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Slow Ride

Page 25

by Lori Foster


  Ronnie groaned as Ros sat forward. “What’s creepy about a doll?”

  “They’re misprints or something.” Jack gestured to his own cheek. “Faces on the side where an ear should be, a nose traded for an eye. Eyelashes stuck to a tongue.” He gave a mock shudder.

  Yeah, she had to admit, the faces were creepy. Still, Ronnie defended her employers. “Those dolls are some of their most valuable pieces. One’s an antique.”

  “Which explains the security,” Jack said. “A deadbolt on the basement door, and bars on the two casement windows.”

  “They have to protect what’s theirs,” Ronnie stated. The deadbolt was mostly overkill, since the door itself wasn’t that sturdy—and seriously, who would want a screwed-up doll or a wolf shelf? Other than the twins.

  Intrigued, Brodie asked, “So their shit is as weird as Therman’s?”

  “We recently added a two-headed snake and a one-eyed rat to the mix, so you tell me.”

  Brodie’s brows shot up. “Yeah, that’s pretty disgusting.”

  Damn it. Ronnie considered shoving Jack out of his chair. She didn’t want his family to think badly of her by association. “They didn’t kill the poor animals. Some other nut did.”

  Mary choked, which prompted Ronnie to explain the whole sordid thing—and for payback, she embellished Jack’s fire-breathing dragon impersonation that day.

  He groaned.

  She added, “I think he sprouted new hair on his chest, thanks to the flow of testosterone.”

  That had Charlotte and Ros outright laughing, and Mary attempting to pull on his collar to “get a peek.”

  Brodie tugged his wife back to her seat. “Well, I for one am glad the brothers made that purchase. Otherwise you wouldn’t have found our little Peanut.”

  Our Peanut? He said that as if including Ronnie in ownership, but clearly the cat belonged to...well, if not Brodie and Mary, definitely Howler. She leaned around Jack’s chair to see the dog lounging right behind Brodie. Even now, the kitten slept under his floppy jowls.

  “True enough.” Thanks to the job, they’d saved a kitten...and thanks to the brothers’ insistence on hiring a courier, she’d met Jack. She’d like to keep them both, but she was realistic enough to know she wasn’t set up to care for a pet, and someone like Jack wasn’t meant for her, not in the long run.

  “They’re nowhere near as wealthy as Therman.” Jack turned his can of cola, tracing a finger through the condensation there.

  Knowing the magic of those fingers, Ronnie found it horribly distracting. She sat surrounded by his family, so it was an awkward feeling in the extreme.

  “If you saw where they lived,” Jack continued, “you’d wonder where they got the cash for their hobby. I know I did. But Drake told me they’ve inherited estates from not only their grandmother and their parents, but also their only uncle.”

  Charlotte’s eyes widened. “You don’t suppose—?”

  “No.” In this, at least, Ronnie knew her facts. “Their parents died separately, the father in a car accident, the mother with breast cancer. Their grandmother died peacefully in her bed at the age of eighty-nine, and their uncle had a stroke.”

  “Apparently,” Jack continued, “they first got fascinated when they found some bones at a junkyard. They were cutting through the yard on their walk home from school and noticed a hand sticking out—or rather, the remains of a hand.”

  Brodie sat forward as if fascinated, but the women all wrinkled their noses in distaste.

  “When they told their parents, who were still alive at the time, they called the police and it turned out the body was a guy who’d been missing for several months. He’d belonged to a local gang, and a rival gang had killed him.”

  “What nobody knew,” Ronnie added, “was that the brothers had kept a ring they found on that hand.”

  “A black onyx ring shaped like a bear tooth.” Jack rolled a shoulder. “And their interest in oddities was born.”

  The phone rang and Charlotte excused herself to answer. When she returned, she said, “One of you has to help Mrs. Gershlick tomorrow. There’s a poodle she needs picked up from Chicago. The owner passed away and she’s promised to find it a forever home.”

  “I can do it,” Brodie offered, “unless Therman has me set up for anything else?”

