If You Hear Her: A Novel of Romantic Suspense (31 page)

Law slid Ezra a sidelong glance. “And you want to parade me around like a monkey in a tuxedo, see if you can see who’s watching?”

“You’re a quick study.” He went to say something else, but a kid crashed into him—a surly kid with angry eyes, a cigarette jutting out of his mouth, and all sorts of attitude hanging from him.

Without bothering to apologize, the kid shoved off Ezra and turned to glare over his shoulder. “I said no fucking way.”

Ezra glanced up and found the object of the kid’s ire.

It was the lawyer from the sheriff’s office.

Jennings. Remy Jennings—Lena’s ex-boyfriend.

“And I said, yes, fucking way, Brody, and as luck would have it …” Remy gave Ezra a narrow glance. “Ezra King, correct?”

“Yeah, but I’m a little busy.”

“This won’t take much time.” A thin smile curled his lips. “This boy is Brody—I believe he did some damage to your property a couple weeks ago. I meant to drag his sorry butt over there to help with the cleanup, but I’ve had my hands full with a case. It’s probably a little bit late, but have you already finished cleaning up the mess he made?”

“Actually, no. Haven’t even started.” Ezra crossed his hands over his chest, studying the sullen boy’s face, although he made sure he could still see Lena and Hope. Law was doing the same thing, he noticed. Watching the women.

Glancing back at Brody, he asked, “How old are you, kid?”

“Fourteen.”

“Huh.” Shooting out a hand, he plucked the cigarette from Brody’s mouth and dropped it on the ground, grinding it under his foot before the boy had even processed what he’d done. “You’re underage.”

“You fucking asshole!”

“Yeah.” Looking back at Remy, he waited.

“Brody’s going to come help with the cleanup—”

“No, I ain’t.”

“Because if he doesn’t, I’m going to make sure that complaint gets drawn up, I’ll make sure it gets signed, and I’ll personally deliver it to my brother,” Remy said, continuing on as if Brody hadn’t spoken.

Aggravated and only listening with half an ear, Ezra tracked Lena and Hope’s progress around the square. Behind the shield of his sunglasses, he was able to watch, without looking like he was watching—a skill picked up during years on the force.

“Will that work?”

Ezra glanced at the skinny kid, let his brain catch up with the conversation. “Right now, my hands are a little too full to worry about dealing with the damage he did.”

“I understand that easy enough. However, he either needs to pay for the damage or fix it himself.” Remy cocked a brow. “Personally, I think it would do him a world of good to fix it himself.”

Personally speaking, Ezra agreed with the lawyer. But he didn’t have time to deal with a pissed-off teenager—even if the kid was going through a bad spot.

The skin along the back of his spine started to crawl and he shifted his glance, focused his eyes once more on Lena and Hope.

They’d stopped dead on the sidewalk. Puck was standing stiff-legged next to Lena, and although it was too far away to be sure, it looked like the dog’s hackles were up.

A chill went down Ezra’s spine.

The dog was protective, but well-behaved. Protective as hell, but he was an easygoing companion. He had to be.

He watched as Lena tugged on the dog’s leash, but Puck wouldn’t budge.

“Law.”

“Yeah. I see it.”

“You ever see him do that?”

“No.”

Remy glanced behind, his eyes following the direction of their gaze, curious. The lawyer was sharp, pinpointed what they were looking at too damn quickly. But Ezra didn’t wait long enough for him to ask any questions. Glancing at the kid, then at Remy, he said, “Once I’m
ready to get to work on the yard, I’ll try to remember to call. But he’ll work and when I say work, I mean he’ll work his sorry butt into the ground.”

Then he and Law started forward.

Puck’s body was all but vibrating under her hand. He was growling, too, a low, warning growl that would have terrified her if she had been on the receiving end of that growl.

“We need to head back to the guys,” Lena said softly, trying not to let her unease show in her voice. Squeezing Hope’s arm, she started to turn around, even though she had a bad, bad feeling about giving her back to anybody. She wasn’t going to keep standing there, either.

A target—

Shit. That’s what she felt like.

A damn target.

Lena didn’t do vulnerable. She’d worked too damned hard to build a life—on her own—and she was proud of the fact that she’d done just that. Vulnerable implied a weakness.

