Sweeter Than Sin

by Shiloh Walker

  “It was a guy thing, he’d always tell me. Sometimes I think he hated that I wasn’t a boy, because he couldn’t bring me into his little club,” she said, her mouth twisting in an ugly snarl. “And I hated that I couldn’t do it. Dad never spent much time with me and I never could understand it. I loved to hunt, fish. But did he ever take me hunting? Fishing? No. I learned it on my own. Mom never did get it. One year, for Christmas, there was a bow and arrow and I was so excited—I thought they finally got it. Turns out the bow and arrow set was from her folks. They got me better than my own parents did. Dad … he was never there. He spent so much time with that fucking club.”

  She dropped the butt of her cigarette into the garbage can Adam kept out there for employees and then just stood there, her hands slack, her eyes dead, her face empty. “He ignored me, you know. And focused his energy on them. He just loved helping those boys become men.” Slowly, she lifted her head and stared at Adam. “They called it the Cronus Club.”

  * * *

  “You look familiar.”

  Lana cocked her head and gave the man in front of her a puzzled smile. “Yeah? I get that a lot.” She went to brush around him, heading to the bathroom, since he’d placed his very fine body between her and the side exit.

  She needed to get out that exit door. Something fucked up was going on, but she couldn’t risk catching a lot of attention when she did it. So the bathroom for now, and then she’d disappear after she got away from this guy.

  “You from around here?”

  She pushed the door open and paused, looking back at him. The light fell on his face just right and she realized she knew him. She didn’t know how, but she knew him. He was younger than she was—probably in his late twenties or early thirties, so he would have been just a kid when she disappeared—but that didn’t mean much. Giving him another one of those vague, puzzled smiles, she shook her head. “No. From Chicago. Just passing through.” She kept her answer short and clipped, talking fast. Indiana might not be a southern state, but in a lot of the smaller towns, especially this far south, a lot of people tended to have a slower, lazy drawl. She’d have to make sure she didn’t let that creep back into her voice.

  His eyes were dark and shrewd on her face and he continued to study her. The weight of his gaze lingered on her as she disappeared through the bathroom door. Just before the door swung shut behind her, she heard somebody shout and the name had her wincing inwardly. “Hey, Tate!”

  Shit.

  Tate.

  Was that Tate Bell?

  Knowing her luck? It was entirely possible.

  The age would be about right. The kid she’d babysat had been around nine or ten, she thought. Locking herself in a stall, she sighed.

  She had shit luck.

  That much was certain.

  Shit luck.

  The door swung open and a couple of women entered, their voices a fast, excited buzz.

  “—you hear what Rita was saying? I couldn’t hear for shit.”

  “I don’t know. They were outside talking, then went into his office—”

  Lana grimaced and moved over to the toilet so nobody came banging on the door, but it didn’t seem like they were in there to use the bathroom any more than she was.

  “Jensen’s in there. She just showed up here with her brother and sister. Isn’t she the one handling most of these abuse cases?”

  “Abuse?” The second woman snorted. “This is more than abuse. Those boys were raped, for years. You don’t think Rita’s daddy was involved, do you? I mean, Harlan Troyer is like … hell, he’s in his sixties. He’s on the volunteer committee at the Methodist church and everything.”

  Blood started to pulse through Lana’s head, roaring in her ears. Harlan. Harlan Troyer.

  The articles she’d followed over the past few weeks started to flash through her mind and she recalled, in detail, everything she’d read.

  Jensen. That would be Jensen Bell.

  She was the cop in charge of the investigation. And, incidentally, Tate’s sister.

  Son of a bitch.

  She had to get out of there.

  The nausea grew, and grew, the guilt and misery taking huge bites out of her as she listened.

  One of the women, her voice soft but full of disgust, said, “As long as this has probably been going on, can you believe nobody spoke up?”

  Just one more nail in her own personal coffin, Lana thought dully, staring at the wall in front of her.

