Tangled Up in You (9 page)

Steve was the closest thing Mick had to a brother. The two shared the same experiences and visceral memories. Theyd shared a life that civilians did not understand, and their time in the military was something they never talked about in public.

The six ball landed in the corner pocket and Steve lined up the two ball. Meg was in here yesterday looking for you, he said. I guess the whole town is buzzing like a wasp nest because that writer talked to Sheriff Potter and Harriet Landers.

Meg called me about it last night. Steve was the only person Mick had ever spoken to about Megs unpredictable emotional outbursts and mood swings. She isnt as upset about this whole book business as I thought shed be. At least she hadnt freaked out, which was what Mick had expected from the woman whod been known to lose it over the sight of a wedding ring.

Maybe shes stronger than you give her credit for.

Maybe, but Mick doubted it.

Steve shot, but the two hit the corner of the pocket and bounced back. I meant to do that.

Uh-huh. Mick chalked his cue and hit the remaining ten ball into a side pocket.

I better get back behind the bar, Steve said as he placed his cue in the rack. Are you going to be here until close?

No. Mick put his cue next to Steves and looked out over the bar. On weeknights, both Hennessys and Morts closed at midnight. I want to see how the new bartender is doing at Morts.

Hows he working out so far?

A hell of a lot better than the last one. I should have known better than to hire Ronnie Van Damme in the first place. Most of the Van Dammes are worthless. Mick had had to fire Ronnie two weeks ago for always coming in late and standing around jerking his gherkin when he had been there. The new guy used to manage a bar in Boise, so Im hoping he works out. Eventually Micks goal was to find a manager for Morts so he could work less and make more money. He didnt trust government pensions or Social Security to provide for him for the rest of his life and hed made his own investments.

Let me know if you need help, Steve said as he walked away, his limp barely noticeable. Mick hadnt been in Iraq when Steves bird had been shot down, but hed had a few close calls and been forced to make an emergency landing in Afghanistan when a rocket-propelled grenade hit his Apache. The landing hadnt been pretty, but hed survived.

Hed loved flying and it was one of the things he missed most about his former life. But he didnt miss the sand and dust and the politics of army life. Hed take getting fired at over the tedium of sitting around waiting for orders, only to gear up and have the mission scrubbed at the last moment.

These days he lived in a small town where nothing much happened, but he was never bored. Especially lately.

Mick looked out at the empty dance floor at the other end of the bar. On the weekends, he usually hired a band and the floor was packed. Tonight a few people stood around talking, others sat at tables and at the bar. By nine on Hump Nights the bar usually cleared out except for a few stragglers. Growing up, his dad had brought him and Meg to the bar occasionally and let them pour root beer into mugs. He taught them how to pour the perfect head. Looking back, that hadnt been the best thing to teach your kids, but he and Meg had loved it.

Your father may have been a cheater, Maddie had said, but did he deserve to be shot three times and bleed to death on a barroom floor while your mother watched ?

Hed thought more about his father in the past two days than he had in the past five years. If Maddie was right, his mother watched his father die, and he just couldnt get that image out of his head.

He sat on the edge of the pool table and crossed one booted foot over the other as he watched Steve grab a Heineken from the refrigerator and twist off the top. Mick knew that the waitress, Alice Jones, had been killed behind the bar, while his mother and father had both died in front of the bar. Hed never seen photos or read the reports, but throughout the years hed certainly heard enough talk about the night his mother had killed his father and Alice that he thought hed heard it all. Now he guessed he hadnt.

Over the past thirty-five years, hed been in this bar thousands of time. Meg had a photograph of him at the age of three sitting on a barstool with his father. Generations of Hennessys had worked their asses off in the bar, and after his parents deaths, the place had been completely renovated and any trace of what had happened that night had long since been removed. When he walked through the back door, he never thought about what his mother had done to his father and Alice Jones.

Until now.

So your mother was perfectly justified in shooting her in the face , Maddie had said. For some reason, he couldnt get Maddie Dupree and her damn crime book out of his mind. The last thing in the world he wanted to occupy his thoughts was the deaths of his parents. His past was best left buried, and the last person he wanted stuck in his head was the woman responsible for digging it all up again. She was a one-woman backhoe, uncovering things that were best left covered. But short of tying her up and shoving her in a closet, there wasnt anything he could do to stop her. Although tying her up did have a certain appeal that had nothing to do with stopping her from writing.

My God, youre like a tornado. Sucking up everything around you , shed said, and it didnt seem to matter that she was the last person in the world that he should want. The memory of her lips beneath his, and the sight of her looking thoroughly kissed and gasping for breath, were trapped in the center of his brain.

