Page 41 of All Along The Watchtower

“Entertainment’s a strong word for this torture,” Duck muttered.

Monty sniffed primly. “I prefer to think of it as community building through shared adversity.”

The Gray Beards exchanged looks before bursting into laughter.

“Boy, you could sell ice to an Eskimo.” Pop wiped his eyes. “But maybe next time stick to trivia night?”

“Or bingo,” Cliff suggested.

“What was that about my lumbago?” Milt asked.

I bit back a smile as I moved down the bar, leaving them to their usual bickering. At least they were having fun, even if it was at Monty’s expense.

Half a dozen songs later, I was reasonably sure I was bleeding from the ears. Someone attempted to murder ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart,’ and the sound system squealed with feedback. I ducked behind the bar, as if that would somehow protect me from the assault to my senses. “Dear God, make it stop.”

“Hey, Bree.”

I shot to my feet so fast, I almost cracked my head on the counter.

Ford stood on the other side. I could only blame the crimes being perpetrated by microphone for not noticing he’d come in.My mouth dried up. This wasn’t how we did things. For ten years, we’d perfected the art of careful avoidance, coordinating our movements through mutual friends to ensure we never had to interact. Those were the unwritten rules. But I supposed I blew those all to hell when I got involved with his kid.

As my heart hammered against my ribs, I fell back on my role as bartender. “What can I get you?”

“Just a beer. Dealer’s choice. I’ve heard good things.”

Yeah, he would only have heard because I’d all but banned him from this place. If I felt a little pinch about that behind my breastbone, I ignored it as I pulled him a pint of Island Time. He didn’t grab the open stool nearby.

When I slid the glass across the bar, his fingers curled around it. “Can you get away for a bit? Just back to your office for a conversation. It’s about Peyton.”

Brain trauma from karaoke night had me nodding without hesitation, even though being alone with him was the last thing I wanted. “Monty, Sarah, I’m taking ten. My ears are ringing.”

Ford followed me down the bar and into the hall. The moment he stepped into my office, I shut the door and breathed a sigh.

“You okay there?”

“I don’t know. Do I have brains leaking out my ears? Because I’m pretty sure they’ve been liquified.”

With a serious expression, he leaned in to check both sides of my head. “All clear. I take it the current performance is the rule rather than the exception?”

“I had no idea we had so many tone deaf people on the island. Never again. I don’t care how much it gooses alcohol sales. Never again.” Scrubbing both hands over my face, I did my best to focus on Ford. Then I immediately wished I hadn’t because I was all too aware of my closet-sized office with his 6’ 3” muscled frame taking up more than its fair share.

“Thanks for meeting with me.”

Right. As if we’d set up something formal. Fine, if that was how he wanted to play it, I’d roll with it. “What’s going on? Is Peyton okay? Is she getting hassled at school?”

“Not so far as I know. She’s made a couple of friends, I think. At least some girls who invited her to sit with them at lunch, so that’s a win. No, this is about something else.” He scrubbed a hand down his own face, and I heard the rasp of his skin against the stubble darkening his jaw. My brain immediately remembered the feel of it beneath my own palms.

Focus.

“Carson called us in to the police station today.”

That immediately wiped any memories of the past out of my brain. “What? Why?”

“There were two FBI agents waiting to talk to us. To her.”

I blinked. Whatever I’d expected him to say, it hadn’t been that. “FBI? What would they want with a child?”

“That’s a good damned question. One they didn’t answer. They asked her a lot of questions about Casey’s work. They didn’t clarify, but reading between the lines, it sounded like they might be investigating whoever she worked for. I don’t know if they were trying to determine the extent of Casey’s involvement or what.”

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