Justice Burning (Hellfire #2) (5 page)

With her newfound freedom and independence stiffening her backbone, she marched to the counter, lifted the phone and entered the phone number for Audrey Anderson.

After only one ring, a female voice answered. “This is Audrey.”

Never having interviewed for a job, much less over the phone, Phoebe’s brain froze, and she struggled to come up with an introduction. Finally, she said, “Hi, I’m Phoebe.”

Audrey chuckled, the sound warm and friendly. “Well, Phoebe, what can I do for you?”

She glanced around the diner, her gaze meeting Judy’s.

The waitress smiled again and nodded.

Those gestures gave Phoebe the courage to forge on. “I’m new in town, and I was wondering if you needed any help at the…” what was the name of the place?

“At the Ugly Stick?” Audrey assisted. “As a matter of fact, I’m short two waitresses tonight. I’m filling in for one of them, but I could use another. Talk about great timing. Do you own a pair of denim cut-offs?”

Frayed cut-offs had been one of the items Peg had insisted she select. Phoebe answered, “Yes.”

“Can you be here in an hour?”

Audrey didn’t waste time. “I could, if I could get a ride from Hellfire.”

“No problem. My husband is headed this way about then, he can give you a lift, and I can bring you back to town after we close.”

“That would be wonderful.” Phoebe hugged the phone to her ear, tears welling in her eyes. “Thank you so much.”

“No,” Audrey said. “Thank you! We’ll be swamped tonight with the tri-county rodeo going on. This will be a
big
help to me.”

Phoebe provided the address of her garage apartment. Audrey stated her husband, Jackson, had business in Hellfire anyway, and would be there in forty-five minutes. After she hung up, Phoebe returned to her table where Judy had set a glass of water.

Minutes later, the waitress brought her food.

The golden toasted grilled cheese sandwich looked better than any of the high-dollar chef-prepared dinners she’d eaten in the past. So hungry she could barely see straight, she wolfed down the sandwich and the potato chips that accompanied it, paid for her meal and hugged Judy on her way out the door.

Going from homeless and broke, with nothing more than the wedding dress on her back, she now had an apartment, a job and a full stomach. Life was looking up. As she left Bob’s Diner, she looked both ways on Main Street, wondering which way she should go to get to Rider Grayson’s auto repair shop. With thirty minutes to spare before Jackson arrived at her apartment to drive her to the Ugly Stick Saloon, she had time to find the auto shop and maybe buy a few groceries. Removing the body would have to wait until after the town of Hellfire went to sleep. Then she’d have to start her life of crime by breaking and entering into the auto shop and figuring out how to move the body of a one-hundred-eighty-pound man.

Phoebe wondered if her personal trainer had a program for heavy lifting for the criminally inclined. Though she found nothing humorous in her situation, she couldn’t help a bark of laughter as she wandered through the streets of Hellfire.

Finally, she came to a building with Grayson’s Auto Repairs written in bold lettering on a sign positioned over the door. The only light inside came from a single bulb shining in the back of the building.

A dark sedan drove by on the street behind her, slowing as it approached where Phoebe stood.

She hunched her shoulders and continued down the sidewalk. In a small town, everyone knew or wanted to know everyone else’s business. If she stood too long in front of a building, she’d draw attention. Oh, hell, who was she kidding? The new girl in town would draw attention no matter what. Phoebe walked on.

The sedan kept pace. After a few steps, tingling spread down Phoebe’s spine. Had her father’s bodyguards or private investigators caught up with her? She walked faster. At the next corner, she made a quick left, ducking onto a street with only one street light halfway down the block.

Before the sedan had a chance to make that same turn, Phoebe sprinted to the end of a commercial building and turned into the back alley. As soon as she did, it was as if the light had been snuffed. Using only the moonlight and the distant and somewhat sporadic lights from nearby homes, she hurried through a maze of trash bins and pallet stacks. Footsteps behind her made her move faster, until she was running, leaping and stumbling over the obstacles in her path. Finally, she threw herself between a large metal rubbish container and the brick wall of a building.

Her breathing came in swift, shallow breaths, as she strained past the noise of her pulse pounding against her eardrums, and listened for the footsteps. By the sound of it, two people hurried her way, accompanied by an occasional curse and a loud crash as one or both of her pursuers crashed into some hidden object.

Hunkering low in the shadows, she hid and waited, praying the two would pass her by and abandon their search. The low tones of their voices indicated they were men. One paused on the other side of the container.

“Where did she go?” he whispered.

“How the hell do I know?” the other guy said. “I can’t see a damned thing.”