Mick rose from the table and moved past the dance floor toward the bar. Reuben Sawyer sat on his regular stool, looking old and pickled. Reuben had lost his wife thirty years ago, and for the last three decades, hed sat on the same stool almost every night drowning his sorrows. Mick didnt believe in soul mates and didnt understand that kind of sorrow. As far as he was concerned, if youre that lonely for a woman, do something about it that doesnt involve a bottle of Jack Daniels.

Several people called out to Mick as he passed, but he didnt stop. He didnt feel like shooting the shit. Not tonight. As he moved down the hall toward the back door, an old high school girlfriend stopped him.

Hey, Mick, Pam Puckett said as she stepped out of the ladies room.

He supposed pushing past her would have been rude. Hey, Pam. He stopped and she took it as an invitation to wrap her arms around his neck and give him a friendly hug that lingered a few seconds beyond friendly.

Howre you doing? she asked next to his ear.

Good. Since high school, Pam had been married and divorced three times. Mick could have predicted divorce in her future. He pulled back and looked into her face. How about yourself?

Not bad. She dropped onto her heels, but kept one hand on his chest. I havent seen you in here for a while.

Ive been spending a lot of time at the other bar. Pam was still attractive, and he knew that all he had to do was take her by the hand and he could take her home. He kept his palm on her waist, waiting to feel the first pull of interest behind his fly. Are you still working in the sheriff s office?

Yeah. Still dispatching calls. I threaten to quit every other day. Her palm slid up and down his chest.

He had three hours before closing. It wasnt like he had to haul ass to Morts. Hed been with Pam before and they both knew that it was just sex. Just two adults getting together and having a good time. You here by yourself? he asked.

Her hand slid to his waist and she hooked a finger through his belt loop. He should have felt a spark of interest, but he didnt. With a few girlfriends.

Tell me, Mick, do all the women you sleep with know about each other? Sex was probably just what he needed to get Maddie out of his head. It had been a month since hed gotten laid, and all he had to do was take Pams hand and pull her behind him out the back door. You know I dont ever plan on getting married. Right?

Her brows lowered. I think everyone knows that, Mick.

So Ive never lied to you about that.

No.

Once he got Pam naked, hed let her take his mind off other things. Pam didnt like sex long and drawn out. She liked it quick and as many times as a man could get it up, and Mick was in the mood to accommodate her. He brushed his thumb up her ribs and felt a little spark of interest.

I heard about that writer talking to everyone in town, she said and snuffed out his spark.

He really wished she hadnt said that. See ya around. He dropped his hand and took a step back toward the door.

Youre leaving? What she meant was: Youre leaving without me?

Gotta work.

It was still light out when he stepped from the bar and drove toward Morts. He shoved his glasses on the bridge of his nose as a dull ache settled between his eyes. Maddie Dupree was messing with his past, talking to the town about his family, and affecting his sex life. With each passing moment, he felt the growing appeal of tying her up and stashing her someplace.

His stomach growled as he pulled his truck to a stop behind Morts, and instead of walking into the back of his bar, he walked a few doors down to the Willow Creek Brewpub and Restaurant. It was a little after nine and he hadnt eaten since lunch. Small wonder that he had a headache.

The place was practically empty, and the scent of pub wings made him even hungrier as he made his way from the back. He walked to the hostess stand and placed his order to go with a young waitress. The restaurant made the best pastrami on marbled rye and kettle chips in three states. If Mickd had the time, he would have ordered a summer ale. The brewpub made a damn good summer ale.

The inside of the restaurant was decorated with beer posters from around the world, and sitting in a booth beneath a Thirsty Dog Wheat poster was the one woman hed been fantasizing about tying up and tossing in a closet.

A big salad and an open folder sat on the table in front of Maddie Dupree. Shed pulled her hair back from her face and painted her lips a deep red. Her brown eyes looked up as he sat on the bench seat across from her. Youve been busy, he said.

Hello, Mick. She waved a fork toward him. Have a seat.

Her orange sweater was left unbuttoned up the front and she wore it over a white T-shirt. A tight white T-shirt. I hear youve been talking to Bill Potter.

News travels fast. She speared some lettuce and cheese and opened her mouth. Her red lips closed over the tines of the fork and she slowly pulled it back out of her mouth.

Mick pointed to the open folder. Is that my rap sheet?