  * * *

  “It’s best if you don’t come back.”

  She stared at the blood that stained the clothes. She didn’t remember. None of it. “I can’t just leave. I have to make sure it stops.”

  “That will be taken care of, but you can’t stay here any longer, and if you’re here everything just gets worse.”

  Worse? She didn’t see how that was possible.

  “Does he think I should?”

  Kind eyes watched her. “Who do you think is the one telling you to leave?” A neat stack of clothes was placed beside her. “There’s another set of clothes. Money. It will last awhile if you’re careful. You have to go. Now. But away from here. If you go back to town, you’ll be arrested.”

  Her belly cramped. Arrested. Dazed, she shook her head. “I don’t understand. Where’s David? I want to talk to David.”

  * * *

  She shoved the memories back, strapped down the guilt and pasted a blank expression on her face.

  Lana had hid behind that blank mask for years.

  She couldn’t afford to let it slip now.

  As she’d moved onto the sidewalk, she’d seen the unmarked cop car.

  There was somebody sitting inside the car, too, so if Jensen Bell was in Adam’s office that meant she’d put in a call for the unmarked.

  Who knew what was going on inside Adam’s office?

  He was back behind the bar and hadn’t even glanced at Lana as she came out of the restroom, casually placed herself behind a group of three other women. Before she slipped out the back, she lingered a moment, saw the way his gaze kept straying to the back hall. Watching. Waiting.

  With nerves dancing along her spine, Lana kept her pace unhurried and sauntered down Main Street like she hadn’t a care in the world.

  Tate had still been in Shakers when she left. Nobody seemed to notice her at all. She planned on keeping it that way. If anybody stopped her, she planned on lying through her teeth and saying she was staying at the inn just off Main. If anybody asked why, she’d elaborate further and say she was a journalist from a Webzine and her editor wanted some pictures of the town and a write-up on Madison and the weird shit going on. Then she’d get all nosy and intrusive.

  It wouldn’t endear her to people, but she’d already seen a van from a news channel in Louisville. Madison had turned into a treasure trove of secrets and no doubt the media would trip over themselves to find the next story.

  If she had to stay hidden in plain sight while she figured out her next step, so be it.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Jensen was still locked in Adam’s office with Rita. He’d known she’d show up—the Bells had a regular table here on Friday nights and had for years. It was just a matter of getting Rita to talk to Jensen. But Rita had been more ready than he’d expected.

  The rest of the Bells and their assorted partners were grouped at their table, tense, quiet. Waiting. They waited for Jensen. Adam waited for Rita. And even though he was wasting his time, he was sort of waiting for the woman who’d disappeared into the bathroom.

  He had a feeling she’d already slipped out without him realizing it, though.

  He’d been watching the doors and hadn’t seen her leave.

  She had, though. He’d bet his right nut on it.

  That slow smile continued to tease him.

  Adam wished he could figure out why.

  It wasn’t just because he wanted to taste that mouth.

  He’d kissed more women than he could remember and he had
taken a fair number to bed. If he ever stopped to count just how many, the number would probably leave him a little ashamed inside. Well, if he could find it in him to care. That wasn’t likely to happen. The part of him that could feel shame was twisted up over things that mattered more than the fact that he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.

  Agitated, he wiped the bar down with more force than needed, focused on filling the drink orders and keeping busy. And watching, just to make sure. Another twenty minutes passed before he acknowledged the fact that she had most definitely left.

  It was another thirty minutes before he caught sight of Rita and Jensen in the hallway.

  Rita joined him behind the bar, her face pale, but her hands were steady as she tied her apron back on.

  “You want to head on home?” he asked, taking a tray of empties from Katie. They were past the busiest point of the evening, and even if they weren’t, Rita’s night had to suck.

  “No.” She gave him a wan smile. “Home is the last thing I need.”

  Her eyes had a haunted look.

  Under his lashes he caught the sidelong looks coming their way, and he sighed. “You certain this is what you need tonight, sweetheart?”

