Page 12 of The Murder Club

But after feeding the two stray dogs that Lia had taken in, he’d found himself unable to settle down. He wasn’t in the mood for a long walk through the rolling hills that surrounded the house. Or fishing in the nearby pond. And he certainly didn’t want to spend the day sitting in front of the massive television.

Approaching the outskirts of town, Dom slowed to a snail’s pace as he checked the railway crossing. When Kaden told him that he was going to settle in the remote area, Dom had thought his friend had lost his mind. Even if he spent at least part of his time in Vegas dealing with their mutual business, Money Makers, and taking lavish vacations overseas, Dom was certain Kaden would be bored out of his mind in less than a year.

Last night had proved that there were benefits to living in a small town. Not only had the pizza been the best he’d ever tasted—and he’d tasted a lot—but he’d spent one of the most pleasurable evenings he’d had in years doing nothing more than drinking beer in a tiny, overcrowded bar.

Okay, his pleasure hadn’t actually been in the tiny bar. It’d been chatting with Bailey Evans. They hadn’t spent nearly as much time together as he wanted. His phone had pinged with a message that his pizza was ready and Bailey had immediately risen to her feet, bringing an end to their brief encounter. It’d been long enough, however, for Dom to be convinced his stay in Pike was going to be just as interesting as he’d hoped.

He was across the tracks when he caught sight of a familiar woman stomping down the street like she was marching into battle. She was wearing a lumpy sweater over her scrubs, and the stiff breeze had tugged several strands of hair from her ponytail, but Dom smiled in pleasure at the sight of her.

Suddenly he understood exactly why he’d gotten up early and gone into town. He’d been hoping he’d run into Bailey Evans. Just like when he was seventeen and hanging around a pawnshop in L.A. to catch a glimpse of the owner’s daughter, Ashley Haines. Eventually the owner had decided it was easier to hire Dom than continue to try to run him off.

Parking his Land Rover next to the curb, Dom jumped out, his brows lifting as Bailey swept past him as if he was invisible.

“Bailey?” he called out.

He watched her jerk to a halt before slowly turning to face him. “Oh.” Something that might have been relief crossed her face. “Hi, Dom.”

Dom stepped forward, his gaze tracing the lines of her face. Her skin looked pale in the watery morning sunlight and there was an unmistakable dampness on her cheeks.

His excitement vanished as concern rushed through him. “Have you been crying?”

She reached up, angrily wiping away the tears. “I’m fine.” She pinned a smile on her lips. “Are you back for more pizza?”

Dom had a mother and three older sisters. He recognized that tight-lipped smile. It meant she was upset, but she didn’t want to talk about it.

With an effort, he resisted the urge to press for an explanation for her tears and searched for a way to lighten her dark mood.

“Actually I’m on a rescue mission,” he said, not lying. At least not entirely.

She stared at him in confusion. “Rescue?”

“Last night I was playing ball with the dogs and there was a tragic accident with one of the lamps in the living room,” he confessed. There really had been a broken lamp. “Elmer and Nanny are wracked with guilt and I promised them I would find a replacement. I don’t want the dogs to be in the literal doghouse.”

Her smile softened, a portion of her tension beginning to ease at his teasing. “I hate to break the news, but it’s doubtful that Lia bought the lamps in Pike. There really are no stores in town unless you count the local thrift shop.”

He shrugged. “No worries. I’ll—”

His words were cut short as a white van with WARREN LUMBERYARD painted on the side rounded the corner and then screeched to a halt. Parking in the center of the road, a large man with a shaved head and a reddish-blond goatee jumped out and headed directly toward him.

“There you are,” he snarled toward Bailey. “I’ve been looking for you all over town.”

“Hey. Slow your roll.” Dom moved to stand in the man’s path, his gaze skimming over the stranger. He was several inches shorter than Dom and several inches wider, although Dom was willing to bet it was more flab than muscle beneath the work shirt he was wearing with the name “Gage” stitched over the pocket.

The man glared at him with pale blue eyes. “I don’t know who you are, but stay out of this,” he growled before turning his gaze back to Bailey. “You killed my mother.”

Dom ignored Bailey’s sharp breath, his focus locked on Gage. It didn’t look like the stranger was carrying a weapon, but there was no way in hell he was letting the bastard get anywhere close to Bailey.

“Gage, you know that’s not true,” Bailey protested.

“What I know is that my mother died without warning,” Gage snapped, his face ruddy and the stench of alcohol on his breath.

“She was ninety-one years old.”

“She was perfectly healthy,” Gage hissed, spittle collecting on the corners of his lips. He was foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog. “Then suddenly she decides to change her will to leave her life savings to the devoted nurse who’s been whispering in her ear like the serpent in the Garden of Eden and a couple of days later she’s dead and you’re about to inherit a fortune.”

“I had no idea she changed her will.”

Dom frowned. He was vaguely aware of the conversation. It had something to do with Gage’s mother dying and naming Bailey in her will. Probably something that happened quite frequently at a nursing home. His only concern at the moment was making sure the bastard didn’t act on his obvious frustration.

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