Sam remained sitting, remarkably calm as both Lucas and Teagan glared down at him. Of course, they would have to be fucking idiots to attack a member of the Houston Police Department in the middle of a bar, plus he was probably carrying. Hard to detect beneath that hideous sports jacket.
“I think Tony Hughes was coming to see you,” Sam said in a calm voice.
Lucas scowled. “Why?”
“Because of this.” Reaching into his pocket, the detective pulled out a clear baggie and set it on the table.
Lucas leaned forward to study the wrinkled piece of paper that had his name and address scribbled on it.
“Where’d you get that?” he demanded.
“Tony had it in his front pocket.”
“Shit,” Lucas breathed in shock.
“Still no idea why he was in the neighborhood?”
“No.” A chill inched down Lucas’s spine. Why the hell had Tony been looking for him after fifteen years? And who would shoot him? Questions that needed answers, but not until he shook off the tenacious policeman. It was never a good idea to chat with a homicide detective when he had a connection to the dead body. “And we’re about to take this to my lawyer’s office.”
“About damned time,” Teagan muttered.
Sam lifted his hand, trying to look harmless. “I just have one more question for now.”
“What?”
The detective reached into his pocket to pull out another baggie. This one held a photo of a dark-haired woman with the words kill her or else scrawled across her face.
“Do you recognize this woman?”
Lucas reached to snatch the baggie off the table, holding the picture toward the muted light. He barely heard Teagan’s low curse or Sam’s protest at his rough handling of evidence.
Even at a distance he’d easily recognized the image of the stunning young woman.
Her features had matured from the soft prettiness of youth into elegant lines. And her body had filled out with curves that made his mouth water.
But he’d recognized the thickly-lashed dark eyes and soft, kissable mouth anywhere.
His stomach twisted with a stark sense of horror that wrenched the air from his lungs.
“Mia,” he rasped.
“Mia?” With a surge, the Detective was on his feet, snatching the baggie from Lucas’s fingers. “Last name?”
“Ramon. Mia Ramon,” Lucas said even as he was turning away from the table.
On some level he understood that he wasn’t thinking clearly. Shock did that to a man. But his primitive instincts didn’t give a shit. All he knew was that Mia was in danger.
Nothing else mattered.
“Wait,” Sam commanded, as Lucas headed toward the door. “Where are you going?”
Lucas’s long strides never faltered. Not even when he sensed Teagan moving to walk at his side.
“What can I do?” his friend asked.
That simple.
No aggravating demands for an explanation. Just a sincere desire to help.
“Tell the guys I’m headed to Shreveport,” he said, his subconscious making a list of tasks that had to be finished before he could leave Houston. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
When You Wish Page 55