  A sad laugh escaped her.

  “No. But being alone isn’t the answer, either.”

  * * *

  Two lousy hours passed before last call.

  Shakers was almost empty, just a few stragglers here and there, and they left within a few minutes. As Adam locked up behind them, he wanted nothing more than to go home and just crash.

  Not an option, though. Yet.

  A headache pulsed behind his eyes, and as he took care of the cleanup his hands practically shook with the need for a drink.

  It was nights like this when he knew he was a glutton for punishment.

  An alcoholic who owned a bar was just a man begging for bad things.

  Jaw clenched, he finished up and moved away from the siren call of booze. Money. He could deal with the money and be steady.

  “That was a lot of fun.”

  Rita’s voice was low and throaty—she had the voice of a porn star. Normally, all he had to do was guide his mind in that direction and he could be ready to do all sorts of dirty things with her.

  She didn’t have a memorable face—actually, she did. She had a long face, her mouth just a little too wide, her eyes a little too deep set, and her brow was too heavy. Rita wasn’t particularly attractive, but she was a fucking fire in bed and most nights, when the demons were too strong, he’d be more than happy to let her chase those demons away. And he’d help chase hers away. He had no doubt the demons were going to be bad tonight.

  A hand brushed down his spine and he glanced over as Rita leaned against him, her cheek against his arm. “I don’t know about you, but I really don’t want to be alone with myself tonight, Adam.”

  Guilt twisted inside him.

  He didn’t want to be alone with himself, either.

  But he didn’t want to go home with Rita.

  He was a lousy miserable son of a bitch, too. Alone was the last thing she needed, and he understood that.

  She was an unselfish lover and she gave all of herself in bed, asking nothing. Adam, however, asked for a hell of a lot, gave next to nothing, and sex was just a way to drive the demons from his mind. He didn’t really even enjoy it anymore, but if it blanked out his mind and relaxed his body that was all he needed.

  Rita knew his heart wasn’t involved in anything.

  That made it easier.

  But as her hand rested low on his hip, he felt nothing. Not even the desire to lose himself with her.

  He could bring himself to do it, though.

  She’d had a lousy night.

  She didn’t need to be alone.

  As she slid her hand down and cupped his through his jeans, Adam pressed his mouth to her neck.

  Nothing.

  Rita sighed and her hand fell away.

  “Not tonight, huh?”

  A vise gripped his throat and he reached up, skimmed his palm down her back. “I can come over for a little while. We can watch a movie.” And he lied through his teeth as he bent over and pressed his mouth to her collarbone. “Maybe I’m just tired and you can wake me up.”

  She snorted, the sound full of cynicism and humor. “If you’re that tired, you’re probably close to dead. Nah, I’m probably lousy company anyway. I’ll just go home, get wasted—” Then she grimaced. “Sorry. That’s was stupid of me.”

  “Nah. It’s human. After the day we’ve had, I feel like getting wasted myself. Your day was a lot worse than mine.”

  He eyed the bottles, gleaming like a rainbow behind the counter.

  “Why do you do this?” she asked, her voice quiet. And he knew she knew. She could tell that it was on him again, the urge to reach for one of those bottles.

  One drink … just one …

  Yeah. Right.

  “It’s just what I do.” He shrugged and turned away, finished up behind the bar. “Besides, it’s a reminder.”

  Now that the bar was empty, he could name names, but he didn’t have to.

  Rita had been forced to pry the keys from Geoffrey Potter earlier, a man who’d been a teacher at the school, once upon a time. A good one, too. Now he was lucky that he could hold a job at the Walmart, and if he got caught driving drunk one more time, he’d lose his license.