“Get moving. We have to find her,” the first guy said, moving farther away.

Phoebe waited a few more minutes before poking her head out of her hiding place. Her vision had adjusted to the deep gloom. Nothing moved in the alley except a stray cat casually strolling through as if nothing scared him.

Turning back the way she’d come, she hurried toward the rear of the auto repair shop and pressed her nose to the window, peering through the dingy glass. She could make out a couple cars with hoods open and parts lying on the floor of the shop.

God, she hoped Rider hadn’t found the body in the trunk. She suspected that whoever chased her down the alley had something to do with the body in the trunk. The only reason they would want her was because she must know Ryan was in there.

Then again, she hadn’t seen the men who’d killed him. Which led back to the question of why had they killed Ryan, and why would they now be after her?

“
Y
ou should have seen
old Nash carrying the pretty bride around like he was marching her over a threshold.” Rider lifted the beer in his hand. “Never thought I’d see him with a bride. He’s too cantankerous to get married. Suppose I’ll have to be content with that image. It’s probably as close as he’ll get to a bride of his own.”

“I’m sitting at the table, dumbass,” Nash said, tossing back the whiskey shooter he’d ordered, following it with a longneck bottle of his favorite beer. They’d gathered at the Ugly Stick Saloon for a drink after work to celebrate their brother Chance’s thirty-first birthday. “You don’t have to talk about me like I’m in another county.”

Rider clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Sorry, old man. I can’t help it. I wish you could have seen it like I did. The look on your face cracked me up!” He laughed again and wiped the tears from his eyes before taking another long draw from his beer.

“I wouldn’t push him too hard,” Beckett, Nash’s oldest brother, said. “He’s younger than you, and what do you have to show for yourself? You haven’t even come close to landing a girlfriend, much less a wife.”

Rider frowned. “I haven’t been looking. Besides, we aren’t all as old as you, Beckett. You’re lucky Kinsey came back to town, or you’d be as single as the rest of us.”

Becket’s lips curled in a contented smile, and he reached for his fiancée’s hand. “I am lucky she came back to town.”

“Damn right, you are,” Kinsey declared. “But we’re not here to talk about the new girl in town, as interesting as she sounds. We’re here to celebrate.” She lifted her beer. “Happy birthday, Chance.”

The other brothers lifted their drinks and echoed Kinsey’s sentiment. “Happy birthday!”

After taking a long pull on their drinks, the brothers lowered them and stared around at each other.

“Thirty-one, huh?” Rider clapped Chance on the back. “So when are you settling down and getting married? Seems we need to get busy populating the family tree with little Graysons.”

“We can leave that to Beckett and Kinsey.” Chance shook his head. “I’m not in a hurry to find a ball and chain. I like being footloose.”

“That’s Chance-speak for I can’t get a date, and I don’t give enough of a damn to figure out why,” Rider said. “What we need is an online dating service so we can meet women.”

Chance raised his hand. “No way. I prefer to find my own.”

Nash agreed with Chance. Online dating wasn’t for him, either.

Rider’s brows rose. “And how’s that working for you, Chance, old man?”

With a shrug, Chance took another swig of his beer, keeping silent.

“Want me to get you boys another round of drinks?” Kinsey glanced around. “Seems Audrey is short some waitresses tonight.”

“Bad night to be short, what with the rodeo in town.”

“I’m surprised Jackson isn’t here to help,” Kinsey said as she glanced around. “He’s always here on big nights.”

Jackson Gray Wolf emerged from the doorway behind the bar with someone behind him. About that time, Kinsey shifted, blocking Nash’s view.

Chance gave a low whistle. “Hey, who’s the hot redhead with Jackson?”

Nash craned his neck, unable to see past Kinsey. Chance’s mention of a redhead had Nash’s every nerve on alert. Surely it wasn’t the pretty Phoebe he’d rescued on the side of the road earlier that day.

Rider leaned sideways and gave a hoot of laughter. “Well, I’ll be damned. It’s her!” He glanced at Nash. “Your pretty bride came looking for you, Nash. Whatcha gonna do?”

“She didn’t come looking for me.” Nash scooted back his chair, in an attempt to get a look at the woman with Jackson, without appearing too interested. He’d never hear the end of the teasing from his brothers.

“You know I could hold off making the repairs to her tire if you want to take a shot at asking her for a date,” Rider said.

