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“Oh, come on. Lighten up.” He still hadn’t let go of her arm, no matter how much she tugged with her body. “Just spend the morning with me in the stands. I promise you’ll have a good time.”
Pixie was aggravated…and a little alarmed. The man had come on to her before, but he’d never been quite this aggressive. “Peter,” she said firmly. “Remove your hand from my arm, right now. I’m not in the mood to watch a game, and even if I was, I told you I don’t date.”
He actually sneered this time. “It doesn’t have to be a date.” His free hand joined the one that gripped her tightly, but thisone stroked her nonfunctioning arm from shoulder to elbow. “We could just call it…a hook-up.”
Now he was getting more than creepy. He was beginning to set off alarms in her head. She glanced away from him, sending her eyes around the parking lot. Surely someone…
Pixie blinked, seeing a person moving toward them. Was that…Harlan Depree? Skeeter’s younger brother? She knew he was back in town, but hadn’t run into him yet. It sure looked like him, but he was no longer the skinny kid who’d followed her around when they were younger. He looked…large. Intimidating. And he had a scowl on his face that gave her shivers.
He walked closer, but stopped ten feet away, his gaze glued to Peter’s hand as he glowered, then crossed his arms over his massive chest.
“Uh, Peter?” Pixie swallowed around a lump. “You might want to let go. We have company, and he doesn’t look happy.”
Peter didn’t remove his hand, but turned to look in the direction she’d indicated.
“Phhtt,” he laughed, lowering his voice. “That’s just good old Harlan. He’s one digit short of a full phone number. Hey. Buddy.” He raised his volume. “Nothing to see here. Mind your own business.”
Pixie watched while holding her breath. Would or wouldn’t Harlan follow Peter’s orders? She hoped he didn’t go. She wasn’t sure what Peter would do next if there were no witnesses.
Harlan, instead of leaving—thank God—fixed Peter with a frigid stare. His countenance grew even darker as Peter continued to hold her, and Pixie could swear Harlon’s chest swelled as he glared at the hand that restrained her.
It was a stand-off, and one Peter—after a good thirty seconds—must have finally realized he couldn’t win. Harlan had five inches and probably sixty or seventy pounds on good old Pete.
Her asshole colleague dropped her arm.
“Fine. Fine,” he demurred. “There’s no problem here, Harlan my boy. I was just talking to the lady, is all.” Peter backed away slowly, holding up both hands like he hadn’t done anything wrong by grabbing Pixie. “We—the two of us—work together, you know.”
Harlan still didn’t speak. He stood as if rooted to the spot, his angry stare never moving from Peter’s face.
Peter continued to prance backward, but before he got too far away, he addressed Pixie. “I’ll see you in school next Thursday. We can discuss our relationship, then.”
“There is no relationship, Peter, and there’s nothing to discuss. I told you I don’t want to go out with you. Ever. If you keep after me, I’ll have to report you to the superintendent for harassment.” There was no way she was giving in to the creepy asshole. That was for sure.
“We’ll see,” the brash man spat, but turned and sped away when his words had Harlan taking another step forward.
Seeing Peter disappear toward the high school grounds, Pixie heaved a sigh of relief, then regarded Harlan, giving him a tentative smile. “Thank you for that. He just won’t take no for an answer.”
Harlan grunted, then without acknowledging her further, turned and walked away without a word. She watched with her mouth open as he got into a beat-up old Chevy, then drove away without a backward glance. He hadn’t spoken once during the entire, strange encounter, and Pixie recalled what people around town had been saying. Harlan had suffered a horrific brain injury when Skeeter had shot him, and had been left…slow.
Still, mentally impeded or not, he’d managed to get her out of a sticky situation.
Whether he remembered her was another question. He hadn’t shown any signs of recognition, but that didn’t mean hewasn’t aware of who she was. She’d have to make a point to find out more about him. Maybe she’d even gather up her courage and visit his house.
Maybe.
With one quick glance over her shoulder to make sure Peter was no longer lurking nearby, Pixie began walking briskly in the direction of the coffee shop.
Now she had even more to talk about with Julie.
CHAPTER NINE
Doug’s adrenaline was up. It always elevated in situations like this. Unlike the majority of times his SWAT team faced danger, this type of op was…personal.
Standing at the ready in the hallway outside the suspect’s apartment, he’d preceded Maria to the scene by no more than two minutes. She now stood off to the side while OPD knocked on the requisite door, and…Cripes.It suddenly occurred to him that he knew all the officers. These were the men and women he worked with at his day job, so… It looked like his anonymity where MECASA was concerned, was now history.
“Mr. Nesbit,” the OPD’s lead man Rodger Phillips barked out. “This is the Orono Police. Open up. We have a warrant.”
“Fuck you!” they heard from within, and a bullet, aimed high, splintered the door right over the officer’s head.
