Believe in Me: A Rosewood Novel (49 page)

Had he grown prematurely old? he wondered as he shouldered his way to the bar. No, he had nothing against a female doing a sizzling hot erotic grind on a countertop. He simply wanted the female to be Jordan. And he wanted a private show. For his eyes only. These women did nothing for him. They seemed ridiculously young—girls, really.

It was impossible to spot the bartender through the thicket of legs strutting up and down the length of the bar. As he came nearer, one pair of legs bent so their owner could bring her bright pink, skin-tight tank top down to eye level and the guys could ogle her push-up bra as they catcalled and whooped their appreciation. Owen’s gaze was probably the only one that traveled farther north, to see vivid green eyes framed by short, bleached blond hair.

Oh, shit.

If there was a bright side to his discovery, it was that Jade seemed as horrified as he. Her face went white then bright red with embarrassment. He saw the second she decided to brazen it out. Assuming a haughty expression, she looked past him. Her gaze on the beer-drunk, lust-addled men leering up at her, she twisted and shimmied her very fine underage body to the music’s beat.

Jade was deluded if she thought he’d let her get away with pretending he was invisible. He grabbed her wrist as it swung past him.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Jade?”

She made a futile attempt to shake him loose. “Let go. You’re not supposed to touch the dancers. Go away. I’m in the quarterfinals. I have a bet with Blair that I can make it to the final round.”

“What’s the prize? Honorable mention in the police blotter? For Christ’s sake, you’re seven—”

“Pipe down, will you? Are you
trying
to get me in trouble?” She was wiggling her hips in her half-crouch as she spoke so it looked like she and Owen were doing a weird version of the Lindy Hop.

“Why try when you do such a superb job yourself? Come on, get down from there, right now.”

“No way.” Again Jade tried to free her arm. “Blair and the others will think I’m a total wuss if I back out now.”

“Hey, bud, let the girlie dance.” A guy reeking of beer suggested in a not-too-friendly tone. “She’s the one I’m rooting for.”

“Sorry, her dancing days are over. Great fan club you’ve got, kid.”

Jade blushed but continued wiggling her hips. Her admirer started clapping, but was either too stupid or too drunk—probably both—to follow the beat.

Owen tried again. “Jesus, Jade, do you have any idea what you’re risking?”

Beer-brain laid a meaty hand on Owen’s shoulder, jerking him around. “I don’t think you heard me right.” His face was a deep red. “I told you to let the girlie dance. I want to see her shake those titties.”

From behind, Owen heard Jade retort, “I am not a ‘girlie’!”—the first bright thing she’d uttered. Unfortunately he couldn’t follow up on that remark and point out that in that case maybe she should get the hell down from the bar’s counter because Beer-brain’s other hand was balled into a massive fist, its destination his face.

Owen ducked, then came up with a right hook into the guy’s jaw, the shock of which felt like he’d tried to slug a brick wall. It had about as much effect, for the guy merely stumbled back a step and shook his head, raising both fists. Then Owen knew he was about to feel a whole lot worse.

The next punches landed. He saw stars and tasted blood and heard shrieks. But he wasn’t going to let Jordan’s little
sister get into more trouble, so a brawl seemed the only solution—not that he had much choice. The guy obviously liked pummeling the bejesus out of people. The only advantage Owen had was that he hadn’t been drinking all night or, if the size of this guy’s gut was any indicator, every night for the past ten years. It allowed him to dodge a number of blows and land a couple of decent ones. When one of them made the guy stumble backward into a now-empty barstool and lose his balance, landing on his rear in a heaving sprawl, and when he didn’t seem inclined to rise to his feet to resume the fight, Owen could have wept tears of joy.

Instead he hung his head, trying to catch his breath.

“Owen! What the hell?” Jesse’s voice was filled astonished concern.

He straightened and winced as his body registered what a good job the guy had done hammering it. “One of the dancers is Jordan’s kid sister. And I mean kid.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Exactly.” He nodded, even that small move painful. “We’ve got to get her out of here before the cops come.” Jade, finally showing some brains, had jumped off the bar. He spotted her standing off to the side, looking miserable and sullen.

“Uhh, too late for that.”

