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?
5
“You 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.