheard the conversation, because she barked out a laugh. “A word of warning, Sammie, when a guy uses the word noble, it’s his ploy to get you into bed. I have five brothers and a string of dumb-ass boyfriends. I know guyspeak.”

  Enrique brought his hands to cover his chest. “That hurt.”

  Sammie made a face. “Get over yourself, Enrique.”

  “Yeah,” Chloe chimed in.

  “I’ll be fine. But if I start to act crazy, assume it’s some kind of concussion, and you might want to seek medical attention.”

  “Define crazy.” He poured all of them glasses of water, sticking a slice of lemon in each.

  She suppressed a smile, feeling thankful for the diversion. “I don’t know, maybe I’ll start being nice to you, Enrique.”

  He nodded. “Or maybe tackle me to the ground and have your way with me. In which case, I gotta warn you, I’ll most definitely wait until you’re done before I take you to the doc.” Enrique drew in a breath. “Then again, maybe that’s my fantasy. Did I say that out loud?”

  She laughed. “It’s nice to know you have my best interest at heart.”

  “I’m there for you, babe.”

  “I’ll go back tomorrow and see if I can talk to some neighbors or something.”

  He touched her, his fingers loosely grasping her good arm. “Whoa, there, Nancy Drew. I’ll go with you. You don’t need another bike accident. We’ll take my Harley. Less likely to get bumped off the road.”

  Part of her wanted to refuse his help. The other part was too tired to fight him.

  Chloe walked up. “I need three key lime daiquiris, one island rum runner, and a draft.” She laid her tray on the top of the bar. “And Michael asked if you could stop by and talk to him. I think he might have a crush on you.”

  Sammie suppressed the shudder and nodded. “Tell him I’ll be there after I get together this order.”

  Enrique threw ice in the blender and flipped it on. “Who’s Michael?” he whispered directly into her ear.

  Goose bumps broke out on her arms. “The guy who always sits at that table by the window.” She retrieved the bottle of rum from beneath the counter and poured it into the mix, trying desperately to keep the focus on mixing drinks.

  “You mean the nerdy-looking guy who always sits alone?” When he moved in behind her to h
elp with the order, his proximity did something quirky to her hormone levels. His breath fanned across her neck like temptation itself. She closed her eyes and resisted the urge to lean against him. Not that she was the type to take refuge from a man, but she’d been through a hellacious couple of days.

  She inched away. The last thing she needed was another complication in her life. “He’s not nerdy. Actually, I think he looks safe.”

  “Only if you’re trying to protect yourself from boredom.”

  “You’ve got it all wrong. I’m trying to protect myself from trouble.” Finishing up the last of the order, Sammie headed toward the table and away from his sultry appeal.

  “Hi, Michael. You wanted to talk to me.”

  “Please sit down.” He moved from his seat to pull out the chair for her. “You look like you could use a little break.”

  She slicked an errant hair behind her ear. “It’s too early for that. Talk to me about midnight or so. I’m sure I’ll be more than ready by then.”

  “What happened?”

  Sammie touched at her forehead. “A minor bike accident. No biggie.”

  “Taking a tour of our beautiful island in your spare time?” He smiled at her and patted at her hand on the table.

  It took everything in her to not recoil. He seemed like a nice guy, which was probably why she felt so repulsed. Only the disastrous guys appealed to her.

  “How well did you know Tony?” As long as she was here, she might as well ask the question. The more she knew about Tony, the more she might know about this DEA agent. She was convinced there was a connection.

  He straightened in his seat. For a few seconds his face tensed, but then he softened it with a half smile. “Not much. He kept to himself. Why?”

  She shook her head, suddenly feeling a little odd asking him these questions. “No reason.”

  “Are you sure you’re all right, Sammie? You seem a little preoccupied.”