  Another regular had stumbled out the door earlier. Eddie McKenna. Once Eddie had been so shit faced, he’d walked into the door and busted his head wide open. Old Eddie had started drinking after his wife decided she’d rather be with a lady from her book club. Not just discussing books, either. Only she didn’t want a divorce. She liked the insurance, and since she wasn’t going to marry her new girlfriend, why shouldn’t she stay married? And then she moved her new girlfriend into the house where she lived with Eddie … into the bedroom, while Eddie was moved up into the bedroom they’d once planned to use as a room for the kids they’d never been able to have.

  Eddie didn’t have the balls to just file for divorce on his own, so he drowned his sorrows in the booze.

  Adam understood all about that. He’d spent years drowning his sorrows and he’d have continued to do just that if he hadn’t lost his parents. They wanted him sober. After they’d died in a car wreck, the one thing he could give them was that last wish. So he sobered up—going on fifteen years since he’d had a drink and damn if he still didn’t have to fight it.

  Those who had never had to fight that fight wouldn’t understand. But Adam understood it, all too well. Instead of drowning himself in alcohol, he lost himself in work, in women and in a long, exhausting workout five or six days a week. He worked about sixty hours a week, and if he wasn’t working he was very often running or pummeling a heavy bag … or fucking a woman.

  What little free time he had aside from that was spent in front of a computer where he moderated, anonymously, a board for the kids here in Madison. Those who might, or already did, feel the urge to do the same stupid shit he had. Numb themselves with alcohol. Sometimes he felt like the world’s biggest hypocrite, because if he hadn’t lost his folks, he knew he’d still be burying himself in the bottle at the end of the day. Who was he to tell anybody to stay sober, that life didn’t get any easier behind a haze of alcohol?

  But then something happened.

  He’d made a difference.

  Finally.

  After twenty years of being a miserable fuckup, he’d finally made a difference.

  Yeah, mostly because Blue—

  Blue.

  Blue … that poor kid. Blue had been a hero that night. Too bad nobody had been around to save him. Just how bad things had gotten for Kevin Blue, Adam didn’t know.

  But Glenn Blue, his father, had been arrested. Bail had finally been granted, but after he’d tried to talk to his son it was revoked and Glenn was back in jail. He ought to rot there.

  Him and the rest of the bastards.

  Than
ks to Blue’s quick thinking, two lives had been saved a few weeks earlier and seven monsters were under investigation.

  One was in the ground. Jeb. Monstrous, miserable excuse of a human being. Jeb Simms had worn a badge, pretended he was here to protect the people of this town, and look at what he’d done.

  Then he’d put a bullet through his brain. Too easy, really.

  But at least he was dead, dead and buried, just like the rest of them should be.

  If Adam had his way, they’d all be in the ground.

  “Knowing everything we know anymore…”

  He caught the sad, bitter tone of Rita’s voice and he looked up, forcing his own thoughts back to the present.

  She wasn’t looking at him, though. She stared out the window at the empty street; her slim fingers worried the necklace she wore. “I don’t want to be here, Adam.”

  “Rita, if you need to take time off, just—”

  “No.” She shook her head, and finally she looked over at him. “I don’t mean work. I just mean everything.”

  Her words sent a shiver down his spine. “Rita, come on now.…”

  “No.” She leaned in and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. There’d been a time when that would have sent interest humming through him, even if it was just ingrained, like his body had been trained to react to a female. Now all he wanted to do was study her face, her eyes, make sure she wasn’t planning to do something stupid. She moved away, though, evading him. With a smile, she shrugged. “I’ll be all right, sugar. I’m just morbid these days. Too much going on. The talk with Jensen. Everything I had to tell her about my dad. I’m just depressed, I guess.”

  He closed the distance between them. “You come to me,” he said, reaching up to cup her face. He knew what it was like, to swing so low, it seemed like you’d never climb out of the hole you were in. “You hear me? If things get too rough and you need to talk, you come to me.”

  She reached up and patted his cheek.

  “Sure, Adam.”

  * * *

  Sooner or later, he’d stop worrying about her, he told himself.

  It was nearly three, and Adam had yet to reach that point.