Читать книгу Chase's Promise - Lois Dyer Faye - Страница 8

C hase stood on his deck, watching the small red car until it turned onto the highway and sped out of sight.

Raine Harper had just knocked his world off its axis. And not only because a possible clue had surfaced in a fifteen-year-old mystery.

He hadn’t lied to her—he didn’t take cases for locals. He wanted nothing to do with Wolf Creek residents. He’d sworn long ago to focus on the present and let the past lie undisturbed—that included Mike’s death and the local jury that held him responsible. Raine, however, was the exception.

She was the last woman he’d expected to see when he looked up from the hot metal taking shape under his hammer and saw a female form silhouetted by the sunlight. Then she’d stepped inside the workroom and he could see her clearly.

He’d recognized her with one glance.

That brief moment when they’d collided in the Saloon weeks ago was seared in his memory. He’d looked down into startled grey eyes and pink lips parted in surprise. For a second, their bodies were pressed together from chest to thigh. Those eyes, her mouth, creamy skin, mahogany hair and the feel of her curves against him had featured prominently in his dreams ever since.

He hadn’t decided what, if anything, he wanted to do about her. Given their family history, he’d doubted she’d be willing to share casual conversation with him, let alone consider the kind of relationship that ended up with the two of them getting naked.

He had a strict rule against getting involved with anyone hiring his services. He’d never broken it in all his years as a bounty hunter.

Agreeing to search for her brother made Raine his client. He hoped to hell he’d be able to keep his distance until he’d located her brother and had a look at the mysterious letter.

For the first time in his life, Chase wasn’t confident his control was unshakable.

Several hours later, Chase tossed a small duffel bag packed with essentials onto the floor behind the SUV’s driver’s seat, whistling a brief melodic tune. Three-year-old-Killer, a ninety-eight pound Rottweiler, immediately ceased sniffing the grass by the house gate and trotted forward. He leaped easily into the backseat and Chase slammed the door behind him before sliding behind the wheel.

The late-afternoon sun heated the interior of the black four-wheel-drive vehicle but Chase didn’t turn on the air-conditioning, choosing instead to lower all the windows. Killer stuck his head outside, eyes half-closed as the hot wind pinned his ears back.

Chase drove by instinct, his mind occupied with the possible angles presented by the mysterious letter sent to Trey Harper just before he’d disappeared.

There were only three people who knew what really happened the night Mike Harper died. Chase was one of them. The other two were Lonnie and Harlan Kerrigan. One of them must have sent the letter to Raine’s brother. But which one? And why?

Chase was convinced neither Harlan nor Lonnie would come forward and confess which meant he had to consider a third possibility. Could someone else have been present at the accident scene fifteen years earlier?

He remembered the sequence of events leading up to the crash on the highway outside Wolf Creek clearly. But he’d been thrown from the truck on impact, hit his head, and lost consciousness. Could another vehicle have arrived on the scene while he’d been comatose? Could a fourth person have seen Harlan remove Lonnie from the driver’s seat and put Chase behind the wheel?

The unlikely scenario was easier to accept than the equally unlikely possibility that one of the Kerrigans had suddenly become conscience-stricken and had decided to confess after all these years.

Chase reached Wolf Creek and pulled into the alley behind the Saloon, parking several yards from the back door. Leaving Killer on guard in the SUV, he went inside. A stairwell rose to his immediate right and he moved silently up the steps to the second floor where two doors, directly opposite each other, opened off the carpeted landing. He knocked on 2B and waited, rewarded moments later by the snick of a dead bolt as it slid free.

Raine stood in the doorway. Chase stilled, rocked by the sudden urge to reach out, catch her narrow waist and draw her close. He felt an intense, nearly compulsive desire to bury his face against the thick mahogany fall of hair, wind the long strands around his fists and run his tongue over the lush fullness of her lower lip to discover the taste of her mouth.

He never broke his strict rule against romantic involvement with a client, no matter how beautiful. Raine Harper was off-limits.

He made his response as impersonal as possible. “Evening.”

“Come in,” she said, her gray eyes meeting his. “Is something wrong?”

“Not that I know of, why?”

“I’m not sure,” she said slowly. “For a moment there, you seemed angry.”

He shrugged and didn’t answer her.

“Well…” She gestured him inside. “I’m just printing out a digital photo and the details about Trey you wanted.”

Chase stepped past her and into the apartment. Raine went over to a desk tucked beneath a window to their left. As she moved past him, the subtle scent of her perfume reached his nostrils and he tensed, edgy and restless until she was beyond his reach.