She watched him as she chewed. No, she said after she swallowed. The sheriff mentioned that you were a pain in the ass, but he didnt mention a rap sheet. She closed the folder and put it on the seat beside her. What did he arrest you for? Vandalism? Urinating in public? Window-peeking?

Smart-ass . Fighting, mostly.

He mentioned a fire. You wouldnt know about that, would you? She took a bite of her salad and washed it down with iced tea.

He smiled. I dont know anything about any fires.

Of course not. She set her fork on her plate, then sat back and folded her arms beneath her large breasts. Her T-shirt was so thin he could clearly see the white outline of her bra.

Did you have a nice chat with Harriet Landers?

She bit the side of her lip to keep from laughing. It was interesting.

Mick sank down on the seat and lowered his brows. The toe of his boot brushed her foot and she tilted her head to one side. Like smooth shiny silk, her hair fell across one shoulder as she looked at him. For several moments she stared into his eyes before she sat up straight and pulled her feet back.

Harriet screwed my grandfather to death in the back of her car, he said. Thats hardly a crime.

She pushed her plate aside and folded her arms on the table. Thats true, but its juicy stuff.

And youre going to write about it.

I hadnt thought to mention your grandfathersill-timed departure. She turned her head a little to one side and looked at him out of the corners of her big brown eyes. But I do need to fill pages with family background.

Uh-huh.

Or I could fill pages with photos.

He sat up, placed his elbows on the table, and leaned forward. You want me to give you photos? Nice happy family Polaroids? Maybe at Christmas or Thanksgiving or the summer we all went to Yellowstone?

She took a drink of her tea, then set it back down. That would be great.

Forget it. I cant be blackmailed.

Its not blackmail. More like both of us getting what we want. And what I really want is to take pictures of the inside of Hennessys.

He leaned even farther across the table and said, How does it feel to want? A waitress set his plastic sack of food on the table and he said without removing his gaze from Maddie, Stay out of my bar.

She leaned toward him until his face was just a few inches from hers. Or?

She was gutsy as hell, and he almost liked that about her. Almost. He stood and reached into his back pocket for his wallet. He tossed a twenty on the table. Ill throw you out on your ass.

Itll be fine. Maddie looked over her shoulder at Adele and opened the door to Morts.

Didnt he say he was going to throw you out on your ass?

Technically, we were talk about Hennessys.

They stepped inside and the door closed behind them. Adele leaned close to Maddie and asked above the noise and the music pouring from the jukebox, Do you think hes going to care about technicalities?

Maddie figured that was pretty much a rhetorical question and her gaze scanned the crowd inside the dimly lit bar, looking for the owner. It was eight-thirty on a Friday night and Morts was once again packed. Shed had no intention of setting foot inside the cowboy bar again until Mick had told her not to. She had to let him know that he didnt intimidate her. He had to know she wasnt afraid of him. She wasnt afraid of anything.

She recognized Darla from the last time shed been in Morts and her neighbor Tanya from the Allegrezzas party. She didnt see Mick and breathed a little easier. She wasnt afraid. She just wanted to get more than three feet inside the bar before he laid eyes on her.

Earlier, shed curled her hair on big rollers that gave it lots of volume and loose curls. She wore more makeup than usual and a white cotton jersey halter dress and sandals with two-inch heels. If she was going to get escorted out, she wanted to look good on the way. She carried her red angora cardigan because she knew that as soon as the clock struck nine she would freeze without it.

The juke pumped out a song about redneck women as Adele and Maddie wove their way through the crowd toward an empty table in the corner. Adele, with her long curls, tight jeans, and save a horse, ride a cowboy shirt, drew her share of attention.

Do you see him? Adele asked as they slid into chairs facing the bar with their backs to the wall.

Theyd gone over the plan. It was simple. Nothing risky: just walk into Morts, have a few drinks, and walk out. Easy, cheesy, lemon squeezy, but now Adele was kind of acting spooked, casting her big-eyed gaze about as if she expected a SWAT team to swoop in, whip out their AK-47s, and force them spread-eagled on the floor.

No. I dont see him yet. Maddie placed her purse on the table by her elbow and looked out at the bar. Light from the jukebox and bar poured over the crowd but hardly penetrated the corner. It was the perfect spot to see without being seen.

Adele leaned her head close to Maddie and asked, What does he look like?

She held up one hand and signaled the waitress. Tall. Dark hair and very blue eyes, she answered. Charming when he wants something, and his kiss could make a woman lose her mind. Maddie thought about the day hed brought her the Mouse Motel, about his kiss and his hands on her waist, and her stomach got a little tight. If the women in the bar start flipping their hair and reaching for a breath mint, youll know hes here.

