“She lost her damn mind, that’s what happened!” He flails a hand toward the driveway, where a red sedan is parked, its windshield shattered and several dents visible on the hood. “I told her I didn’t like her cooking, and she—she went insane. She’s possessed by a demon!”
Ryker raises an eyebrow at me. “Some days, this job isn’t so bad,” he says under his breath.
Before I can respond, a woman appears in the doorway, holding a…rolling pin? Yep. A literal rolling pin. She’s short, wearing slippers, and her hair is pulled into a messy bun.
“Damn right, I went insane!” she shouts. “You’ve been complaining about my cooking for fifteen years, Ted. If you wanted a chef, you should’ve married Gordon Ramsey!”
I snort, but Ryker shoots me a warning look. “Ma’am, why don’t you put the rolling pin down, and we’ll have a calm discussion?”
Her eyes narrow. “I’m calm! I’ve never been calmer in my life!”
“Sure,” Ryker says, biting his lips. “And the car just tripped and fell into your rolling pin, right?”
“Exactly,” she snaps, clearly unamused. “It’s a miracle I didn’t aim for his head.”
This time, I don’t even bother hiding my sigh. Ryker nudges me with his elbow as I pull out my notepad.
“It’s going to be a long day.”
I groan in agreement and get to work.
Eight hours later, I need a drink. A strong one.
I push open the door to The Jackalope at five o’clock—too early for the usual drinking crowd and definitely not the go-to spot for a gourmet meal. Lucky for me, I’m in the mood for something greasy, washed down with a generous pour of tequila. Both are specialties at Red Mountain’s beloved dive bar.
Behind the counter, the bartender is a fixture of the place, a woman who’s been running the joint since before I was born. With her feathered hair, bold eyeliner, and oversized hoop earrings, she looks like she’s stepped straight out of the 1980s.
“Hey, cutie,” she greets in her signature deep smoker’s voice. She calls every guy cutie, and every woman princess, so none of us feel too special about the nicknames.
“Hey, Rhonda. How’s it going?”
She smirks as she wipes down the counter with a rag that’s seen better days. “Oh, you know, livin’ the dream, darlin’. Or somethin’ close to it.” She tosses the rag into a bucket and leans on the bar, one eyebrow arched. “What can I get you?”
I settle into a barstool. “Tequila, neat. And whatever’s hot out of the fryer.”
She whistles low. “Tequila before six? Either you’re celebrating or you’ve had a helluva day. Which is it?”
“Let’s just say, I’m not in a celebrating mood,” I reply, avoiding her probing gaze.
After the domestic call in Badger Canyon, it was all downhill from there. If I was superstitious, I’d think it’s because there’s a full moon tonight.
Rhonda shrugs and grabs a bottle of well tequila, pouring generously into a tumbler. She sets it in front of me with a bowl of stale peanuts. “Suit yourself, cutie. But if you’re gonna drink like that, you better be eatin’ plenty. It’s the rule.”
“Since when does The Jackalope have rules?”
She laughs, loud and raspy, as she resumes wiping the counter. “You’re the law, aren’t you? You tell me.”
“Good point.”
She nods her head toward the kitchen. “Tony will bring you out a basket of fries here in a sec.”
I nod my thanks and take a swig of the tequila. The instant is slides down my throat, I regret not opting for the top shelf shit. Nothing quite like the burn of cheap tequila.
The door creaks open behind me, and Rhonda looks to the entrance. “Looks like you’re not the only one who needs a drink this early. Princess, what can I get ya?”
I look over my right shoulder, catching sight of a familiar face.
Ellie.