He glanced around the apartment. Nearly half of the square footage was open space with high ceilings and polished wood floors. A kitchen took up one corner, separated from the great room by a bar with four stools. Shining copper pans hung from a rack above the stove.

Everything he’d heard about the two surviving members of the Harper family indicated that Raine and Trey were successful businesspeople. They owned the Saloon with its adjoining restaurant, the motel on the edge of town and a small apartment building a few blocks away.

Which left very little time for cooking, he thought.

The soft click and whir of a computer printer was the only sound in the quiet apartment. “Nearly finished, only one more page to go. It took longer than I’d hoped to find the information you wanted. I’m not used to Trey’s computer programs.”

“This is your brother’s apartment?”

“Yes. He likes the convenience of living above the business—says he spends so much time at work it’s a waste of time to keep a home somewhere else.” She had her back to him as she leaned forward to slip the last sheet from the printer and paper-clipped it together with several others. “I didn’t ask you how much you charge for your services.”

She looked over her shoulder at him.

Her eyes widened when Chase quoted his daily fee. “Plus expenses,” he added.

She stared at him for a moment before nodding and turning back to the desk.

She barely flinched, he thought, which confirmed his earlier guess that the family businesses were doing well.

Chase’s gaze flicked idly over the room. A medium-size duffel bag, bulging with its contents, sat on the floor next to the door. A woman’s purse sat beside it.

“Going somewhere?”

“Yes.”

The timing was too coincidental. Chase instinctively knew the answer but he asked the question anyway, hoping he was wrong. “Mind if I ask you where?”

“Not at all. I’m going with you. Or I’m following you, take your pick.”

“This isn’t a pleasure trip. It’s business and I work alone.”

“You need me.” Her voice as stubborn as the set of her chin, she turned to him in profile as she slipped the sheaf of papers into a file folder.

“For what?” He didn’t bother hiding the sarcasm in his response.

“Psychic connections between twins have been documented and scientifically accepted. If Trey is near, I’ll feel him. Without me, you could walk within three feet of him and never know it.”

“And if he’s dead?”

A shudder shook her slim body before she visibly collected herself. “He isn’t. I would have felt him leave me.”

Chase didn’t believe her but it didn’t take a genius to see she was fully convinced she was right. Nevertheless, he’d signed on to locate her missing brother; it wasn’t his job to make her face reality. Unless I have to tell her I’ve found a dead body, he thought grimly. “It sounds like a lot of psychobabble to me but I’ve heard stranger things.” He shrugged and held out his hand. “I’ll take the photos and any information you’ve got on your brother.”

Raine handed him the folder and he flipped through it, scanning the pages.

“Looks like enough to start with.” He went toward the door.

“Are you going to let me ride with you? Or are you going to insist I drive my own car?”

He looked back at her. “You can come with me.” Her taut expression eased. “Don’t think it’s because I want you along or agree your help is necessary,” he said bluntly. “I’m saying yes because I figure it’s the quickest way to convince you to stay home and let me get on with my job. Clients generally believe hunting people is either easy or exciting—it isn’t. It’s mostly boring, repetitive work with endless knocking on doors and conversations that lead to dead ends.”

She flushed and nodded, her eyes snapping with anger, her lips set tightly.

Chase guessed her pretty mouth was clamped shut to keep from telling him exactly where he could put his ultimatums but he didn’t care. He’d long ago run out of the patience required to deal with civilians who believed the television version of “bounty hunting.” He was good at his job, and sometimes it was exciting and definitely dangerous. Most of the time, though, it required methodical, patient sifting of information.

She’ll be bored and heading for home within forty-eight hours, he thought.

Raine snatched up her bag and purse and followed him out of the apartment, pausing to lock the dead bolt. He couldn’t have been clearer about not wanting me with him. She wondered if he’d go out of his way to be difficult and steeled herself for an unpleasant drive. If she was lucky, she thought, they’d learn something definitive in Billings and she wouldn’t have to be in his company for more than the evening.

Chase had already disappeared into the alley when she reached the bottom of the stairs. A black SUV was parked a few feet away, the tinted windows adding a secretive air to its sleek appearance.

“Give me your bag. I’ll put it in the back.”

Raine jumped. Chase moved so quickly she hadn’t heard him approach. He took the duffel from her and opened the passenger door, waving her in. Raine slipped into the seat and twisted to fasten her seat belt while Chase walked around the back of the vehicle.