  “He doesn’t,” Charlotte confirmed. “But you just got home, so I wasn’t sure if you’d want a break between travel.”

  “Thanks, hon, but it’s not a problem. Consider it done.”

  Jack gave him a nod of gratitude.

  It didn’t escape Ronnie’s notice that Charlotte practically ran the office on her own, answering phones, filing papers, and setting appointments with impressive ease. What Ronnie really liked, though, was the way both Jack and Brodie always showed their appreciation. Anyone could see that Charlotte was part of the family, but they didn’t take advantage of that relationship.

  Every day she found a new reason to admire Jack.

  And speak of the devil... Jack rose from his seat. As he said, “We have to get going,” he shared a look with Brodie. “We have a pickup.”

  Brodie gave a barely perceptible nod.

  Ronnie looked between the two men. “What was that?”

  “What?” they said together.

  No, she wasn’t buying the naive expressions. “That little nod and knowing look.” She mimicked it in an exaggerated way, making Mary snicker. “What are you two up to?”

  Charlotte paused on her way to the file room. “It’s their secret code, meaning they’ll be working together but they don’t want to upset the little ladies with their concerns.” She showed what she thought of that with a roll of her eyes.

  “Brat,” Brodie accused, without sounding too irritated.

  “Chauvinist,” she shot back, before blowing him a kiss.

  Mary and Ronnie weren’t amused—until Jack said, “Actually, I didn’t want to worry my mother.”

  Ros’s eyes went wide. “Too late for that.” She, too, stood, arms crossed, expression stern. “So what’s going on?”

  Brodie scrubbed a hand over his face.

  “Brodie Archer Crews...” Ros warned.

  Jack held up both hands.

  Ros turned on him. “Jack Wilson Crews.”

  Ronnie’s jaw dropped. Wilson?

  “I wanted Brodie to be backup,” he admitted. “That’s all.”

  It was Ronnie’s turn to cross her arms. “Backup for what?”

  “You.” At her dark look, he quickly amended, “Us.” With a scowl, he explained, “After everything that’s happened, I’m not trusting the twins. And after our last experience with Marge, I figured it couldn’t hurt to have Brodie close by in case things went south. Again.”

  All of that seemed plausible, if only he’d told her first. “I’ve dealt with Marge plenty of times.”

  “And I take it she didn’t want to molest you. But if you’ll recall, she felt differently about me.”

  Mary and Roz listened in, and even Charlotte paused long enough to poke her head into the office.

  Damn it. He had a point.

  Roz said gently, “I’d really rather not have my son molested.”

  Ronnie wanted to say that she wouldn’t let that happen, except their last visit at the bar had been pretty intense. Short of drawing her knife or gun, she wasn’t sure she could have controlled things. And shooting people wasn’t really something she wanted to do. Not if she could help it. “All right, fine. Let your brother play protector.”

  Jack said, “Thank you,” in that typical, maddeningly polite tone that made her bristle.

  “But from now on, don’t plan stuff behind my back.”

  He nodded. “My apologies.”

  “Well.” Roz beamed a beautiful smile. “I feel better knowing there are levelheaded ladies
keeping my sons in line. Makes a mother’s heart rest easy.”

  * * *

  A WRECK ON the road leading to the bar tied up traffic, making Jack more alert as he continually checked for trouble. It didn’t appear that anyone was badly hurt, but the two cars tangled together, fender and bumper locked, required more time than it should have to clear them out of the way. To Jack, it felt like they were sitting ducks.

  When he noticed Ronnie’s frown, the worry amplified. “You feel it, too, don’t you?”

  Her mouth flattened and her gray eyes darted around. “Something’s off.”

  Good enough for him. He assessed the traffic, looking for a way out.

  Ronnie touched his arm. “Wait. There’s the tow truck now.” Her gaze sought his. “No one would dare try anything here, right?” She gestured at the cop car ahead, at the string of cars behind them.

  “I don’t know.” He only knew that he didn’t like risking her. Not in any way.

  She twisted to look out the rear window. “Brodie is back there?”