“I’m not going to date her. She just broke up with her fiancé.” Kinsey finally moved, and Nash got a full view of the woman. She wore an Ugly Stick Saloon tank top similar to the ones the other waitresses did, and she’d changed into denim cut-offs that showcased long, slender, toned legs he could imagine wrapped around his waist. She’d combed the riotous curls and secured them in a French braid at the back of her head. He liked her better with her hair loose and crazy around her face. “I doubt she’s interested in starting another relationship so soon,” he muttered.

Rider’s grin widened. “So you admit it. You thought about it, didn’t you?”

“Not once,” Nash responded, refusing to give Rider the satisfaction of knowing he was right. Yeah, Nash had thought about asking her out. But the fact she’d run away from her own wedding should be a bright red flag where Phoebe Smith was concerned. She’d left her fiancé at the altar. If she’d done it once, she might do it again. Not that Nash would ask her to marry him. But she was interesting…and beautiful…

No. His fingers tightened on the bottle. Nash wasn’t interested in a woman who couldn’t make up her mind before such a huge event as a wedding. He almost felt sorry for the schmuck she left behind.

“Well, if you’re not asking her out, then I will.” Rider pushed to his feet and started for the bar and Phoebe.

Nash hooked his finger in Rider’s belt and yanked him back into his chair.

“Hey.” Rider glared at him.

With a nod toward Phoebe, who was lifting a tray full of beer bottles and whiskey shooters, Nash said, “Looks like she’ll be working for Audrey. Give her a break on her first night.”

Phoebe held the tray in front of her, the beer bottles teetering as she worked her way across the floor under the weight.

“Hey, Audrey, who’s the new girl?” a man called out.

Audrey smiled and shouted above the noise of the juke box and the men all talking at once. “Everyone say hello to Phoebe. She’s new in town and new to the Ugly Stick. Give her a big howdy.”

Cowboys raised their hats and everyone in the saloon shouted as one, “Howdy!”

Phoebe’s cheeks turned a bright red as she arrived at a table full of dusty men, fresh from the rodeo. One by one, she set bottles on the table. With only one left in the middle of the tray, she reached for it at the same time as one of the men pinched her ass. Phoebe jumped, squealed and lost control of the tray. The last full beer bottle slid sideways and tipped into the lap of the man who’d pinched her.

Nash was out of his chair and halfway across the room before he realized he’d even moved. But he wasn’t nearly as fast as Audrey.

She made it to Phoebe before Nash, grabbed the spilled beer off the floor, said something funny and had the entire table laughing. Then she wagged a finger at the cowboy and warned him to leave the new girl alone. Phoebe had enough to worry about.

The cowboy nodded, his face contrite under Audrey’s chastising. “Sorry, Miss Phoebe. It won’t happen again.”

His buddies roared with laughter and clapped him on the back.

Phoebe and Audrey gathered all the empty bottles and returned to the bar with no further trouble.

“Not interested, huh?” Beckett stood beside Nash. “You sure were up in a hurry. And I know it wasn’t for another beer. The bar is in the other direction.”

“Doesn’t mean anything. After rescuing her on the side of the road, I feel responsible for her welfare.”

“Yeah. And she isn’t cute enough to make you jealous of the guy who pinched her.”

Nash’s brows descended. “It’s sexual harassment.”

“And he apologized,” Beckett pointed out.

“Still, he bears watching.”

“He?” Beckett asked with an arched eyebrow. “Or she?”

Nash had enough of his brother’s taunts. Rather than stick around for more of their good-natured abuse, he pushed through the front door and out into the open night air. The moonless sky was no less bright with the blanket of stars shining down on the Texas landscape.

He breathed in and let go of the tension he hadn’t been able to shuck since he’d met the fiery-haired temptress on the road to Hellfire. If he’d known then she’d be staying in Hellfire indefinitely, he might not have been so helpful. Oh, who was he kidding? An hour after he was supposed to have reported in for shift change, he’d dragged his ass into the sheriff’s office. When he filled out his report, he’d found himself deleting half of the words he’d typed on the screen.

The sheriff and the county records didn’t need to know the woman was young, and pretty with pale, moss green eyes. They sure as hell didn’t need to know she bit her bottom lip whenever she was nervous and that the action made Nash want to kiss her every time she did it. When he’d finally made his way to the ranch, he’d had every intention of going for a long ride on his horse to clear the woman from his head.

The ride had to be postponed as he’d promised to go with his brothers to the Ugly Stick Saloon to celebrate Chance’s birthday. If he could have gotten out of it, he would have. But today was his brother’s birthday and they’d promised each other to pick up where their parents had left off after their untimely deaths. They were family, and family stuck together.