Someone breathed loudly in her ear, the sound faintly threatening. Raine glanced over her shoulder and directly into the face of a huge black dog. She froze, afraid to move. His mouth was open, red tongue lolling, and his white incisors appeared razor sharp.

“Killer. Down.” Chase’s voice was calm, commanding.

The big dog sat back on his haunches, giving a low growl as Chase tossed Raine’s duffel on the floor at his feet. Seconds later, Chase slid behind the wheel next to Raine. The engine turned over with a throaty roar and he drove out of the alleyway.

Raine took measured breaths to slow her racing heart.

“He’s…big, isn’t he?”

She felt the scrutiny of Chase’s gaze as he looked briefly at her before returning his attention to the highway. “Not so big for a Rottweiler. He weighs around a hundred pounds.”

Raine felt her eyes widen but she didn’t comment. The dog was within twenty pounds of her own weight. She hoped he wasn’t easily provoked. “Is that why you named him Killer?”

“Not me—Dad named him ‘Killer’ after Jerry Lee Lewis, a badass fifties rock ’n’ roll singer. My parents have a male Rottweiler—Killer’s one of his offspring. The elderly neighbor that raised Killer from a pup died last month and Dad took him back.”

“How did he end up living with you?” Raine was fascinated by the small window into the lives of the McCloud family.

“His choice—not mine. I had dinner with my folks a few days after Dad picked him up and Killer jumped into my truck bed. He wouldn’t get out so I took him home with me. He’s been there ever since.”

“He adopted you?”

Chase shrugged. “Apparently.”

“Brave dog,” she commented.

“Not really. Have you seen the size of his jaws and teeth?” Chase said dryly. “I’m not about to tell him he has to go back to Dad’s.”

His wry humor caught Raine off guard, startling her into laughter.

Chase glanced sideways at her. “Tell me about your brother.” He switched off the radio, cutting off Mick Jagger in midlyric. The silence that filled the vehicle was suddenly loaded with intimacy.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything you can tell me. The more I know about him, the easier it will be to second-guess his actions. Start with his work schedule. You said he lives above the Saloon because of the long hours he works. Did he have any trouble with a customer lately that was out of the ordinary?”

“Not that I know of.” Raine paused, mentally considering her conversations with Trey over the last weeks before he disappeared. She couldn’t think of any comments he’d made about customer interaction that went beyond the usual complaints. “Most of the clientele in the Saloon and restaurant are regulars and local. Every now and then someone starts a fight but Trey hadn’t mentioned any specific problems.”

“Exactly what does he do at work?”

“Everything—he’s completely in charge of managing the Saloon and I’m responsible for the restaurant, although we substitute for each other if needed. Trey fills in behind the bar on occasion, deals with the Liquor Board, acts as bouncer if anyone gets too rowdy, hires and fires employees—everything required of the owner.”

“Has he fired anyone recently?”

Raine shook her head. “No.”

“What about at the restaurant? Any disgruntled ex-employees holding a grudge?”

“Not that I’m aware of. We’re a family-run business in a small town, which means most of our employees have been with us for a long time. There’s always some turnover during the year but we haven’t fired or hired anyone for months.” She paused, trying to remember any incident with an unhappy employee. “I can’t recall any recent problems with employees beyond the usual small issues like scheduling or pay raises.”

“What about his personal life? Any girlfriends with unhappy ex-boyfriends?”

“If there are, I haven’t heard about it. Trey has a lot of women friends but as far as I know, he’s never been serious about any one of them.”

“Maybe one of them wanted more than friendship.”

“Maybe.” Raine searched Chase’s profile but couldn’t read his thoughts. “Do you think Trey’s disappearance is connected to his personal life in some way and not to whoever wrote the letter?”

Chase shrugged. “I’m giving equal weight to any theory. When someone goes missing, it’s often connected to a personal issue.”

He continued to ask questions about Trey. The time seemed to fly and Raine was surprised when the lights of Billings appeared. Chase drove down a side street and angled the SUV into a parking slot a half block away from the neon sign spelling out Bull ’n’ Bash.

Raine looked up and down the street, noting the rough neighborhood. “Charming place,” she said dryly.

“Oh, yeah.” Chase leaned sideways and opened the glove compartment.

