Blood in the Water(46)
“Take it easy.” Jane gasped and backed up against the wall. “Let’s not have any felonies today.”
“Hello to you too.”
Byron wasn’t a bit afraid. Wouldn’t be the first or last time someone pulled on him. He chuckled like he didn’t have a care in the world, even as he placed himself between the biker and Jane. A shotgun was all about showing off, and he doubted the biker would have the balls to pull the trigger in broad daylight in front of witnesses.
“What’s the matter, pet, you scared?” Scorch glanced past Byron to look Jane up and down. He had a cockney British accent. Byron idly wondered how a Brit ended up in the ass end of Texas, but it wasn’t his business.
“The lady’s fine.” Byron turned his body, completely blocking the man’s view. “Deal with me.”
“I’d much rather deal with her.” Scorch leered at Jane again.
“See? I came in here as a courtesy, but you’re makin’ my trigger finger twitchy. Look at her again, and we’re gonna have a problem.”
“Oh, for pity’s sake,” Jane grumbled. “Is this a macho thing? I don’t care who has a larger penis. No one needs to get shot today.”
“Trust me, darlin’, mine is.” Byron cocked the gun. “Are we gonna talk or do you wanna finish this the hard way?”
A long, tense moment passed. They locked eyes, assessed the threat level, and then slowly nodded.
Game, set, match.
In unison, they lowered their weapons.
Skeeter stood up behind the desk, and the harsh scent of ammonia drifted over.
The fool done peed himself. Terrific.
“Skeeter, open the fuckin’ window. And what the hell are you doin’ here, mate?” Scorch asked Byron.
“Just here for the weekend. It’s Dearest Day, and my lady friend and I were lookin’ to spend some quality time alone.”
Dearest Day was a Texas tradition, sort of a low-rent, regional Valentine’s Day created to bilk more cash out of sorry suckers in relationships. Byron had never had the misfortune to be in one of those, but he’d seen others in the outfit pony up the cash from time to time.
He narrowed his eyes. “Nothin’ else?”
“We’re doing research.” Jane stood beside Byron, and he resisted the urge to wrap a proprietary arm around her.
“Research on what, pet?”
Scorch was taken with his lady lawyer, which pissed Byron the hell off.
“Um…,” Jane hesitated, and Byron wondered if she’d blow their cover.
“On murders. Have there been any in town? I’m only interested in the ones where the victims were young women.”
Scorch and Skeeter exchanged a look Byron didn’t quite understand, as though they shared some secret.
“Right, so we’re mixin’ business with pleasure.” Byron looped an arm around her waist, and she flinched at first, but then loosened up.
“That’s what I meant.” Jane smiled, big and bright. “Have there been any drownings?”
The men still gawked as if he and Jane were interesting zoo exhibits.
“What sort of business are you in, ma’am?” Skeeter asked.
“Answer the question.” She opened her briefcase and withdrew a yellow legal pad. “I need details so leave nothing out.”
“Tourists, huh?” Scorch turned to Skeeter, and they shrugged. “Whatcha gonna do with ’em?”
“You a gothic girl or somethin’?” Skeeter scratched his chin. “’Cuz you ain’t dressed as such.”
Scorch moseyed over to the door and then turned to face Byron. “I’m keepin’ an eye on you while you’re town.”
“Like I told you, I ain’t here to cause trouble.”
“Gotta see it before I believe it. If you try anythin’, we’ll finish this the bloody way.” And then the dickhead blew a kiss to Jane before he strutted out of the place.
His jaw clenched. If Byron had been in town on business, he would’ve given the biker a lesson in respect he’d never forget.
“There’s the Spellman case,” Skeeter said. “It’s become a local legend.”
“Tell me about it.” Jane scribbled away on the pad of paper.
“Betsy Spellman was murdered on the Valentine estate.”
Jane perked up. “Valentine Estate?”
“Yeah, real bigwigs in these parts. Moved to Texas from Indiana in the late nineties. Made their money in real estate. Anyway, Betsy was murdered on their property. Her body was found by their private lake.”
“Did the girl drown?” Byron asked.
“Yeah, but the killer sliced her open too.” He shook his head. “Gives me the creeps even thinkin’ about it.”