by Nicole Helm
Or maybe that’s Grady’s influence. Just the thought of Grady filled her with... Well, it was irritation, but something in addition to that annoyance Grady normally evoked. And she was all too afraid it was familiar. A tingle. A shutting down of her rational brain. That same stupid thing that used to sizzle through her when she’d been a teenager hanging out with his sister and would catch a glimpse of him.
“Laurel. What’s going on? Really. I know you can’t share all the police stuff, but you can share the you stuff.”
Her stuff? There was no her stuff. There was her job and her duty to this town and that was her entire life. She was proud of that. She was.
But something about Grady’s obnoxious comment about chemistry had dug inside of her and stirred up all the lonely she so often ignored.
Like some sort of horrible cosmic sign, her phone vibrated with an incoming text message. Jen snuck a quick glance at the sender’s name, which read GC, and frowned.
“Yes, I’m going to ask who GC is, and yes, it better not be Grady Carson.”
“Jen.”
“I thought you grew out of this.”
“Grew out of what?”
“Oh, like it wasn’t obvious when we were in high school that you mooned over the guy?”
“Pot. Kettle,” Laurel said, pointing to Jen and then to herself. “Ty Carson is back in town, by the way.”
Jen’s entire body stiffened. Yeah, Laurel might be stupid and a little bit weak in the head when it came to Grady, but her sister had no moral high ground to stand on. Laurel had only ever looked. She was pretty sure her sister had done more than that with Grady’s cousin back in the day.
Ignoring her sister’s waves of disapproval, Laurel brought the message up on her screen.
Gaskill here. On alert. Do. Not. Come. Here. Will report back.
“Well. Time to put my plan into motion,” she said, taking one last glimpse at herself in the mirror. Anyone who knew her and looked right at her might figure out who she was, but if she stayed in the shadows, kept a low profile, she could sit next to Hank Gaskill and listen to everything he had to say.
Maybe it would be pointless, but maybe it wouldn’t. She had to try. She’d sent Hart over to search Jason’s place while she’d been at the mine, but he hadn’t come up with anything. She’d take another look herself tomorrow, but for now she had to work on the people involved. The leads she did have.
“I should go with you.”
“I believe the point of the disguise is, you know, Delaneys not going into Rightful Claim.”
“Someone should go with you. I don’t like you going there by yourself.”
“It’s police business, Jen. It’s hardly dangerous. I’m just going to listen for some information that I may or may not even find. If someone is with me, it ruins the whole point.”
“You’re going to Grady’s bar. That’s not all police business.”
“I don’t know why you suddenly think I can’t control myself, but I can. Besides, looking at Grady and Grady looking back are two very separate things.” Which was probably not the way to convince her sister she didn’t have a thing for Grady.
“You don’t honestly think Grady Carson has never looked back at you.”
Laurel turned her attention from her reflection in the mirror to her sister. After all, she and Jen looked a lot alike. Jen’s hair was a shade lighter, and her eyes had hints of hazel. They were only about ten months apart, and they’d always been close.
But Jen had always been into the whole girlie thing. Understanding how to put on makeup and dressing to attract attention. Laurel had never been comfortable with that. She was more interested in police procedure and appearing tough and untouchable. She’d always wanted to be a cop, and a female cop had to be a little untouchable.
So, it didn’t matter if her mind on occasion wandered to Grady, and touching him. It was all...fantasy. And irrelevant to her current situation at hand. “This conversation is ridiculous. I’m going to go do my job. Beginning and end of story.”
“Fine. But I want regular text updates and I want to know when you’re home. In fact, I’d feel even better if you come back here when you’re done and assure me it was all police work and nothing dangerous.”
Laurel stood and stepped out of the bathroom, adjusting the bra holster that wasn’t comfortable, but the only way to conceal her gun effectively. At least in the jeans Jen had loaned her, because all of Jen’s dresses were far, far, far too short for Laurel’s taste.
“I’ll text you when I get home.”
“I don’t like that you’re wearing that gun. That means you think something bad is going to happen.”
Laurel took a deep breath. “No, it means I’m on duty. You know who you sound like right now.”
Jen wrinkled her nose. “Much as I hate sounding like Dad, it is a terrible feeling to know you’re going off into danger.”
“You’re not usually this silly about my work stuff. What’s going on?”
Jen crossed her arms over her chest. “Nothing is going on except you’re not usually walking the line between Delaney and Carson while investigating a murder. A murder of someone we’re related to, I might add.”
“It’s my job, Jen. I do it well.” She picked up the purse Jen had laid out for her to match the outfit. A little clutch that made no sense to Laurel. “What do you do with this thing? There’s no strap. How am I supposed to attach it to myself?”
Jen rolled her eyes. “You carry it. It’s cute. Not everything has to be functional.”
“In my world it does.” But she was playing a part. A part her sister had helped her get ready for. She turned to Jen and pulled her into a hug. “Thank you for helping me. You know I appreciate it.”