His shoulder pressed briefly against hers and the space was suddenly too small. Raine sucked in a breath and pressed her spine against the seat in a vain effort to distance herself but it wasn’t enough. Her lungs filled with the faint scent of aftershave and soap and she felt vaguely threatened by his size and sheer presence, though he didn’t say a word or look at her.

He removed a handgun from the compartment and shifted back into the driver’s seat.

Unnerved, Raine watched as he checked it efficiently, then tucked it into a shoulder holster beneath his denim Levi’s jacket.

“Do you expect trouble?”

He glanced at her and she felt that electric shiver of wary awareness once more. “I always expect trouble.” He got out.

Raine unlatched her seat belt and followed him, determined not to be left behind.

“Stay, Killer. Watch.” The murmured words reached Raine clearly before Chase stepped up on the curb. He waited for Raine to join him then led the way to the bar’s entryway, where he stopped her with a hand on her forearm.

“You can go inside with me on two conditions.”

“What are they?”

“I do all the talking. You’re an observer, nothing more.”

Her first response was to refuse. She wanted to ask questions—someone inside might have seen Trey. If they were going to find a clue that would lead them to him, this might be their best, maybe their only, chance. But Chase was the expert in this search and she didn’t want to hamper any progress he might make. She nodded reluctantly. “Agreed. What’s the second condition?”

“You stick to me like glue. While we’re in there—” he pointed to the Bull ’n’ Bash “—you pretend you belong to me. I’ve been here before—this isn’t the local Saloon in Wolf Creek where everyone knows you and they’re all your friends.”

“I’m not completely naive. I’ve been in a few rough bars before.”

“Then you know what could happen if the men think you’re available. I don’t want to waste time cracking some cowboy’s skull because he takes a fancy to you and won’t let go.”

Raine stepped over the threshold. She hadn’t lied to Chase. She’d been inside rough places with Trey when he’d considered expanding the family bar ownership to outlying towns. The Bull ’n’ Bash was seedier than others she’d seen, but the landscape was familiar.

The jukebox on her left was playing Johnny Cash’s “Walk the Line” and the crack of cue sticks against pool balls in the back of the low ceilinged room was barely audible over the heavy bass in the music. Cheap hanging lanterns gave off low-wattage light, dimly illuminating the big room with its round tables and battered wooden chairs. Several booths lined one wall and a long bar boasted worn red vinyl stools, nearly all of them occupied by cowboys of various ages and sizes.

“Let’s find a booth.” Chase slung his arm around her and they threaded their way around tables.

She felt surrounded by him, his arm heavy across her shoulders, his hip and muscled thigh brushing against hers as they walked. Her body felt charged with awareness and she was relieved when they reached the booth so that she could slip out from under his arm and drop onto the bench. Instead of taking the bench opposite the scarred tabletop, Chase sat down beside her, his shoulder nudging hers. Quickly, she slid along the seat into the corner. He followed her.

“What are you doing?” she hissed, taken aback at the press of his arm and the length of his thigh against hers.

He bent his head, his lips brushing against her ear. “Marking you.”

Incensed, Raine met his gaze. His blue eyes were impassive, watchful. Determined not to let him see he’d shaken her composure, she merely nodded. “Of course. I should have realized.”

His mouth quirked and amusement lit his eyes for a brief moment. Then he looked away from her and lifted his hand to beckon the waitress.

The strawberry blonde who answered his gesture carried an empty tray and wore skintight jeans, her curly mass of red-gold hair brushing the straps of her bright pink halter top.

“Hi, honey, what can I get you?”

“A couple of longnecks.” Chase’s voice was a lazy, sexy drawl.

Raine realized with a start that he was smiling at the waitress. The smile changed his features from handsome to drop-dead sexy. The waitress clearly thought so, too. Her eyes lit and she bent forward slightly, allowing the neckline of her low-cut knit top to fall forward.

“Is that all you need, honey?”

Her suggestive question had Raine bristling. The surprising reaction was unexpected, unwelcome and annoying. Neither the waitress nor Chase appeared to remember she was present and the rudeness irked her.

“For the moment.”

The blonde gave him a knowing smile and sashayed her way back to the bar.

“What was that all about?” Raine whispered.

Chase turned his head to look at Raine. His expression held none of the seductive teasing he’d shown the waitress. “It’s about being nice to the employees. If Trey was in here on a Friday night, she wouldn’t have missed him.”

“Assuming she was working that Friday.”

Chase nodded. “A pretty safe assumption since Friday and Saturday nights are the busiest nights in a bar. There’s a good chance she worked the weekend shift, don’t you think?”

