by Cindi Myers
“If that’s your idea of pillow talk—”
“I know, all those multisyllable words, too hard for you to comprehend,” she snapped, irritated with herself, as always, for letting him get to her. “But this is about your brother. And murder.” His eyes went as hard as his expression, which gave her a little burst of satisfaction. Not so tough now, are you? “Care to shut up and listen?”
* * *
GRADY HAD ALWAYS had a little too much fun riling up the Delaneys, Laurel in particular. She got so pinched-looking, and when he really got her going, the hints of gold in her dark eyes switched to flame. And unlike the rest of the Delaneys, Laurel gave as good as she got.
But her words erased any good humor riling her up had created. Murder and Clint. Damn. Clint might be his half brother without an ounce of Carson blood in him, but he was still family. Which meant he was under Grady’s protection.
Grady jerked his chin toward the back of the bar. Though the regulars knew not to swing through the old saloon doors until three on the dot or later, he didn’t want anyone accidentally overhearing this conversation.
“I’m sorry, I don’t speak caveman. Is that little chin jerk supposed to mean something?”
He flicked a glance down her tall, slender frame. He could see her weapon outlined under the shapeless polo shirt she wore. The mannish khakis were slightly better than the polo because they at least gave the impression of her having an ass. A shame of an outfit, all in all.
“Let me ask you this,” he said, leaning his elbows on the freshly waxed surface of the bar. He’d spent most of a lifetime learning how to appear completely unaffected when affected was exactly what he was, and this was no different. “Is this visit personal or professional?” he asked, making sure to drawl the word personal and infuse it with plenty of added meaning.
“Professional,” she all but spat. “Like I said earlier. Trust me when I say I will never set foot through those pointless swinging doors for anything other than strictly professional business.”
“Aw, sweetheart, don’t lay down a challenge you won’t be able to win.”
“I see that even when it comes to your brother, you can’t take anything important seriously. How about this? The murder victim is Jason Delaney. The only person around at the time of the murder was Clint Danvers.”
Grady swore.
“I need to question your brother before news of this murder and that he was a witness spreads through town like wildfire. All we need is for one person to see a Delaney’s been murdered, and know Clint is technically a Carson and a witness, and we have a whole feud situation on our hands. Are you going to help me or not?” she said evenly, the only show of temper at this point in her eyes, where he could all but picture the flecks of gold bursting into flame one by one.
He didn’t trust a Delaney in the least, but Laurel Delaney wasn’t quite like the rest. She hated the feud, and he almost believed she might be more interested in the truth than crucifying Clint without evidence. The rest of the town would be a different matter. This would result in the kind of uproar that could only cause problems for everyone.
Clint was in trouble, and Bent was in trouble, and the thing that kept the Carsons and Delaneys in this town, most of them hating and blaming each other for good or for bad, was that something about Bent had been poured into their blood at birth.
Something about the buildings that had stood the test of time in the shadow of distant, rolling mountains, far away from any kind of typical civilization. Something about the way history was imprinted into their fingerprints and their names, even if some people chose to ignore it.
Bent was like an organ in the body of those who stayed, and no matter what side of the feud you were on, Bent was the common good. Usually no one could agree on what that meant.
This wouldn’t be any different. Laurel would want to solve the problem with warrants and investigations and all sorts of time-consuming bull. He and his cousins could have it sorted out with a few well-timed threats, maybe some fists, probably within the week.
So, he smiled at Laurel, as genially as he could manage for a man who wasn’t used to being genial at all. “Have to pass, princess. Guess you and your gun will have to do all the heavy lifting.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Sometimes I can’t decide if you think I’m stupid or if that’s just you. This is real life, Grady, not the Wild West—especially your lame version of it. If you want to arrest a murderer, you have to conduct an investigation. If you want to save your brother from the possibility of not just being a suspect, but being convicted, you need to work with the police. This isn’t about Delaney versus Carson. It’s about right and wrong. Truth and justice.”
“Guess we’ll find out.”
She shook her head. “Don’t come crying to me when Clint is locked up.”
“Don’t let the doors slap that pretty little ass of yours on the way out. You might end up enjoying it.”
“You know, I don’t get to say this enough in a day. Screw you, Grady.” She flipped him off as she sauntered out of the saloon. The doors didn’t hit her on the way out, but that didn’t stop him from watching her disappear.
He waited until she was completely gone, then watched the clock tick by another few minutes. Casually, he pulled out his phone, then gave one last glance at the doors that had gone completely still. As if he didn’t have a care in the world, he sent off a text to his cousins.
We need a meeting.
Ty was the first to respond. Mine, cow, or woman?
Grady’s mouth quirked at the code they’d developed as teens. Mine was property, because the Carsons had managed to eke out some of their own, even with the Delaney name stamped all over this town since the first Delaney bastards had screwed the first Carsons out of their rightful claim to land and gold. Because of that nasty start of things in Bent, the Carsons didn’t let anybody mess with what was rightfully theirs.
Cow meant family, because the Carsons and the Delaneys of old had gone to great and sometimes disastrous lengths to protect their livestock around the turn of the twentieth century, and these days, going to great lengths to protect family was still a number one priority for the Carsons.
And woman...
Grady stared at where Laurel had gone. Well, she was a woman, and she was a pain. A cop. A Delaney.
Yeah, he had a woman problem, but it was one that he was going to ignore, and it would go away. So, he typed Cow into his phone before grabbing his keys and heading out the back.
Copyright © 2018 by Nicole Helm
ISBN-13: 9781488033599
Danger on Dakota Ridge
Copyright © 2018 by Cynthia Myers
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