Sweeter Than Sin

by Shiloh Walker

  Hooking a left, she headed down the street. Her belly rumbled as the scent of food caught her attention. She hadn’t had much to eat and she was tired, hungry and ready to crash.

  She had no place to sleep, although she’d been prepared for that.

  First, though, she needed to get some food.

  The last thing she’d eaten was a burger from McDonald’s and that had been hours ago.

  She’d hitchhiked her way from Louisville, clutching a sleek six-inch blade against her thigh the entire time in case the friendly-faced truck driver who’d given her a ride decided he wanted to do more than give her a ride.

  She’d had to fight her way through that sort of thing, more than once. She’d probably have to do it again. That didn’t make it any easier to think about, and she’d been glad once he left her off at the top of the hill. I can’t go through downtown. It’s a mess and a half right now thanks to construction and I need to get this delivery made.… Can you make it okay? He’d looked worried as he let her out.

  She’d promised him she’d be fine and she’d breathed easier once he’d driven off.

  He hadn’t recognized her.

  She knew his name.

  That was Vernon Driscoll, and for a while in school he’d been a horrible bully. Something must have changed for him, because he’d been pretty polite there. He had a wedding ring on. Maybe it was that. Maybe it was just life. She didn’t know. He’d been four years older than her, but even she had heard about what a jerk he’d been in school.

  Of course, Madison was a small town. Word traveled pretty fast.

  And he hadn’t recognized her …

  Or what if he had?

  Now, even though it had been nearly an hour since he’d let her out of the cab of the truck, she was panicking. What if he had recognized her and that was why he’d let her out—

  A cop car drove by and it took all of her nerve to keep from bolting down the street.

  Instead, she calmly turned and walked in the door that had just opened.

  It was loud and packed and rowdy and she could smell food.

  If anybody was looking for her, she could lose herself in here and she’d eat, figure out her next move.

  Keenly aware of the cop car still cruising on down Main Street, she made her way over to the bar and wedged herself onto the seat at the end, keeping the front door in her line of sight. She’d already noticed where the other exits were, where the bathroom was, and if memory served right—she’d check her GPS to be sure—she knew which route would be the best to take if she had to try and evade the cops.

  It was sad that she had to think about this shit.

  It was sad that she had to think about running.

  It was sad that she’d spent the past twenty years of her life in hiding—

  “What can I get you?”

  Now that … that wasn’t sad.

  That voice was practically a wet dream, in and of itself. The man’s low, lazy drawl stroked over her skin like rough velvet and she dragged her eyes up to meet a pair of dark, dark brown eyes.

  Well, I can think of one thing.…

  The punch of lust was visceral, unexpected. Heat rushed through her, centered low in her belly, as she sat there, wondering just how long it had been since she’d responded to a guy.

  A while. A very long while.

  A faint smile tugged the corners of his mouth. Such a nice mouth. She knew without a doubt he knew how to use that mouth. As the faint smile warmed just a little, she squeezed her thighs together and returned the smile, tried not to stare. If she stared, people might stare back, and that would get her noticed.

  But oh, oh my … how she wanted to stare. Brown hair spilled into his eyes, silky and thick, the kind of hair a woman could fist her hands in as she pressed her mouth to his, or maybe as he kissed his way down her torso, lower. Her peripheral vision served her a little too well and she saw the black T-shirt, stretching across a solid pair of shoulders, perfectly sculpted. Just like the biceps visible under the short sleeves. And … wow. Tatts. He had tattoos going up and down both arms.

  She’d like to study them. Instead, she forced herself to glance past him to the bar, keeping her tone distracted. If she kept staring at him, like she wanted to, she’d be breaking one of her cardinal rules … attracting attention. And here, in Madison, of all places.

  “I’ll take a beer, whatever you have on tap.” She’d drink it and hate it, but she knew she’d stand out if she didn’t have something, since she’d wedged into one of the few spots at a crowded bar, and a cocktail would cost more.