A waitress with an atrocious perm, butt-tight Wranglers, and a Morts T-shirt took their drink order.

Hes that prime? Adele asked as the waitress walked away.

Maddie nodded. Prime was a fairly accurate description. He was certainly drool-worthy, and there had been a time or two when shed been tempted to bite into him. Like when shed looked up from her salad at the Willow Creek Brewpub and Restaurant and hed been sitting across from her. One moment shed been minding her own business, reading her latest notes from Sheriff Potter, then, poof, there was Mick looking extremely hot and incredibly pissed off. Normally, she wouldnt consider an angry man the least bit hot, but Mick wasnt a normal man. As hed sat across from her, working himself up, warning her to stay out of his bar, his eyes had turned a deep, fascinating blue. And shed found herself wondering what hed do if she climbed across the table and planted her mouth on his. If she kissed his neck and bit him just below his ear.

I talked to Clare today, Adele said and pulled Maddies attention away from the contemplation of Mick. The two friends talked about the upcoming wedding until the waitress returned with Adeles Bitch on Wheels and Maddies extra-dry vodka martini. The waitress might have bad hair, but she was damn fine at her job.

What is up with some of these womens hair? Adele asked as the waitress walked away.

Maddies gaze scanned the crowd and she figured the ratio of bad hair vs. good hair was about fifty-fifty. Ive been trying to figure that out myself. Maddie raised her glass to her lips. Half of them have good hair and the other half are an overprocessed mess. Over the rim of her glass, she continued her surveillance. There was still no sign of Mick.

Did I tell you about the guy I dated last weekend? Adele asked.

No. Maddie put on her sweater and prepared for a dating disaster story.

Well, he picked me up in a souped-up Pinto.

Pinto? Arent those the cars from the seventies that explode?

Yeah. It was bright orange, like a moving target, and he drove like he thought he was Jeff Gordon. Adele pushed several springy curls behind her ears. He even wore those fingerless racing gloves.

You have got to be shitting me. Where did you meet this guy?

At the raceway.

Maddie didnt ask what Adele had been doing at the raceway. She didnt want to know. Tell me you didnt have sex with him.

No. I figure a guy who drove that fast had to do other things fast too. Adele sighed. I think Ive been cursed with bad dates.

Maddie didnt believe in curses, but she couldnt disagree. Adele had the worst luck with men of any woman shed ever known. And Maddie had had a lot of bad luck herself.

An hour and three more bad date stories later, there was still no sign of Mick. Maddie and Adele ordered another drink and she began to wonder if he just might not show up at all.

Hello, ladies.

Maddie glanced up from her martini at the two guys standing in front of her. They were both tall and blond and very tan. The man whod spoken had an Australian accent.

Hello, Adele said and took a sip of her Bitch on Wheels. Adele might have a lot of bad dates, but that was only because she attracted a lot of men. With her golden curls and big aquamarine eyes, Adele seemed to draw men in like bees to a barbeque. Obviously Adeles mojo worked on all nationalities. Behind her glass, Maddie glanced at Adele and laughed.

Would you like to sit down? Adele asked.

They didnt have to be asked twice and slid into the two empty chairs. Mnames Ryan, the guy closest to Maddie introduced himself, flattening his vowels like he was Crocodile Dundee.

She set down her drink. Maddie.

Thats Tom. Hes mmate. He pointed to his friend. Dya live in Truly?

Just moved here. Good Lord, she half expected him to say Gday and Crickey. It was too dark to see the color of his eyes, but he was cute. How about you?

He scooted his chair closer so she could hear him better. Were just here for the summer fightin fires.

Foreign and cute. Are you a smoke jumper?

He nodded and went on to explain that the fire season in Australia was the exact opposite of the season in the U.S. As a result, a lot of Australian smoke jumpers worked in the American West during the summer. The longer he talked, the more fascinated Maddie became, not only by what he said but by the sound of his voice as he said it. And the longer he talked, the more Maddie began to wonder if this wasnt the perfect man for her to fall off the wagon with. He would be in Truly for a short time and then hed leave. He wasnt wearing a wedding ring, but she knew that didnt mean anything. She leaned in a little closer and asked, Are you married? just to make sure. But before he could answer, two hands grasped the backs her arms and lifted her to her feet. She was turned slowly around until her gaze landed on a broad chest in a black Morts T-shirt. Through the dark surrounding them, she recognized the chest even before she raised her gaze up a thick neck, strong chin, and compressed lips. She didnt have to see his eyes clearly to know they burned an angry blue.