“You owe me. Stay away from Grady Carson. Please just listen to me on that. Even if you take out all the feud nonsense, the Carsons are not meant for us. Period. I don’t want you getting hurt by that moron.”
“You ever going to tell me what happened between you and Ty?”
“Nothing happened between me and Ty. Ty Carson does not exist as far as I’m concerned. You should go. Policewoman business awaits.”
Laurel rolled her eyes. She’d always been close with her siblings, but none of them had ever poked much at each other’s romantic lives. It was considered a separate, no-go zone. Laurel wasn’t sure why things were that way, but she supposed it was small-town complications. Everyone else poked into everyone else’s business enough, why add to it?
Besides, Jen’s worry was irrational, and Laurel shouldn’t keep defending herself. It was pointless. She was not going to get involved with Grady Carson. No matter how much chemistry they had or how much he wanted her to admit it.
She had bigger things to worry about than chemistry. Carsons. Delaneys. Bent and feuds. She had a murder to solve.
And solve it she would.
* * *
GRADY WAS LOATH to admit that running a bar and trying to eavesdrop on someone was at cross-purposes. Any time he got remotely close to Hank’s table and was able to overhear something of the conversation, someone called his name or clapped him on the back and asked him a question. Men made loud, raucous jokes in his direction and women offered smiles and innuendo and whatever.
It was something he usually enjoyed, the banter and flirting. The noise, the conversations. But today it only served to piss him off.
If he couldn’t get any of the information Laurel needed, he’d have to admit he failed. That galled for too many reasons to count.
He was not a guy who had to prove himself to people. He was what he was, and anyone who didn’t like it could go to hell. The only person who had ever challenged that had been his dear old deadbeat dad.
And Laurel Delaney.
If he didn’t get the information she needed, she would, and it seemed like adding insult to inju
ry to fail at this, as well as know that she inevitably wouldn’t.
The saloon doors swung open and Grady glanced up at the latest patron as he always did. There were a few people who tried to stir up fights in his bar, and he liked to cut them off at the pass.
But this customer was a woman. She looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t quite place her. Dark eyes scanned the bar, moving past him rather quickly.
He frowned. She wasn’t a regular or a known troublemaker, or he would have been able to place her. She didn’t look like any Bent resident he knew. Something prickled through him, though, some kind of omen, as if he should be paying attention.
He shook his head. He was being some kind of paranoid, hyperalert idiot because he’d let Laurel’s crap get into his head, and that just wasn’t acceptable.
He focused back in on his target. If he could go clean off the table next to Hank, he might be able to hear something before someone bothered him again.
But just as he pulled the rag out of his back pocket, the woman who’d just entered slid into a chair at the table he’d been about to pretend to clean.
“It’s not clean,” he said gruffly.
“I don’t mind,” she replied airily.
Something about that voice... Grady glanced over at her but she studiously ignored his gaze. What was going on here? He thought about asking her if he knew her, but he was a little afraid she was some unhappy ex-lover. He didn’t have time for that, and she didn’t seem interested in rehashing anything.
“Get you something to drink?”
“A Coke, please,” she said, her head turned so far away from him he could only see curly blond waves of hair and the peekaboo of an ear.
“Be right back.”
She nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear. Which was when he saw it. The little wink of a silver star earring. Which Grady supposed could be a coincidence. Maybe tiny silver star earrings were all the rage and young women everywhere were wearing them.
But the woman’s behavior, her voice, those familiar eyes darting all over his bar... He reached out and grabbed her wrist. When she jerked her gaze toward him, all flashes of gold fury, he very nearly dropped his jaw.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded. He was more than a little angry she’d fooled him for as long as she had with that ridiculous blond wig and clothes that actually fit her all-too-enticing body.
“Nothing,” she hissed. “Now, if you would get me my Coke.”
He gave her hand a tug. “Come over to the bar so I can get a tab started for you.”
She held firm in her seat, staring him down with those dark, expressive eyes. “That won’t be necessary,” she said, over-enunciating each word.
She nodded her head toward Hank’s table as if to tell Grady to stop in case someone in the group might overhear. Maybe he should. But he’d told her not to come in here. He’d told her he could handle it.
But he wasn’t handling it. Even if her disguise didn’t do much, if she sat here and sipped a Coke she had a far better chance of hearing something than he did. No one would recognize her if she calmly sat there. No one would believe Laurel Delaney was in Rightful Claim in a blond wig with an actual hint of cleavage showing.
Damn it.
He released her wrist. “One Coke coming right up,” he muttered. Because he was not his father, and could back off even when he was irrationally pissed.
“Who’s that chick?” Ty asked as Grady moved behind the bar and grabbed a glass.
Grady was an excellent liar in most situations, but he always hesitated at lying to family—especially Ty, Noah and Vanessa.
But this was important and bigger than him. “Some out-of-towner. She said she came in looking for a little Wild West charm.”
“Is that a euphemism?” Ty asked with a grin.
Grady filled the glass with Coke and tried not to scowl. “Guess we’ll find out,” he muttered and headed back for Laurel and her stupid disguise.
