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“Then we have a triple homicide and no clear suspect. ” Gene grimaced. “Hell, you’d think we’d get a break after that bullshit with the Mackays and those terrorists last year.
What do you need me to do, Zeke?”
“Keep your ears open, see if you can get a name. I have a few more people to question. ”
Top of his list was Rogue’s bartender Jonesy.
Jonesy had a daughter that had been in town until the day before. Angie Jones was only eighteen, pretty from what Zeke had heard. Her name hadn’t been linked to the Walkers, but it was an angle he couldn’t overlook. Gene had a daughter as well, one in her early twenties, but she was married and living in Louisville.
“I’ll do that. ” Gene nodded, rising to his feet. “And the missus told me to let you know you’re invited to dinner next weekend. Willa and her new husband will be in from Louisville for a visit and they were asking about you. ”
Zeke shook his head. “I can’t make it next weekend, Gene. Shane’s supposed to be home and I try to spend some time with him when he’s in,” he said apologetically, though Zeke didn’t regret that he couldn’t.
“Yeah. ” Gene sighed. “I figured. Anyway. ” He nodded sharply. “I’ll see you tomorrow then. I best head home or the missus is likely to have my hide for dinner. Evenin’, Zeke. ”
“See you tomorrow, Gene. ” He nodded back as Gene left the office, then rubbed at the back of his neck while rising from his chair.
Picking up the coroner’s report, he moved to the file cabinet, filed it, then locked the tall, gray metal cabinet and glanced at the clock.
Tonight was Rogue’s early night at the restaurant. She would have taken care of paperwork rather than working as the hostess.
Hell. He’d fucked up last night, it was that simple. He was so desperate to get her out of the line of fire and just egotistical enough to think he could make her mad enough, or worse, hurt her enough, to send her running for home.
He should have known better. He had known better; that was the reason he had called her father, because he had known in his gut that wasn’t going to work. Rogue wouldn’t run, not from anything. She hadn’t run from Nadine Grace and Dayle Mackay when they’d threatened her with those pictures, and she hadn’t run from her assailant six months before. She wasn’t going to run now.
And she definitely wouldn’t run when he showed up at the bar tomorrow afternoon to question Jonesy. She’d stick right to the other man’s side and glare at Zeke the whole damned time. He’d get hard, horny, and once questioning was over he’d be trying to carry her to her bedroom. If she didn’t try to kill him first.
SIXTEEN
It was Ladies’ Night at the Bar. This was the reasonRogue made certain she was on-site from seven that evening until after closing. Ladies’ Night, spring and summer, was often the wildest night of the week. Saturdays could run a good close second, but the majority of her bouncers were on duty every Friday and Saturday evening. Wednesday was a bit lacking in that area, as most of her bouncers had second jobs through the week.
She kept meaning to hire more bouncers for Wednesdays, but so far she had been able to handle it with her skeleton crew. She had four bouncers on duty along with Jonesy, and the assistant bartender Kent.
The bar was filled close to capacity. The band was belting out country dance tunes and ballads, and the alcohol was flowing freely. A large majority of the regulars were there as well as a surprising number of tourists in town to enjoy the unseasonably warm weather and the many attractions to be had in Lake Cumberland.
As the day had progressed, Rogue’s frustration had only grown. Her father had called.
Ten minutes later her mother had called. After that, her grandparents and her sister.
John hadn’t called back, and that worried her more than anything.
Her father no longer suspected that Walkers were being killed; Zeke had confirmed his fears and now Calvin Walker was determined to get his daughter home.
Damn them all. She had been manipulated from the moment she stepped foot into this damned town. By one person or another she had been jerked around until she felt like a fucking rubber band.
She stared around the bar, realizing what it had come to represent, the escape from reality that it had been for all these years. She had raced here after her life had fallen apart, and she had molded herself into a woman that others feared. Men and women alike. She had surrounded herself with men who were ready to fight at a moment’s notice, and they had taught her how to fight.
How to use her fists. How to use her knees. How to be the rogue that didn’t care what others thought or what they expected from her.
The problem was, she did care. She had always cared. And she was only now realizing it.
“Rogue, dance with me, baby. ” An arm snaked around her waist, pulling her against a strong male body. Dressed in camouflage and smelling like week-old sweat.
Rogue wrinkled her nose and pushed away with a forced laugh. “Get a shower, Bubba,”
she called back to him. “Soon. ”
It was typical. A few feet away a hand reached out to her, laughter, most of it drunken or forced, echoed around her as the customer requested a dance. A smile and polite refusal, and a stronger dislike for where she was.