But just then? She felt vulnerable, like a rabbit out in an exposed field, just waiting for a hawk to swoop down.

Eyes … she could almost feel them crawling all over her.

“What’s wrong?” Hope asked, her voice quiet, just the slightest bit shaky.

“Puck.” Now that they were moving away, the dog was willing to move. But for a few minutes there, he hadn’t been willing to go forward, and he hadn’t let her move, either. His body had stiffened and he had stood there, growling in his throat, a low, threatening growl.

It wasn’t directed at her—she knew that.

He’d seen something … someone.

“Come on, boy,” she said, guiding him around as they started down the street. He came along easily, his big
body a solid weight at her side, pressing close as though to remind her he wasn’t about to let her change her mind—or her direction.

“What’s wrong with him?”

Lena turned her face toward Hope, unsure what to say. She licked her lips and finally just murmured, “I’m not really sure.”

She could still feel it, the weight of somebody’s gaze drilling into her back.

“Something, or somebody, back there bothers him. He doesn’t want me near whatever, whoever it was.” She felt Hope’s intention and she tightened her grip. “Don’t look back. Whoever it is. Don’t look back. There’s a good chance they won’t pay much attention to me,”
liar
, “or Puck, but don’t let anybody see you looking for them.”

She lied. She knew she lied. Whoever had been watching her was paying way too much attention to her.

But that person wouldn’t see her as a threat. It wasn’t like Lena could pick somebody out of a lineup. No, he might be watching Lena with burning interest, but he also would have seen Hope and if he thought Hope might have seen him …

“Shit,” she whispered. Her stomach was jumping, knotting with fear.

What in the hell was going on?

She heard Hope swallow, heard the unsteadiness in the other woman’s voice as she said, “I see Law and Ezra. They are heading our way—fast. Law looks pissed. Ezra … he, uh … he’s got his cop face on.”

“Then he’s pissed, too.” Lena didn’t even have to see him to know that.

Odd, how she could so easily peg him, how well she already knew him.

The men were in front of them twenty seconds later. She all but felt the force of Ezra’s personality beating at her, the heat of him, his concern … everything that
made him who he was. His hands cupped her face, arched it up to meet his.

To all the world, it might have looked like a lover’s kiss … and it was.

But nobody other than Hope or Law could have heard his softly whispered, “What’s wrong?”

Lena rubbed her lips against his. “I don’t know. Puck … he just all of a sudden stopped. He was growling. I reached down to touch him and his hackles were all up. He doesn’t act like that, Ezra. Ever.”

“Actually, he sort of did.” He stroked his thumb over her cheek and then slid his hands down to her shoulders, rubbing at them restlessly. “That night at Law’s. Remember how he acted? He didn’t want to get out of the car. He kept staring into the trees.”

“Like somebody was there … or had been,” she murmured. She swallowed, her stomach crashing to her feet. And somebody had been there … long enough to leave a woman’s lifeless body behind.

“This was worse, though,” Ezra said.

“Yeah.” Crouching down by Puck, she stroked a hand down his head, scratched him behind his ears. He whined low in his throat. “Shhh. It’s okay, boy. It’s okay. Maybe he saw him, or smelled him.”

Law’s voice was a low, threatening snarl. “Who?”

“The same guy he smelled that night.” She rose. Her hands were shaking, she realized. Sweaty and shaking. She was afraid. It fucking pissed her off.

Law brushed past her. Reaching out, she caught his hand. “Where you going?”

“Just want to take a look around.”

“And look for what? And how will you manage to do it without looking conspicuous?” Lowering his voice, Ezra said, “If there’s a chance he’s here, and you go looking around, you’re doing it with a big fat warning sign on your forehead. Be smart. Okay?”

The last thing Law wanted was to be smart. Lena knew him too well. But in the end, he relented. She had to wonder how much of that had to do with her and Hope, though. If it was just him, she suspected he might prowl the town until he found something; no. Someone.

Resting a hand on her belly, Lena said, “Ezra, I know you want to sit around town for a while. And I’m sorry. But I really, really want to get out of here.”