  Jack, too, searched behind them. The traffic was such that it took him a minute to spot his brother’s red Mustang. “About ten cars back. Behind a truck.” Close enough if they needed him, even if Brodie had to approach on foot—which he would.

  Either of them would do whatever it took to ensure Ronnie’s safety.

  “Can he see us?” she asked, not out of concern, but as part of her strategy.

  Jack could almost see her brain working as she considered different scenarios, should the unthinkable happen. “I’ll ask.”

  He dialed his brother as he studied the faces of drivers and passengers stuck in their cars. From the center lane, he had people on both sides. Two families with young children, some women alone, a man alone, a trucker. They all looked frustrated, but not threatening.

  Brodie answered with, “I see you. Anything going on?”

  “Not that I can easily spot.” Jack shook his head, the sense of brewing trouble impossible to dismiss. “Both Ronnie and I have a bad feeling about this. Keep your guard up and your doors locked.”

  “Done and done,” Brodie said. “For now, I’ll unleash Howler. I can hook him back to his harness once the jam is cleared.”

  In Brodie’s car, Howler had a custom-made harness that secured him in his seat. He traveled often with Brodie, so it made sense. Whenever anyone else had the dog in their cars, he simply lounged in the small back seat.

  Jack understood that if Howler was leashed, he wouldn’t be able to get free should something go down. Yet if the dog thought Brodie was threatened in any way, he’d injure himself trying. Better to make it easier on him...just in case.

  Ronnie glanced at the time on her phone. “Marge is going to be pissed that we’re late.”

  Marge in a good mood was difficult to deal with. Jack didn’t relish seeing her annoyed.

  “It’s probably nothing, though.” She folded her arms around herself. “I mean, just because we’ve had a string of bad luck with pickups, doesn’t mean every job is a trap.”

  Jack watched the tow truck finally clear the way. “There are a hundred things I admire about you, honey. Your intuition is one of them.” He glanced at her face, which to him was beautiful, and that trim little body that made him wild with lust. “Maybe not the top five, but right up there with attitude and chutzpah.”

  That made her grin. “Good to know. But it appears I got antsy for no reason. The cop is flagging people through.”

  All well and good, Jack thought, as they finally got underway again...except that the edgy awareness didn’t leave him, and he could tell by the way Ronnie held herself, she still sensed it, too.

  Something was wrong. He just didn’t know what.

  They were running a half hour behind when they finally reached the bar.

  And arrived to utter chaos.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  PULLING UP TO the curb opposite from the bar, Jack kept the engine running and looked at the mob overflowing the sidewalk and spilling into the street. “What the hell?”

  Ronnie craned her neck, staring at the crowds of people clustered outside the disreputable bar, many of them gawking, others taking photos. Lights flashed from an ambulance and two police cars.

  Whatever had happened to warrant the display, Jack wanted Ronnie out of there. Now.

  He was backing up, finding room to make a U-turn, when Ronnie said, “Wait.” She rolled down her window.

  “Don’t,” Jack warned, unwilling to take any chance at all.

  But she didn’t lower it far, just enough to shout out, “Higgs!”

  The burly bartender, who’d been standing alone staring at his feet, glanced up. He scanned the crowd and spotted her. Face creased with worry, he started crossing the street and up to where they waited in the running car.

  Jack had to keep reminding himself that the last time they’d visited the bar, Higgs and Ronnie had greeted each other like friends. Plus he knew Brodie was close, watching and waiting.

  As Higgs got nearer, he removed his do-rag, twisting it in his meaty hands. Who knew he had hair? It was there, just as thick and brown as his beard but cropped short as if by shears. He wore no coat in the chilly weather, but Jack saw sweat on the front of his shirt and at his brow.

  Ronnie lowered the window more as he reached them.

  Though he glanced at Jack, it was Ronnie Higgs spoke to. “You can’t come in today, girl. Not today. She’s gone.”

  Red rimmed his faded blue eyes, stark against his waxy skin.

  “Higgs,” Ronnie said softly, recognizing the man’s upset. “What’s happened?”