  He nodded and turned away, and she took advantage of the moment to study him from under her lashes. Probably a stupid move, because he made her mouth go dry. The face, the hands, the way he moved. She felt a hot little tug down in areas she’d been ignoring for way too long. As he put the beer in front of her, he leaned his elbows against the bar. “Looking for anything to eat tonight?”

  Would it be really, really inappropriate to ask if he was on the menu?

  Yes. Probably. So instead, she smiled again. “Hungry enough to eat a horse.”

  “We don’t serve that here.… You’ll have to settle for a burger or wings.” He grinned and she felt a rush of warmth straight to her chest at that smile.

  And he probably knew it.

  Pieces clicked into place. That smile. That was all it took.

  That smile had fueled her teenage dreams, right up until she tumbled straight into the arms of Noah Benningfield.

  Son of a bitch—

  She swallowed and had to fight the urge to bolt off the stool and take off. It was the last thing she could do, because drawing attention was bad. Very bad. And Adam would notice. Adam had always noticed everything.

  Adam Brascum. Son of a bitch, why did she have to plunk her ass down in front of one of the very few people who just might recognize her, even after all this time?

  His eyes roamed over her face and she took great care to look bored, uninterested. He’d always been a hellacious flirt, and if she gave him any sign he’d pick up on it. And she wouldn’t be able to hide from him.

  At the subtle shift in her attitude his brow went up and a faint smile crossed his face. She wanted to punch him. The need to hit him was gut-wrenching and she couldn’t even understand why, but it was there. Instead of giving in to it, she just looked down at the menu he pushed in front of her. “Now that I think of it, horse doesn’t sound all that appetizing anyway. I guess I’ll just go with a burger.”

  She gave him a polite smile and handed him the menu, looking away.

  You’re dismissed, bye-bye now.

  He read the message loud and clear. From the corner of her eye she could see how his expression changed, and she breathed a little easier as he tucked the menu away and rang up her meal.

  The friendly smile stayed on his face, but she’d bet it was the same friendly smile he had given the guy sitting next to her. All business, it seemed.

  She tried not to feel the sting.

  She needed Adam not to notice her, so it was best if he wasn’t flirting.

  Flirting, not good.

  She caught sight of the name emblazoned over the mirrored wall across the bar and she could have kicked herself. Shakers. Shit. His parents’ place. She should have paid attention when she ducked inside, but she had been more focused on getting away from cops.

  Although really, considering where she was and the size of the town, she was likely to see people she knew everywhere.

  What she had to do was not react.

  And eat her food, so she could get out of here without him figuring out who she was.

  * * *

  She had a mouth he wanted to taste.

  Adam had thought maybe, just maybe, he could get over the month long self-enforced dry spell. Ever since he’d left Jez sleeping in her bed over at the B and B outside of town, he hadn’t enjoyed a woman in weeks.

  He wasn’t going to include Layla.

  Layla hadn�
��t been about escape or release.

  She’d been an … aberration.

  That was all there was to it.

  Yeah, he wouldn’t have minded seeing just where things might have led with the pretty lady with the big eyes and that top-heavy mouth. That mouth. He was going to think about it more than once, but thoughts would have to suffice, because he’d gotten that message loud clear.

  In the blink of an eye, she’d turned hello, honey, to Get me a burger, kthxbai.

  Too bad, because standing next to her had done something to him that he hadn’t felt in a good long while. She had a narrow, fox-like face, and those cute retro glasses made him think of sexy, wicked schoolteachers, and he’d just love to have a lesson or two from her … or give her the lessons.

  But there wouldn’t be any lessons. Nothing to be done for it.

  Adam knew his way around women too well and he knew that look. It was entirely possible he could charm his way into her panties. He’d done that more than once, but the past few years he’d given it up. He’d rather walk away from a woman knowing she wasn’t glaring daggers into his back, looking at him with disgust in her eyes.

  He woke up and saw that look every time he looked in a mirror. So he’d rather leave the women with a smile.