So that was the noise: sirens. The police had responded awfully fast. Too fast, he realized. They had to get Jade out now. “There’s a side exit.” Then, giving Jade a hard look, he said, “Come on.”

Unfortunately, a police officer was waiting on the other side of the door. Under the bright floodlight, the officer’s sharp gaze zeroed in on Owen’s face, which, from the feel of it, was already swollen, then on Jade’s skimpy top and tight, fashionably ripped jeans.

He moved in front of them. “Evening. I’m Officer Cooper.”

Beside Owen, Jade went stiff as a poker. Suddenly Owen recalled the name of the Warburg police officer Margot and Jordan mentioned so often, the one to whom Jade had sent
doughnuts and pulled God knew what other pranks: Rob Cooper. Maybe this was another Cooper.

“I’d like to ask you some questions. But first, could I see some identification?”

Silently she pulled a plastic card from her rear pocket. Handing it to him, she ducked her head.

He glanced at it, then looked at Jade, his expression impassive as he studied her bowed white-blond head and hunched shoulders. “Jade Radcliffe. I didn’t recognize you, though when the tip came in that there were minors at The Den, your name did cross my mind.” He paused. “Did you get in using this driver’s license or another ID?”

A fine trembling seized her as she went to her other pocket and withdrew a second card.

He took it and read, “Rachel Hammond, age twenty-one, and it seems that you attend the University of Tennessee. Fancy that.”

Oh, hell.

Jade crossed her arms in front of her, doubtless trying to hide the fact that her trembling had redoubled.

“You been drinking, Jade—or do you prefer to be called Rachel?”

“No,” she croaked with a quick shake of her head.

“We’ll have to see about that.”

Officer Cooper must really have it in for Jade, Owen thought. At the police station, he’d dealt with Owen straight away, sticking him with a two-hundred-dollar ticket for disorderly conduct. While it embarrassed the hell out of him to be slapped with a fine by someone at least ten years younger than himself and then tersely instructed to avoid bar fights in the future, Owen consoled himself with the thought that Beer-brain, also known as Howie Driscoll, was going to be appearing before the judge. It turned out he’d had previous run-ins with the Warburg police. From
the sound of his protests, he was looking at something a lot stiffer than a ticket.

But after Cooper had meted out the respective fines and summonses and informed Owen he was free to go, he had gotten a call on his cell. Owen had seen him talking to another officer, and then he’d disappeared. And he had yet to reappear.

It was possible that this was part of Jade’s punishment. Even though she’d passed the Breathalyzer test and hadn’t driven to the bar, Owen figured Cooper probably wanted her to sweat it out by having her sit there, uncertain of her fate. The wait was taking its toll.

Of course he hadn’t left Jade. The kid’s face was leached of color, and beneath the light jacket he’d lent her, she was shaking with fear. Fear that was probably mixed with a good bit of self-loathing.

From the fact that no other teens were populating the station, it was obvious that Jade’s so-called friends had ditched her at The Den. Owen had a hunch they might also have set her up, placing the anonymous tip that brought the police and Jade’s favorite officer to the scene. He bet that thought was going through Jade’s mind, too. But Jade was too smart not to realize that she’d brought this mess on herself by seeking out their questionable company.

A part of him felt sorry for her. But it was a pretty small part. Mostly, he was pissed and hurting from all the bruises blooming over his face and body. So as the clock ticked and they sat on plastic chairs and continued to be ignored by every official in the place, he decided to devote a few minutes giving her a long-overdue chewing out. So what if it wasn’t his place. He was sick and tired of what she was doing to Jordan and the kids.

“I’m curious, have you spared a single thought to what your dogged determination to screw up your life is doing to your family?” he asked conversationally.

Her attitude was all belligerent defiance. “You don’t know anything about any of this, so why don’t you butt out?”

“Actually I do know something about it. You’re reacting to whatever you read in your mother’s diary. A lame excuse, Jade.”

“I disagree, so maybe you can press the stop button now.”

“Sorry, I’m out two hundred bucks and have a number of nasty bruises thanks to Howie, your number one fan, so the least you can do is listen.”

She shook her head but refrained from any smart-aleck comment.

