Justice Burning (Hellfire #2)(11)

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.

“I have to get back to work,” Audrey insisted. “I just wanted to wish Chance a happy birthday. Sit,” she commanded. “Phoebe was about to take orders.”

Nash sat in the chair, still warm from where Audrey had been. When he glanced up at Phoebe, her gaze met his. She drew her bottom lip between her teeth and worried it, before asking. “Can I get you anything?”

“Long neck, Bud Light,” he said, his voice gruff, the urge to kiss that bottom lip stronger than ever before.

Phoebe nodded, spun on her heels and hurried away.

“Hey,” Rider said, a frown denting his brow. “She didn’t take my order.”

“If you weren’t so busy flirting, you might have told her,” Beckett said.

“You snooze, you lose,” Chance added with a smirk.

Rider shrugged. “That’s okay. I need to move.” He glanced around the saloon until his gaze landed on two women sitting at a table on the opposite side of the dance floor. Clapping his hands together, Rider grinned. “I’m seeing double tonight. Maybe I’ll get twice as lucky.”

“Aren’t they a little young for you?” Beckett asked.

“As far as I know, they’re single, live on their own and are over twenty-one.” Shooting a frown at Beckett, he added, “I’m not that much older.”