If You Know Her: A Novel of Romantic Suspense (12 page)

“Shit.” Ezra rubbed the back of his neck as Nia stormed off.

He’d handled that well.

“Hey, Sheriff.”

Distracted, Ezra looked up, saw a familiar face—Jennings—one of the infinite Jenningses. Pleasant face, blue eyes, and wire-rim glasses, bald … the man was familiar, but Ezra couldn’t place him.

The name escaped him for a minute, and just then, he was too aggravated with himself to worry about wracking his brain for a name.

He needed to catch up with Nia—talk to her, and forget her love life.

All the prying around she was doing, well, he wanted to know if she had seen anything that caught her eye, and he also wanted to make damn sure she was being careful.

Lately, he was feeling twitchy. He hadn’t felt this twitchy since the day Lena had told him about the screams she’d heard. Something weird was going down and he needed to be ready for it.

So instead of slowing down to chat, he just nodded and kept on walking.

Of course, by the time he got outside, Nia was already pulling out of the parking lot.

Later that night, Nia told herself she wasn’t going to the Grill just to look for him. At least not
just
to look for him. She needed to eat dinner, right? And if she decided to go to the Grill rather than out for fast food, so what?

He wasn’t there, though.

She did bump into a city cop who seemed vaguely familiar—
very
vaguely. He kept his hair clipped short, so close to his skull she could see the scalp. He had nice eyes, eyes that briefly flicked over her body with an appreciative glance as she settled onto a stool at the bar.

She’d thought about leaving, but if she left, how would she know if Law came in or not? So she didn’t leave.

“Hey.”

She smiled at the cop with half a mind to dismiss him, but then she realized that maybe she could work him a little, get some information out of him that she hadn’t been able to get from King earlier that day.

Not entirely likely, but possible.

“Hi.” She gave him a less forced smile before signaling to the bartender—a Diet Coke, this time; after the beers she’d put away last time, she didn’t need anything else.

“You’re Nia Hollister.”

She suppressed her wince—barely. Giving him a wry smile, she said, “Hell, I guess the stuff I’ve heard about small-town grapevines is all true, huh?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” He smiled. “Kent Jennings.”

“Another Jennings …” She shook the hand he offered.

He grinned at her. “You know, there’s really not as many of us as it would appear. It just seems that way.”

“Uh-huh.” She lifted a hand and ticked off her fingers as she counted. “So far, I’ve met a deputy by the name of Jennings … family?”

“That’s Keith.” He grinned. “Third cousins, maybe fourth. I don’t keep track.”

“Okay. The mayor’s a Jennings. I saw that in the paper. There’s also a DA Jennings.” She ticked off two more fingers.

“Yep. Brothers. That’s Hank and Remy. We’re also cousins. I’m a fairly watered-down Jennings, to be honest.” Kent shrugged and said, “You get used to it, growing up around it. Remy and Hank, they’re kind of the center, if that makes sense.”

The power base
, she supposed. Every dynasty had one. From all she’d been able to tell over the past week, the Jennings family had their own little miniature dynasty going here. A friendly one, but still. At least on the surface.

“I heard you been spending some time going through police reports and other public-type documents,” Kent said.

Nia slid him a narrow look. “So just how does this small-town grapevine work? Word of mouth? Telephone? E-mail?”

“All of the above. It makes that grapevine even more efficient.” He winked at her. “That’s how I was able to
keep up with everything, even working a few extra shifts. I’ve heard about your interest in our town’s arrests and all, I’ve heard about your bike, I know what hotel you’re staying at …” He flashed her a smile. “Other things, but my mom might smack me if I mentioned one or two of the details.”

Nia didn’t blush. She didn’t give a damn if people were talking about the fact that she’d all but crawled all over a good-looking guy. She did wonder if it might bother Law, though. Wondered if it was going to cause him problems with Hope. Yeah, he’d said she wasn’t his girlfriend, but she was something to him—Nia had seen that.

Smiling at the cop, she asked, “You always listen to gossip?”

“So it’s gossip then?”

In the middle of lifting her drink to her mouth, she paused, thought about it. Shit. Blowing out a breath, she said, “No.”