Except when they were pushing him toward a woman who had trouble written all over her pretty face.

Nash walked across the gravel parking lot, tempted to climb in his truck and head back to the ranch. He’d done his duty and drank a toast to his brother’s birthday. They wouldn’t begrudge him calling it a day, considering he’d been on duty since five o’clock that morning. But the farther away from the saloon he walked, the more it called to him to return.

Hell, the saloon wasn’t what called to him to return. His protective instincts were on high-alert for the little redhead on her first day as a waitress. He couldn’t ignore her or go home now that he knew she would be there all evening, surrounded by a bunch of rowdy cowboys, who would most likely drink themselves stupid and come on to every waitress in the bar— including Phoebe and Audrey.

Jackson would be there to help Audrey close up. He always was on rodeo nights. He loved his wife, the mother of his baby girl, and didn’t want her to be manhandled by a drunken cowboy. Audrey was just as much of a temptation as the other waitresses with her strawberry blonde hair, short cutoffs and bright red cowboy boots. She’d made something out of the Ugly Stick Saloon and the bar was getting a reputation for the place to go when cowboys and travelers were anywhere near the tri-county area.

Resisting the urge to return to the saloon, knowing he couldn’t keep his gaze off Phoebe, Nash walked around the building, staring out at the hayfields bathed in starlight. He loved the wide-open spaces and the fresh, clean country air.

After four combat tours before he’d turned twenty-seven, he was glad to be home. Two years of ranching later had barely taken the edge off his military duty. With more nervous energy than even he could stand, he’d signed on with the local sheriff’s department. It was just another way to stay busy and continue the ingrained need to serve and protect the people of his country and community. Otherwise, the transition back to the civilian world would have been even harder, and he might have ended up like some of his buddies who couldn’t seem to find their way home.

He had his family, the ranch and the open spaces where he could escape when he needed to. Lights shined on him from a vehicle turning around at the back of the building. Nash glanced to the side to make sure he wasn’t in the way. As a deputy with the sheriff’s department, he couldn’t help but study the make and model and commit the license plate to memory.

Most of the vehicles in the parking lot were trucks or SUVs. The vehicle making the turn was a dark, four-door sedan, either navy blue or black. The windows were darkly tinted, disguising how many people were inside. And if that wasn’t enough to make the hairs on the back of Nash’s neck stand at attention, the vehicle moved slowly, as if the driver was looking for someone or something.

Nash stood near a tree, outside the glow of the pale yellow light on the back porch of the saloon. He doubted the sedan’s driver had seen him, or he probably wouldn’t be casing the joint or the other trucks and SUVs in the parking lot.

As the sedan rounded the side of the saloon aiming for the front, Nash followed the glowing brake lights.

The sedan performed the same routine, driving the length of the parking area, turning and driving just as slowly back. Finally, the driver pulled out onto the highway and sped off.

Armed with the license plate, Nash called in to Martha, the woman on night duty at dispatch.

A few moments later, she called back. “The vehicle belongs to a Frances Maynard, an eighty-year-old woman living in Fort Worth.”

Which could explain why she was driving so slowly, but not why she was in the area to begin with—unless she was looking for her husband. In which case, the car should have been in his name as well. “And it wasn’t reported stolen?”

“No. Why do you ask?”

“I saw it cruising around the Ugly Stick Saloon. You might have someone call Mrs. Maynard and ask her if she knows where her car is.”

“This late at night?”

“If it was stolen, the sooner we know, the sooner we can recover it.”

“Will do,” Martha said and ended the call.

With that odd feeling still prickling the skin on the back of his neck, Nash rounded to the front door and entered the saloon, his gaze going automatically to the redhead serving drinks to his brothers.

Rider was smiling and talking to Phoebe, like he always did with the women. Normally, his flirting didn’t bother Nash. Rider fancied himself a ladies’ man. Only this time, it rubbed Nash the wrong way. Maybe his brothers were right, and he was jealous of any man flirting with Phoebe. So what? Didn’t mean he wanted her for himself. He just didn’t want anyone else to have her.

He cursed beneath his breath and marched across the wooden dance floor to the table he’d been sharing with Beckett, Kinsey, Chance and Rider. Audrey had come to sit with them, taking the seat Nash vacated.

When he arrived at the table, she hopped up.

“No need to leave.” Nash genuinely enjoyed Audrey’s company, her sharp mind and business sense when it came to running the Ugly Stick Saloon. She’d helped more than her share of what he called “stray” humans get back on their feet when they hit hard times. The woman had a big heart and an open door. If someone needed something, she was there to help.