Hell. What she wanted was to go home, climb in her bed with Ezra next to her, cuddle up and just stay there.

But somehow, she knew that wasn’t an option.

“You can’t be serious, Uncle Remy,” Brody snapped.

Remy wondered if the kid had realized that he had actually called him “uncle.” It had been months, maybe even a year … longer since he had done that. Reaching up, he grabbed the pack of cigarettes from Brody’s hand before the kid could shake one loose.

He shoved them in his pocket, crumpling the flimsy pack in his fist. “Yes, Brody, I am serious. Dead serious. And by the way, if you don’t quit smoking, I’m getting serious about a couple of other things, too.”

“Hell. You used to smoke when you were a kid. What the fuck is the problem?”

“Part of the problem? I’ll tell you.” Stepping closer to the teenaged boy—already so close to being a man, yet still just a kid—he reached up and caught the gold chain that peeked out from under the ragged neckline of the boy’s black T-shirt.

It held a gold cross. It had belonged to Brody’s mother. “Your mom just died of cancer, Brody. Her dad died of cancer. And here you are smoking. What are you trying to do, break your dad’s heart?”

For about two seconds, the sweet kid Remy remembered seemed to stare back at him—sad, angry, young,
and so vulnerable, but then he was gone. “Not like he gives a fuck anyway.”

As the teen stalked off, Remy pulled the mangled pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and studied them. He’d quit smoking ten years ago. But there were times when he really craved it. Right now? One of those times.

Tossing the cigarettes into a nearby waste receptacle, Remy was about to head back to his car. He had plenty of work he had to get done. Plenty.

A familiar, dark red head of hair caught his eye and he found himself studying Lena’s averted profile. Law Reilly and Ezra King were with her. So was another woman. She looked vaguely familiar. A breeze kicked up, whipping her long brown hair around her shoulders. That was all it took to trigger the memory.

The square. Prather. The bookstore.

Standing next to Lena’s long, leggy form, she looked delicate. Delicate had never really done much of anything for Remy. So why was his mouth going dry?

She reached up and caught her hair in her hand, trapping it in a loose tail. Reilly edged closer, angling his head down to talk to the woman. There was something intimate between them—a connection, Remy realized.

Okay. Now his mouth was dry, and he was feeling oddly … jealous.

Scowling, he shoved his hands in his pockets and turned away. He didn’t have time for this shit.

He had to be in court on Monday and there was way too much work to be done still.

Halfway to his car, he damn near collided with Dwight Nielson. The sheriff looked tired, distracted. Worried.

He looked like he had aged ten years overnight.

With a sinking sensation in his gut, Remy plastered a fake smile on his face. This better not be about Hamilton. Even as he thought it, logic tried to step in.
Can’t be. You would have been called
.

Remy just couldn’t think of too many things that would put that look on the sheriff’s face, though. The man was pissed off, running on fumes and emotion. But if anything major had happened, Remy would have heard about it through the gossip grapevine. Hamilton was the only big thing going on right now.

“You look like you had a rough night.”

Nielson glanced at him. The faint twitch of his lips didn’t even pass for a smile. “Rough doesn’t even describe it.”

A car rumbled past and out of habit, when Nielson glanced at it, Remy did the same. He saw Lena and caught a glimpse of the dark hair of the mystery lady in the backseat.

Who was she?

Hooked up with Reilly somehow?
In for disappointment there, sweetheart. He’s stuck on a woman who doesn’t realize he’s got a dick
.

Law Reilly wasn’t ever going to stop mooning over Lena.

Shoving those thoughts aside, he looked back at Nielson, only to find the sheriff tracking the car’s path with his eyes until it disappeared around the bend of the road. The dark look in the man’s eyes suddenly had Remy’s instincts swinging into full alert.

“So … what’s going on?”

Nielson’s gaze slanted his way. “Meaning …?”

“Well, you look like shit. You’re looking at Lena Riddle like she’s a key witness.” Remy angled his head and counted the patrol cars in front of the municipal building. “And I’d say you’ve called in every part-time deputy you can get your hands on.”

Blowing out a sigh, Nielson slicked a hand back over his bald scalp.

“Shit. This is going to hit the fan in the next little while or so anyway.”