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“Grandpa Mean Bull is here,” he whispered in her ear.
“Grandpa Mean Bull?” She pulled back to look at the little dude. What was that about?
Looking worried, Jason bit his bottom lip and nodded.
So both of the Wentworth men had pet names for the head of the clan. Despite his bad press, Kelly looked forward to meeting the old shit.
“Yeah, I heard we had a visitor.” She stood. “You go on now. I’ll be right down.”
But Jason hesitated, obviously wanting to say something. Finally he blurted, “Grandpa Mean Bull is hungry.”
She laughed and said, “So am I. Now scoot so I can change clothes.”
When Jason had disappeared, Kelly reached inside the closet for the gun locker, but quickly withdrew her arm and stared at the top shelf.
Her small safe had been moved at least a foot to the left and turned sideways. She was super careful with her gun and knew exactly how she’d left its locker. Fortunately, she always made sure to never leave the numbers on the combination that would open the lock.
She withdrew the box and decided that someone had spun the digits that set the locking mechanism. What was going on here? Did some bozo think she’d left a weapon inside?
Or had Maria moved the locker when she’d cleaned and accidentally changed the digits?
Kelly secured her weapon and placed the safe inside the bottom drawer in the bureau.
She changed into her clean jeans, frowning at how difficult they were to zip up. She put on a bright blue blouse that she believed enhanced the color of her eyes. In the bathroom, she washed her face, released the ponytail she wore at work and brushed out her hair. She found some lip gloss and applied it to her lips.
She stared into the mirror. This was as good as it was going to get.
But she hardly recognized the woman glaring back. It wasn’t just the lip gloss. Good Lord. Her cheekbones weren’t as pronounced as usual.
She slammed the brush onto the vanity, furious with herself for caring what she looked like. A far bigger concern was someone in this house had tried to gain access to her service weapon.
* * *
WHEN KELLY ENTERED the bar, a tall, slim, gray-headed man in his late seventies turned and pierced her with an appraising look that she suspected was meant to intimidate her. Older than expected, but no question here was Trey’s father. Alexander Wentworth had likely once been as handsome as his son.
Trey stood behind the bar. The tense set of his chin and the rigid way he held his body told her he wasn’t happy. In fact, she’d never seen him look so miserable.
Their gazes locked and he mouthed, “I’m sorry.”
“Mommy’s here.” Sitting at the bar, his little legs dangling from a tall stool, Jason held up his arms, a signal that he wanted a hug.
“I presume this is the famous Officer Jenkins,” Senior said as she gave Jason a quick tight squeeze.
“Yes,” Trey said. “Kelly, this is my father, Alexander Wentworth. Dad, this is Kelly Jenkins.”
Kelly held out her hand. “Pleased to meet you, sir,” she said.
Wentworth grasped her fingers in a tight grip. “Are you really?” he demanded bluntly.
“Dad,” Trey said, a warning in his voice.
“Am I really what?” Kelly asked, glancing from Trey to his father.
Senior didn’t release his grip. “Are you pleased to meet me?” He said his words as if he knew she was hiding something, but, oh, man, he was onto her.
Kelly jerked her hand away. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Still gazing at her intently, Senior said, “She does indeed resemble your ex-wife, Trey.”
Kelly shot a glance to Jason. Lower lip stuck out, the child glowered at his grandfather. He looked troubled. Hadn’t Trey explained the situation to his father? Didn’t Senior realize this conversation had to be confusing for the little dude? Like the boy wasn’t mixed-up enough.
Trey handed Kelly a glass of red wine across the bar. “My father has made an unexpected visit to check on Jason.”
“And thank God I did before it’s too late,” Senior said.
“Exactly what does that mean, Father?”
Senior dropped his hand to Jason’s shoulder. The child flinched.
“You know what it means, son.”