  A short time later, he served up the burger and chips and offered her another beer. She smiled, shook her head and went back to pretending nothing else in the world existed.

  Except the door.

  She hid it well, but she watched the door like she expected it to disappear. Oh, she wasn’t overt about it. She just made sure nothing stayed between her and the escape route. It was a sort of readiness, like she knew she might have to bolt at any given second.

  He’d been working here since he was sixteen, running the place for the past fifteen years, since his parents died in the accident when he was twenty-five. Adam could spot a drunk from a mile away and he knew when somebody was trying to make a drug deal in his place, when a fight was about ready to break out, and he knew when somebody was trying to hide.

  That hiding thing was the easiest thing to spot, for him, at least.

  He also knew how to hide. In plain sight, even. He didn’t even know if anybody had ever seen past the mask he wore, but he knew the signs.

  So he saw the signs on her well enough. Travis Nevins sat down next to her, an admiring look in his eyes, and he struck up a conversation, or tried to. She made the right sounds, nodded, and as soon as she could she ended it, and Travis, being no idiot, cut his losses and vacated the stool.

  After he was gone, she shifted around so that she had her back to whoever might take the seat next.

  Polite, subtle … Leave me alone.

  Through it all, she watched the door.

  When somebody cut in front of her and blocked her view, she changed her angle. And kept her watch on the door.

  If she hadn’t worked so hard to downplay it, Adam might not have even noticed. But she worked too hard to hide it, and that, in and of itself, made him notice.

  Shakers was packed. That wasn’t unusual. It was Friday; people were ready to blow steam. But the atmosphere in general was … tense. That was putting it mildly.

  He knew why, too.

  He’d caught the whisper of the name earlier.

  Charlie Sutter, missing for a few weeks.

  Not missing, now. Dead, in the river.

  Dead how? Adam had overheard one of his servers asking the off-duty cop at the bar.

  Beats the fuck out of me. The cop shrugged, but Adam had a glimpse of his flat eyes. Adam would bet the night’s receipts that the man knew, all right. He just wasn’t saying.

  They had another corpse and it was hotter than hell outside.

  All sorts of people were going to be edgy and pissed.

  No wonder Adam had already had to break up two near fights. If he got through the night without calling the police, it would be a miracle. He wondered if the cop might be talked into hanging around awhile. Luther did enjoy his wings. Maybe a free order would do the trick.

  A raised voice from the far end of the bar caught Adam’s ears and he sighed. Every damn person had his tail in a twist tonight.

  Adam didn’t have to speculate about just what the problem was. It wasn’t just the discovery of Charlie Sutter’s body, either. It was more. A lot more.

  That fucking club.

  Somebody had pried the information out of somebody at the police department and given it to the local news. The Cronus Club. They couldn’t call it the I Rape Little Boys Club.

  His hand tightened on the neck of the bottle and Adam had to remind himself to calm down, pull back. Mixing up a hurricane for Hank’s wife, Tina, Adam took that and the beer down to the end and put them in front of the couple, leaning against the bar and taking a minute while there was a brief lull. Hank smiled at him. Adam just nodded.

  “You hear about Junior?” Hank asked, his eyes troubled. They’d spent some time working together when Junior had hired Hank to help with a side project a few years back.

  Adam nodded.

  “I…” Hank stared sightlessly at the wall in front of him. “I can’t believe it. Just can’t wrap my mind around it.”

  “Charlie. The Blue family.” Tina rested her head against Hank’s arm, dragging her finger through the condensation gathering on her glass. “I mean … I know Leah. She’s kind of … uppity and weird, but I can’t believe she knew what Glenn was doing to their son—”

  “It’s a bunch of bullshit.”

  Now Adam was used to that vehement protest. Used to it, fed up with it. But the last person he expected to hear it from was Rita Troyer. It caught him off-guard, so off-guard that he just stood there for a second as one of his best waitresses propped her tray on her hip and all but got into Tina’s face and snarled. “It’s bullshit,” Rita said again. “You hear me?”