  “She’s gone, that’s what.”

  “Who?”

  “Marge.” He swallowed heavily. “Throat slit.”

  The shock of those words hung in the air. Jack stiffened. “You’re saying someone murdered her?”

  Again Higgs glanced at Jack, then back to Ronnie. “I found her myself. She’d bitched that you were late and wanted me to tell her soon as you arrived. A customer mentioned the wreck on the highway, so I went in to tell her, and there she was. Throat slit.”

  “Dear God,” Ronnie whispered.

  Jack breathed more heavily. If it hadn’t been for the traffic jam, Ronnie would have been the one to find her.

  Or worse, she might have walked in while the murderer was still there.

  His spine stiffened. What if that was the plan all along?

  Ronnie spared him a glance, her expression telling him that she had the same thought.

  “Cops are questionin’ everyone.” Higgs looked back over his shoulder at the bar, his hands knotting more fiercely in the do-rag. “You don’t want to get pulled into that. Best you just...” He patted the top of the partially opened window. “Just stay away, okay?”

  “Higgs.” She reached up and covered his hand with her own. “Will you please let me know what they find out? And if there’s anything I can do...?”

  “Nothing anyone can do now. She’s gone. Throat slit.”

  Higgs kept saying it, driving it home like verbal punches. Jack wanted to shield Ronnie from this, from the reality of losing...if not a friend, an acquaintance. Someone she’d done business with on more than a few occasions.

  Yet as always, she handled the situation with a cool head, all emotions under wraps as she squeezed Higgs’s fingers. “You need to talk to a doctor. You’ve suffered a shock.”

  The sympathetic understanding seemed to shake him and he gave a guffaw. “Get on, now, before someone asks me who you are.”

  “Wait.” Jack agreed that they needed to go, but he had a few quick questions. “Anyone new at the bar today?”

  Higgs looked away. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told the cops. Customers come and go, some regular, some not. Long as they behave, doesn’t matter enough to me to notic
e.”

  Ronnie tucked in her chin. “Bullshit. I know better than that. Nothing gets past you, Higgs, so who was it?”

  Eyes narrowing and barrel chest puffing out, Higgs asked, “You calling me a liar?”

  Of course Ronnie didn’t back down. “I’m saying you’re hiding something.”

  “Well, what kind of bar would we run if I took to gossip? You know the area, girl. People gotta trust that their business is private.”

  Of all the stupid... Jack asked, “What kind of business do you have left with Marge dead?”

  Higgs’s lips scrunched together.

  “We’re not the police,” Ronnie pointed out. “And Higgs? I’ve had some personal trouble. What if this is related? I was invited here, due thirty minutes ago.” She drew in a deep breath. “What if you next hear that my throat—?”

  “Don’t say it,” Jack barked, unable to bear the words. He glared at Higgs. “If you know anything, fucking tell it.”

  For several intense seconds, he and Higgs stared at each other. In the end, the burly bartender softened toward Ronnie.

  “You won’t talk to the cops?”

  “You have my word,” she promised.

  Jack wasn’t sure that was a good idea. What if Higgs revealed something that indicated Ronnie was at risk? They’d need to talk to police.

  “Him, too,” Higgs said, nodding at Jack. “You I trust, your guy there, not so much.”

  “He works for me,” Ronnie stated. “He won’t say a thing. Isn’t that right, Jack?”

  Well, hell. Jack was divided, but what could he do other than nod agreement? Not a damn thing.

  Higgs’s big beefy hand rubbed the back of his neck. “There was a guy who stood out. Clean-cut. Average height and weight. Not fat, not skinny. You know the type.”

  “Unremarkable,” Jack said, an ominous vision of the man from the hotel materializing in his brain. “Except that you remarked him. Why?”

  “As the girl said, it’s my job to ferret out trouble, and something about him was too slick, too confident. Like he knew something I didn’t. Whenever any of the regulars looked at him, the fucker just smiled back, all serene and shit, you know? That ain’t normal. Not in this neighborhood.”

 

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