“Maybe you’re right, and your mother was a lousy wife, a lousy mother, even a lousy human being. But I get the feeling you’re so busy trying to hurt yourself in an effort to get back at a dead woman, you’re no longer able to remember what she really was like. Because your mother must have done a couple of things right. You’re as smart as a whip and a fairly cool human being—that is, when you’re not intent on destroying your life and tearing apart the people who love you. You know, your sisters are really nice women, and you’ve got two nieces and a nephew who adore you. Do you even realize how lucky you are to be loved so much? Do you realize how stupid it is to put them through this kind of pain?”

As guilt trips went, Owen considered the one he’d just laid on Jade pretty damn fine. It had a special weight for being true.

“You’re treating the people who love you like crap, Jade. While Jordan and Margot may understand the underlying reasons, while even Ned’s going to forgive your spoiled-brat behavior, what do you think Kate, Max, and Olivia are making of the fact that you won’t give them the time of day?”

When she seemed to shrink inside his jacket until she was about Kate’s size, he figured that some of what he’d said must have resonated.

Deciding that she’d been lectured enough for one night, Owen fell silent, and so they sat in tense misery, Jade brooding
over her current screw-up and he trying his best to ignore how much it hurt every time he breathed, when an officer approached. “Jade Radcliffe?”

She nodded and rose to her feet.

“Your sister’s been contacted. She’s coming down.”

“What’s going to happen to me?”

“I’ll discuss that when your sister gets here.”

“Where’s Officer Cooper?”

“He had to leave. A family emergency.”

Margot had probably broken the law herself, making her car fly down to the station. Entering the building mere minutes later, her steps faltered, then quickened when she saw him. She rushed over, squeezed his hand, and whispered “Thank you” to him, before wrapping her arms about her sister in a fierce hug.

Stepping back, she wiped her face with her hands and then dried them on her white jeans. “There, now that I know you’re safe, I can say this: damn it, Jade, how could you be such an idiot?”

“I was only dancing.”

“In the sketchiest bar in town. With a fake ID. Don’t tell me you don’t know that’s identity theft. They can nail you for that. Big time. Where’d you get the ID?”

“Blair had an extra one she lent me. The picture didn’t look like me, but the guy at the door who was carding barely glanced at it.”

Not surprising, Owen thought. The guy was probably looking his fill at Jade.

“Oh, God. What were you
thinking
? You must have a guardian angel looking after you, Jade.”

Jade couldn’t mask her surprise at Margot’s statement.

“Yeah, you heard me right. Because as bad as this is, do you have any idea what could have happened to you if Owen hadn’t been there?”

Jade dropped her gaze. “I’m sorry.”

Margot was shaking her head, her lips pressed tight in an effort to control herself, when the officer who’d spoken to Jade earlier came over. “Margot Radcliffe?”

“Yes.”

“Officer Craig Lewis. Could you and your sister come with me?”

“Of course. Owen, can you … would you mind waiting for us?” With her 100-percent-proof beauty, Margot usually radiated the confidence and strength of an Amazon. Now her eyes were as anxious and frightened as her little sister’s.

“I’ll be here.” He settled back down on the chair.

The dinner at The Coach had been delicious, the atmosphere pleasant and sophisticated, and Tim Mitchell was a perfectly nice man. But Jordan was wretched.

Tim was laboring under false pretenses. It was clear by the time they ate their crab cake appetizers just how serious his interest in her was. It was also plain that he expected his feelings to be reciprocated.

Unfortunately she couldn’t summon an ounce of interest.

When Tim smiled, it was just a flash of teeth, when his hand brushed hers, or grazed her back, she felt nothing. No strange flutter, no electric shiver, no rocketing of her pulse. Nothing but embarrassed awkwardness.

Because he wasn’t Owen.

They’d finished dessert, and Tim had signed the check, but he seemed in no hurry to leave, requesting a refill on his coffee and continuing their conversation with undiminished enthusiasm.

“So Hawk Hill’s nearly finished?”

“Yes. We’re just waiting for a few more pieces to be delivered. Owen’s still working on the barn but that shouldn’t—”

“How many stalls will it have again?”

“Six.”

“That’s a nice-size barn for a private home.”

“Yes,” she said. “I don’t think Owen’s going to have a problem selling Hawk Hill, even in this soft a real estate market.”