  “Rita,” he said, shoving off the bar while, next to Hank, Tina’s face went red and her eyes widened. She ducked her head and focused on the drink while Rita swung her head around and glared at Adam.

  “That’s enough,” he said calmly. It was hard to keep your voice level and be heard without shouting in a place as loud as Shakers, but he had a lot of practice.

  “I’m tired unto death of all this bullshit,” she said, glaring at him. Her eyes practically shot sparks as she looked back at Tina, her face pale save for two flags of color high on her cheeks.

  Hank wrapped his arm around his wife’s shoulders and shot Rita a dark look. “Back off, Rita. The conspiracy theory shit kind of goes to hell when even the guilty ones are confessing that it’s true.”

  She opened her mouth to argue, but Adam caught her arm and bent his head. “If you want to still have a job here, you’ll drop it.”

  The fury that darkened her eyes seemed to lift and she stopped, shaking her head. “What—” A sigh escaped her and she looked around, nodded. “Hell.” Swiping a hand over her mouth, she glanced at Tina. “Sorry, Tina. All of this just cuts too close to home.” Rita reached behind her and tugged at the strings on her apron. “I need to take my break.”

  As she lost herself in the crowd, Adam caught Buck’s eye and jerked his head at the bar. While the other bartender nodded, Adam headed out. As he passed by, Luther looked at him and lifted his glass. Adam blew out a breath and the older cop’s mouth curved in a smile as Adam continued after Rita.

  Something was eating at her. If he wanted her in any condition to work, he needed to figure out what it was.

  He found her outside with a cigarette, staring up at the sky.

  “You want to talk?”

  “No.” She stared straight ahead. “I came out here to be alone.”

  “This ain’t easy on none of us, sugar. Hurts the whole damn town.” Uneasy tendrils curled through him, teasing his gut, making his hair stand on end. In the back of his head, he all but heard a voice going, It’s not over. It’s not over. It’s not over …

  Instead of saying anything, he waited. Ri
ta wanted to talk. This was where they came when they wanted a word away from the club. If she’d wanted privacy, she would have gone to the roof, where he wouldn’t go. That was what she always did.

  Moments ticked by; the breeze kicked up, bringing with it the scent of the river, alcohol and food from the grill. He could hear the noise from the restaurant and the muted sounds of cars as they occasionally passed by.

  And a shaky sigh from Rita.

  Without moving his head, he shifted his eyes to her.

  She had her head pressed to the wall, the cigarette hanging forgotten from her fingers as she stared off into the night, tears streaming silently down her cheeks.

  “Rita?”

  She turned her head and stared at him.

  Pure hell shone in her eyes.

  “My father,” she said softly.

  Tension slammed into Adam. He didn’t let it show, but it was hard to stand there, relaxed, noncommittal, when he knew exactly where this was leading.

  “Harlan?” He hooked his thumbs in his pockets, kept his voice easy. “Is he okay?”

  She laughed bitterly. “Okay?” She lifted the cigarette, studied the glowing tip and then took a deep, deep drag. She blew out a smoke ring, watching as it dissipated in the air, tears still glittering on her cheeks. She didn’t look back at him as she answered, “No, Adam. He’s not okay. He’s a sick, evil bastard. Always was, but I’m just now figuring all that out.”

  Muscles locked, tight, he stood there, staring at her as she lapsed into silence, puffing on the cigarette and then using the wall to put it out. After a minute, she looked back at him.

  “He had this thing. When I was a kid. Did it less often as I got older, as he got older. But he had his ‘boys,’ as he called it. He’d go and hang out with his boys once or twice a month. Pete Sutter disappeared and you’d think his entire world had shattered.”

  Closing one hand into a fist, Adam fought the rage as it built inside him. Rita continued to watch him, like she wanted him to just … know.

  And he had to hear, as much as it sickened him, as much as he wanted to cut his ears off, cut out his brain. He had to hear and she had to tell him. And when it was done, he was going to do everything he could to convince her to call the cops.