Mick leaned close and said next to her ear, What are you doing here?

He smelled like soap and skin. Apparently Im talking to you.

One of his hands slid to hers and grasped her like a hot vice. Lets go.

She grabbed her purse from the table and looked over her shoulder at Ryan, then Adele. Ill be right back, she hollered.

You sound sure about that, said the man hauling her through the crowd toward the back of Morts. Excuse us, she said as she bumped into Darla. He kept a tight grip on her hand as he just kind of moved through the crowd like a linebacker. She was forced to issue a Pardon me and another Excuse us over the music pouring from the juke. They walked past the end of the bar, down a short hall, and he pulled her behind him into a small room.

He closed the door and dropped her hand. I told you to stay out of my bar.

In one quick glance, Maddies gaze took in an oak desk, a coatrack, a big metal safe, and a leather sofa. You were talking about Hennessys at the time.

No. I wasnt. His gaze narrowed and she could practically feel anger rolling off him in waves. Because Im a nice guy, Im going to give you the option of grabbing your friend and walking out the front door.

Once again, she didnt fear his anger. Instead, she almost liked the way it turned his eyes kind of fierce, and she leaned back against the door. Or?

Ill toss you out on your ass.

She tilted her head to the side. Then I should probably warn you that, if you touch me again, I have a Taser and Ill shoot fifty thousand volts in your ass.

He blinked. You pack a Taser?

Among other things.

Again he blinked, kind of slow, like he couldnt believe hed heard her right. What things?

Pepper spray. Brass knuckles. A hundred-and-twenty-five-decibel screecher alarm. Handcuffs and a Kubaton.

Is it even legal to pack a Taser?

Its legal in forty-eight states. This is Idaho. What do you think?

Youre crazy.

She smiled. So Ive been told.

He stared at her for several moments before he asked, Do you make it a habit of running around pissing people off?

She occasionally did make people mad, but she never made a habit of it. No.

Then its just me.

I dont mean to make you mad, Mick.

One dark brow rose up his tan forehead.

Well, I didnt mean to make you mad before tonight. But I kind of have a little problem with being told what I can and cant do.

No shit. He folded his arms across his wide chest. Why do you need all that stuff?

I interview people who arent very nice. She shrugged. Theyre usually in belly chains and leg irons and cuffed to a table when I talk to them, though. Or we talk through Plexiglas. Of course, prisons never let me take in my safety devices, but I always get them back when I leave. I feel safer when Im packing.

He took a step back and his gaze raked her up and down. You look normal. But youre not.

Maddie didnt know whether to take that as a compliment or not. He probably didnt mean it as a compliment, though.

He rocked back on his heels and looked down at her. Were you planning on zapping the blond guy coming on to you in the corner?

Ryan? No, but if he plays his cards right, I might cuff him.

Hes a tool.

If she didnt know better, shed think he was jealous. Do you know him?

I dont have to know him to know hes a tool.

Which made no sense at all. How can you say someones a tool if you dont know him?

Instead of answering, he said, You were practically tongue-kissing him.

Thats ridiculous. I havent made out with a stranger in a bar since college.

Maybe youre tired of being kind of sexually abstinent.

That was an understatement. She was really tired of it, but when she thought of having hot, down-and-dirty, animal sex, she thought of Mick. Ryan was cute, but ultimately he was a stranger in a bar, and she no longer made out or picked up strangers in bars. Dont worry about my celibacy.

His gaze slid to her mouth and lower, down her chin and throat, and got hung up on her breasts. It was past nine, so of course she was cold. Honey, your body isnt made for celibacy. Her hard nipples made two sharp points in the front of her dress. Its made for sex. He raised his gaze to hers. Lots of rough, sweaty sex that lasts all night long and into the next morning.

Normally she might have been tempted to Mace a guy for saying that, but when Mick said it, she felt hot little tugs in her stomach and her body urged her to raise her hand to volunteer for sweaty sex duty. Celibacy is a state of mind.

Which explains why youve gone insane.

Now whos the tool? She adjusted her purse to keep it from falling off her shoulder, but her fingers barely touched the bag before Mick pinned her wrists to the door beside her head.

She looked up into his face an inch above hers. What are you doing?

Im not going to just stand here and let you shoot my ass with fifty thousand volts.

She tried not to smile and failed. I was adjusting my bag on my shoulder.

Call me paranoid, but I dont believe you.

You really thought I was going to zap you? Zapping him had been the furthest thing from her mind.