Page 17 of The Killer You Know

“Me, too,” Jack says without missing a beat. “I’ll help you find your sister, Baxter. I want to help you bring her home.”

Nikki leans in. “Do you have any idea what she’s running from?”

Before I can answer, another waitress comes by and we put in our order. A platter of the spicy buffalo wings to start off with, and for our individual meals, three of the Penalty Box burgers, medium rare, with fries.

The waitress is about to take off when Jack lifts a finger. “Excuse me.”

Her eyes widen a notch once she gets a better look at him and she licks her lips his way as if Jack was her next meal. And if she plays her cards right, he probably will be. After all, pattern is prophecy.

“Is there any way we could speak to the owner?” he asks, glancing past her at the bar and I cast a glance in that direction, too, in the event I recognize our suspect for the night. I looked him up in the yearbook, then again on his social media sites, which were scant, but it still afforded me a good description of what he looks like.

“I’ll get him right away. Anything for you, honey.” She winks at Jack before taking off.

“Hear that, honey?” I say. “Anything for you.”

His lips curve at the tips as he slices me a glance. “Do you mean it?”

My insides bisect with heat when he says it and that only makes me frown harder at him.

A shadow darkens the table and we look up to see a strapping man who has about ten years on me, dark reddish brown hair, same color scruff taking over his face, and light eyes with dimples high on his cheeks. He grins hard at the lot of us, and something tells me Jackie here is about to wipe the smile right off his face.

13

Special Agent Fallon Baxter

“Welcome to the Penalty Box, folks. Derek Russell, proud owner. What can I help you with?”

“Derek freaking Russell.” Jack hops out of his chair and shakes the man’s hand. “Jackson Stone. We went to Aspen Heights together.”

“Geez.” The man’s eyes widen as he takes Jack in. “Jackie?” He slaps him on the shoulder with a laugh.

“Join us,” Jack invites him and they both fall into a chair. “Dude, you’re the owner here?”

Jack doesn’t say dude. It’s not in his lexicon, or if it is, it’s something he’s been keeping from me. But he’s putting on a darn good show.

Derek laughs. “Yeah, can you believe it? Took over the Penalty Box about a year ago when I got back to Colorado.” He looks to Nikki and me. “I was working construction with my uncle in Connecticut for a while but got tired of throwing my back out of joint. Now I just throw my bank account out of joint.”

We share a laugh at the thought.

“Derek, these are my friends, Nikki and Fallon,” Jack says. “I was just giving them a tour of my old stomping grounds and saw this place, so we stopped in for a bite.”

Jack did grow up in Elmwood. He’s quick on his feet, I’ll give him that.

“Nice to meet you, ladies.” Derek offers us an amicable smile while mapping out our faces a moment too long. Most likely trying to decide which one he’d like to steal for the night. He gives a slight wink over at Nikki.

Winner, winner, Nikki dinner.

I frown over at Jack and he lifts his brows my way as if he were amused.

“It’s been a long time.” Jack sighs over at Derek, his sober personality shining through a bit more. “You going to the reunion?”

“Dude, I would not miss it.”

Dude. It must be a catching condition. But it’s probably best that Jack speaks his language.

“I hear we’re ditching a fancy hotel in lieu of the home of sweat socks.” Derek laughs as he says it.

“It’s true.” Jack shrugs at Nikki and me. “It’s not at a fancy hotel. It’s at the school gym which, by the way, was rebuilt from the ground up a few years back and has more bells and whistles than most hotel ballrooms. Our class voted to abscond the pricey hotel, collect the funds, and donate them to charity instead. It’s our little contribution to the world.”

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