Everything about the situation grated. The fact his hands were tied. The fact she was the one sitting there in a blond wig. So, he did what he always did when she irritated him.
“You make a hot blonde.”
She glared at him. “Did you know that at a restaurant or bar, you don’t have to tip the proprietor?”
“Says who?”
“The law,” she returned, giving him a haughty look before glancing over at Hank’s table.
He should let her be. Let her eavesdrop. Let her do her job, but he slid into the seat opposite her instead. When she didn’t object or even send him a nasty glare, he decided he’d do her a favor in return by not asking her how she came upon a wig and clothes that actually fit.
She grabbed the sparkly purse that looked about as much like Laurel as the curly blond hair. Everything about her right now was the opposite of Laurel, and it was a little annoying to find he rather preferred her to be her.
She scribbled something on a piece of paper and casually slid it over the surface of the table toward him.
He flipped over the paper and read the question in her neatly printed letters. Who are the others at the table?
He wanted to make a quip about her needing his help, and he doubted the table of three men next to them would notice, but he could be subtle. He wrote down the names of the men Hank was sitting with and returned the paper to her.
She read the names quickly, then slipped the paper into her sparkly handbag. She daintily sipped her Coke and studiously ignored him.
“Most female strangers who come into my bar flirt with me.” He flashed a grin.
She rolled her eyes so far back in her head it must’ve hurt.
“Of course, you don’t strike me as the type of person who knows how to flirt.”
She curled her lip at him, as he’d hoped, but she didn’t snipe back. Merely straightened in her chair.
Grady couldn’t help the fact his gaze drifted to the hint of cleavage, and the whole outfit, really. Laurel Delaney actually had a body under there, and he couldn’t even be surprised because the baggy clothes and fierce appearance no doubt served her in her job. And, unfortunately for her, in a small town you didn’t get to be someone else once you clocked out of your job. Laurel Delaney always had to be Deputy Delaney, or risk a lot of things.
Why did he have to understand this infernal woman?
The table next to them laughed uproariously, but as Grady glanced over just like Laurel did, he imagined she saw the same thing.
The two men at the table with Hank were laughing, but Hank wasn’t. He was staring down the bottom of his drink. Abruptly, he pushed out of his chair. “Going to grab a smoke,” he grumbled to his jovial companions.
Hank wasn’t even three steps toward the door before Laurel was picking up her purse. Luckily Grady was paying enough attention he could grab her hand before she got up. “Don’t you think about it.”
She glared at his hand on hers. “Don’t you even think about telling me what to do.”
“What do you think you’re going to do after you follow him?” He leaned forward so that no one could hear them, though no one was paying any attention. “Ask for a cigarette? Smoke one? You?”
She jerked her hand out of his grasp. “If that’s what it takes. Don’t follow me or I will be forced to arrest you for getting in the way of a criminal investigation.”
“I don’t think that’s legal, princess.”
“I don’t think I care. Stay here.”
He could’ve grabbed her again. He could do a lot of things. But the fact he needed to get through his thick skull was that Laurel was a cop. She was investigating an actual murder case, and he didn’t have any claim to sit here and tell her what to do.
If she wanted to be stupid and go have a smoke with Hank, as if that would get her any information, well, that was her prerogative.
She stood and walked out the same way Hank had. Grady scowled as he watched her go, her hips swaying mesmerizingly in the tight denim.
Which was really unfair, all things considered.
He’d give her ten minutes. Tops. And then he was going after her.
Chapter Seven
Laurel pushed through the swinging door and walked out of Rightful Claim with her heart beating a little too hard in her chest.
It had rattled her that Grady had seen through her disguise so quickly. But she’d grown up with Grady. She’d only met Hank Gaskill once in passing. Granted, it had been this morning, but why would he expect the blonde in a bar to be the brunette in Jason’s office he’d talked to for five seconds?
She inhaled and exhaled, slowly walking toward where he leaned against the corner of the building, lighting a cigarette. He took a long drag and Laurel steeled herself to approach him.
“I don’t suppose I could borrow a cigarette?” she asked, making her voice a little breathless and then berating herself for it. Over-the-top was suspicious.
“How can you borrow a cigarette? Plan on giving it back once you smoked it?”
Laurel couldn’t tell if his response was snarky or flirty. That was always the trouble. While she could read murderous intentions or abusive husbands or drug addicts, she really wasn’t very good at reading the opposite sex’s reaction to her. There were always too many mixed messages and ulterior motives and it just didn’t make any sense.
But she was on a job, playing a part. She wasn’t Laurel Delaney. She was someone else entirely. So, she smiled as sweetly as she knew how. “Truth be told, I’d just like a puff of one. I quit a few years ago and I have just had the worst day.”
“Well, this is the bad day corner,” Hank replied and held his lit cigarette toward her.
Luckily, Laurel had seen enough bad movies to know you didn’t take a deep inhale of a cigarette when she’d never smoked a day in her life. She put her mouth to the cigarette for a second and then pulled it away, pretending to sigh heavily as if it was a great relief.