“Didn’t think so.” Then he sighed. “Reilly’s good people. Not from around here, but he’s good people. So. How come you’re here then?”

“Because I am,” she replied edgily. Geez, what was with these people, so fucking nosy.

Kent slid her a look, flashed her a smile that was so easy, so charming, it was hard to stay irritated. “Sorry, don’t mean anything by it. I’m just curious. If you’re looking for him, not likely to find him here. He doesn’t come into town much on the weekend—we don’t get too rowdy around here, but when we do … well, it happens on the weekend.”

She flushed, shrugged. Was she that obvious?

Hell. Maybe.

“I’m here to get something to eat, to drink. It’s not like they serve dinner at the hotel.”

“Good point. If you’re going to be in town awhile, you ought to hit up Roz over at the Inn. She sublets the cabins every now and then—and they got better food there. A few of the cabins even have kitchenettes. Quieter out there. A lot more private than anything you’ll find in town.” He slid her an amused smile. “It’s only a few miles away from where Reilly lives, too.”

“And that should make a difference, huh?”

“You going to tell me it doesn’t?” He lifted a brow.

Shit.

Scowling, she focused on her drink and wished she’d ordered something stronger.

“The Inn, huh? So where is it?”

He laughed.

He knew she was still in town.

After all, this was Ash, and in Ash, anything different was a hot topic for discussion … Nia Hollister was different, and not only was she different, she was hot—in more ways than one.

He’d heard she all but closed down the Grill with Law Reilly earlier that week.

He’d heard she had been seen in the sheriff’s department.

He kept hoping to hear she was leaving town, but so far, that hadn’t happened.

As a matter of fact, as the days passed by, she’d spent them at the library,
researching
 … going through the archives. And rumor had it she’d spent today going through police reports filed through the city and county.

As if it wasn’t bad enough just having her in his town, where she didn’t belong. Just having her here was bad. Troublesome. In a lot of ways. There was little question in his mind
why
she was here. She hadn’t accepted what had happened to her cousin. She wanted more, was willing to dig to find it.

But how long would she stay …? How deep would she dig? Why was she messing around in the archives at the library? Over at the courthouse, rummaging through public documents?

Slowing to a stop in front of the Ash Hotel, he glanced over—casual. He knew how to do casual. Knew how to go unnoticed, how to be unseen even when everybody was looking right at him.

Then he narrowed his eyes, hardly able to believe what he saw.

She was packing up. Loading her things onto her bike. Well, well. He hadn’t seen this easy ending coming. Still smiling, he pulled on through the stop sign and finished the drive into town. He was in the mood for some coffee and breakfast. Maybe he’d hit the café.

She was leaving … good.

Damn good thing.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Rolling onto her belly, Lena buried her face in her pillow and groaned. They’d only been married a few months and normally, Ezra just wasn’t the type to hover.

Then again, normally, she didn’t spend several days all but hugging the toilet. It had finally passed, but she was still so damned tired. All week, all she’d done was sleep, wake up, try to eat … then lose interest and go back to sleep.

“I’ll be better after about another twenty-four hours of unconsciousness,” she mumbled. “Go. Go to town, have coffee with the boys and talk about whatever you cop types talk about at these ‘not-staff’ meetings.”

He sat on the edge of the bed and she could all but feel the reluctance rolling off of him. One roughened hand stroked her back, lingered low on her spine, his fingers digging into the tense muscles there. “If you’re sure you’ll be okay …”

“Well, I’m really anxious to get my boy toy over—so get out already.” Then she sighed, rolled over. She reached out and her fingers brushed his leg. “Ezra, I’m not dying or anything. I’m even starting to feel better and just need some sleep. Go to town and while you’re there, get me some Tylenol and some chicken noodle soup. I almost feel hungry.”

He chuckled. “Now I
know
you’re sick, if you want me buying you some sort of soup in a can.”

“Hey, I’m sick … it’s not like
I
can cook it. And I want to get better, which means I can’t trust
you
to do it.” She forced a smile for him, even though her eyes felt heavier by the second.

“Okay.” He sighed and bent over, his lips brushing over her chin. “I’ll call and check on you in a while.”

“Umm.”

She was asleep before he hit the doorway.

