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“The only questions we asked that could have possibly tripped anyone’s radar were the ones involving the Mackay family,” Chaya told the sheriff and Natches that afternoon as she sat in the back of the cruiser, headed for the last name on that morning’s list.
Timothy Cranston had called and ordered the interviews for that day be completed. Natches hadn’t been pleased, and Chaya knew he was only biding his time. She could feel the temper rising inside him as they drove toward one of the more popular nightclubs—or bars, as Natches called them—in town.
The sheriff pulled into the parking lot, and from the corner of her eye, she caught his grimace as he glanced toward the Harleys parked close to the building.
“Biker bar?” she asked him.
“We could only get so lucky. ” He shook his head as Natches moved from the front of the car and opened the back door for her.
“Ever been in a honky-tonk, sweetheart?” Natches asked her then.
Chaya stared around the parking lot and shook her head. “What’s wrong with honky-tonks?”
“The question is: What’s not wrong with them?” The sheriff sighed as he jammed his hat down on his head, his expression intimidating. “Who’s on the damned list for this place anyway?”
She pulled the small notebook from her pocket and glanced at the name. It was cute. “Rogue Walker. ”
She nearly bounced into Natches’s back as he came to a hard stop, turned, and stared over her head at the sheriff. Swinging around, Chaya got a glimpse of complete male horror a second before it was gone.
“It’s a cute name,” she announced.
“Lord have mercy on us,” Sheriff Mayes muttered before Natches gripped her arm and led her to the door.
“Try not to piss her off,” he suggested.
Chaya would have grinned at the suggestion if her nerves weren’t still rattled over Denton’s death and the bombs they had found in the vehicles the agents drove. Someone was definitely trying to send a message. That person didn’t like the questions and was going to put a stop to them.
“The file Cranston sent stated that Ms. Walker—”
“Don’t call her miz nothin’,” Natches interrupted. “Call her Rogue. Period. Don’t comment on her clothes, her hair, or her motorcycle, and no matter what you do, don’t even hint at mentioning her past employment. ”
Chaya stopped and stared up at him with a frown. “She was a schoolteacher; what’s so bad about that?”
“Lord help us if you ask about it,” he muttered. “Let’s get this the hell over with. If fists start flying, g
et back to the cruiser. We’ll be right behind you. ”
Oh yeah, she just bet he would be. He was probably praying for a fight to get rid of some of that testosterone.
Shaking her head, she followed him into the bar and picked out the subject immediately.
Dressed in black pants, boots, and a snug vest, Ms. Rogue Walker was tipping a beer to her lips and glancing to the door in boredom.
Long golden red hair cascaded down her back in thick ringlets; pale creamy flesh was accentuated by the black attire and gave her an almost feyish appearance. She was slender but curvy. Full breasts pressed against the front of the vest, and deep, pretty violet eyes widened before a sharp, disinterested mask descended over her face and she turned away.
Interesting. Chaya looked back at Natches. “A former conquest?”
“Even I wasn’t that damned brave,” he growled. “Now get this over with so we can leave. ”
“Fine, get a beer, park your butt at the bar with the sheriff, and leave me alone. ”
He grabbed hold of her arm, keeping her from turning away as his head lowered, his eyes darkening in irritation. “Not gonna happen. ”
“Better happen. ” She smiled tightly. “Or else? I can do ‘or else’ really well, Natches, and I can make it stick. This is the wrong place to decide to take over, and it’s definitely the wrong place for a public quarrel. ” She jerked her arm out of his hold and tried to tamp down the adrenaline still racing through her. It made her cranky and it made it more difficult for her to hold on to the patience she knew she needed right now. “I’ll just be a few minutes. You can see me perfectly fine while having a beer. ”
“And when I get you home we’re going to have a talk about this ‘do it your way’ crap,” he said, scowling. “First thing. ”
“Fine. ” She nodded. “First thing. I’ll be ready for you. Are we doing it naked or clothed?”