“True.” Raine knew the Saloon’s employees worked at full staff on Friday and Saturday nights. “Good call,” she conceded reluctantly.

The waitress came back with two frosty bottles of beer.

“Here you go,” she said.

Chase handed her a twenty-dollar bill. “Keep the change.”

“Thanks.” She tucked the bill into the pocket of her skintight jeans.

“There is something you might help with,” Chase said, returning her smile.

“What’s that?” The pure speculation in her voice clearly said she was hoping for a more personal request.

Chase reached into his inside jacket pocket and drew out the photo of Trey. “I’m looking for a friend of mine. He was in here on a Friday night a couple of weeks ago.”

The blonde took the photo, studied it, then held it out to Chase. “No, haven’t seen him.”

“Are you sure? Take another look.”

She stared at the photo once again, a frown growing between her brows. Then she shook her head. “Sorry, mister. I told the cops the same thing when they asked about him a week or so ago. I’ve never seen this guy before.”

“Were you working that night?” Chase took the photo from her outstretched hand, tucking it back inside his jacket pocket.

“I work every Friday night, Saturday, too. Tips are better on the weekend.”

“Who else works weekends? Any chance one of the other waitresses waited on him and you didn’t see him?”

The blonde laughed, a throaty chortle. “Mister, there’s no chance I’d have missed him.” She gestured at Chase’s jacket, where the photo lay hidden. “Most of our customers are regulars. Your friend is fine-looking—I’d definitely remember him if he’d come in. He wasn’t here on a Friday night. In fact, I don’t think he’s ever been in here, at least not when I’ve been working and I work six shifts a week.”

“Then I guess I must have misunderstood—maybe he told me he was at another bar in Billings. Are there two bars in town with the same name?”

“No.” She shook her head. “There’s only one Bull ’n’ Bash and God knows, one’s enough.” The bartender roared her name and she glanced over her shoulder. “Gotta get back to work. Let me know if you have any more…questions.” She winked at Chase, ignored Raine and strutted away across the room.

Chase lifted his bottle and drank, his gaze sweeping the room and its occupants. Beside him, Raine swiveled her bottle in a slow circle on the tabletop, her fingers trembling.

“He wasn’t here.” She felt numb with disappointment, only now realizing how desperately she’d been counting on Chase uncovering a lead tonight. “The police said they couldn’t find any evidence he’d been in Billings that night but I didn’t believe it. I was so sure he must have met the letter writer here and left with him.”

“Before we check this place off our list, I’m going to show Trey’s picture to a few more people.” Chase slid out of the booth. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He strolled across the room and joined the group of men leaning against the wall to watch the pool shooters. Raine saw him exchange words with a cowboy on his left, then he showed him Trey’s photo.

She took a sip of beer, swallowed and shuddered. She didn’t like beer and if she hadn’t been so intent on Chase and the response of the men now looking at Trey’s photo, she wouldn’t have lifted the bottle and drank.

“It can’t taste that bad.” A cowboy slid into the booth opposite her, grinning as he nodded at the bottle in front of her. “But since it apparently does, how about letting me buy you something better. A shot of Jose Cuervo, maybe?”

“Thanks, but no thanks.” Raine nearly groaned when she met Chase’s gaze across the room and registered the grim set of his mouth as he started toward her. “I have a personal rule against letting strange men buy me drinks.”

“I’m not a strange man, honey. I could get downright friendly if you’re willing.”

“She’s not.”

Both Raine and the cowboy looked up. Raine’s stomach lurched. Though Chase didn’t move, he emanated a lethal threat that stole Raine’s breath.

The young cowboy eased out of the booth, mumbled an apology and headed quickly over to the bar.

“Let’s go.”

Raine slid out of the booth, her body brushing Chase’s as she moved past him. Heat bloomed everywhere they touched, prickling her skin and setting off warning signals. She knew he was dangerous. She’d known before she’d asked for his help in finding Trey that he would probably be difficult to work with. She’d never expected to be physically attracted to him.

She walked ahead of him across the room, aware of him following her.

They stepped out into the night.

“Did any of the men around the pool tables remember seeing Trey?” Raine asked.

“No.” Chase took her arm and guided her down the sidewalk toward his SUV.

“Then he wasn’t here?”

“Hard to say. I don’t think he was inside the bar but it’s possible the letter writer approached him outside.” Chase stepped off the curb, hit the control button to unlock the vehicle. “Or maybe he never made it to Billings.”