Ezra glanced back, saw Puck lying there, his head on his paws, a mournful look on his face. If Ezra didn’t know better, he’d think the dog was having sympathy sickness or something. And as soon as that thought rolled through his mind, he found himself thinking—
morning sickness
.

It had been his first thought, but Lena had already shot that idea down. It was the first thing the doctor had checked when she’d been seen. He was fine with that, too. He wasn’t exactly
opposed
to having kids. He just wasn’t sure he wanted them
now
. They’d just gotten married. Still getting used to each other.

And here he was, getting used to a new job, doing one thing he hadn’t thought he’d be doing again.

The weapon he wore at his side weighed on him. A lot.

It was a burden he hadn’t planned on taking back up
again, but when he’d been approached about taking Dwight’s place, for some reason, he’d been unable to say no.

Not that saying
No
was hard for him. Ezra was just fine saying no when it suited him. When it felt right.

This time, it hadn’t felt right.

As a matter of fact, saying yes had felt about as right as anything he’d ever done—almost as right as when he’d asked Lena to marry him. Even though this was a burden he hadn’t planned on carrying, it fit.

It was one he was suited to, one he was meant to carry, he supposed.

It was a hell of a lot more laid-back than anything he’d done before he’d been injured. The job with the State Police, the crime rings he’d dealt with, stolen property—chasing after leads, dead ends, all that shit, sometimes spinning his wheels for twelve, eighteen months at a time, all for nothing. No, this was better.

A lot better. And the “staff” meetings Lena had been ribbing him about were a lot easier to swallow. Not that this was a real staff meeting, although they had those, too. Every couple of weeks, he’d meet up with the rest of the staff and just talk.

It had started out informally—and it was still informal, but Dwight Nielson had cast a long shadow here; taking his place wasn’t easy. There were more than a few deputies who felt they should have gotten the job that had been “given” to some outsider.

Trying to establish an environment where they could all work together wasn’t easy and this was one way of moving forward. Trying to win them over one at a time.

Those who didn’t like it, as far he was concerned, they could kiss his ass.

He wasn’t going anywhere and he wasn’t playing by the good ol’ boy rules they seemed to think they could
lay out, either. Ezra was in this for the long haul—they needed to deal with it.

Fortunately, the hard cases were the minority.

By the time he made it to the café, it was hopping. Along the back wall, he saw his men, and only two empty chairs. Keith was there, along with Ethan Sheffield, Walter Manning, his deputy sheriff Steven Mabry along with his brother Kyle, Kent Jennings, several of the guys from the night shift … Ezra smiled.

More than the last time. He had to make his way through the maze of tables—like most mornings, the café was packed.

The mayor was at a table with several of his cousins—Carter was there, Remy and Hope, Angie Shoffner and her husband Bill. She’d been a Jennings until she married him. Ezra assumed half of the people at the table were probably from the Jennings clan, too, but he couldn’t be sure. He was still learning names.

Jennings—seemed like they owned most of the damn town.

Lucy Walbash was there, having breakfast with two of her grandsons—Ezra couldn’t remember their names for the life of him. She beamed at him and he smiled, but was glad the crowd kept him from getting to her easily. Lucy had been one of his grandmother’s best friends and he adored her, but she could talk like nothing he’d ever seen.

He dropped into one of the spare chairs and glanced back at the crowd. “Did you all have to threaten to arrest people to clear a table or what?”

“No.” Keith smiled from behind his coffee cup.

Ethan smirked. “He’s messing around with Natalie lately—she kept the table open for him.”

“You and Natalie?” Ezra cocked a brow at his right-hand man and tried to wrap his mind around that
picture—it wasn’t quite coming together in his head. Keith had plenty of women who flirted with him—all but threw themselves in his path sometimes, but Keith was oblivious. Maybe that was why the picture didn’t work. The guy just never seemed to notice women.

But now he had a red flush creeping up his neck and had developed a very strange obsession with his coffee cup. “You know, that takes balls,” Ezra said, unable to resist teasing him. “I don’t know if I’d want to go chasing after one of Miss Lucy’s granddaughters. That lady terrifies me—hell, I’d almost rather go chasing after one of Miz Tuttle’s girls than one of Miss Lucy’s.”