Page 26 of Stilettos & Whiskey
“You’re still mad about that kiss. How about a do-over?” Lucas gave me his killer grin. “Pucker up, sweetheart.”
My temper flared again. I had seen his charming scoundrel act way too many times for it to work on me. I drew my fist back and punched him in the gut. “Not. Interested. Get out!”
“Ow.” Lucas rubbed his stomach. “No can do, it’s my turn to watch you.”
“I’m fine. Get out!”
Nate stuck his head in the room. “Both of you shut the hell up. Lucas’ projectile vomiting was from food poisoning. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
“Un huh, and he couldn’t find the time to tell me that?”
“We were searching for Gemma, remember?” Lucas snapped.
I flinched. God, I still remembered the gut-wrenching fear that we wouldn’t find her in time. And my utter relief when Gemma rescued herself. “I’m not seeing double anymore and the dizziness is gone. So, leave me the hell alone.”
“You’re not interested in our plan to take down the Evans family?”
He had me there. I sat on the bed. “You know I am.”
Lucas’ flirty demeanor vanished, and he was suddenly a no-nonsense cop. “Almost every police agency in the state wanted in on the task force.”
“More dead bodies?”
“That and the Evans family have been terrorizing rural communities, forcing people to sell their land to them. Dirt cheap.”
“Why is this the first we’ve heard about them?”
“The majority of the Evans clan are in law enforcement or have management positions in city government. They’re very good at burying evidence and making victims disappear.”
I scowled. “Was Roger killing people while on duty?”
“It’s a possibility. Sergeant Bergman is going through all his calls and duty logs looking for irregularities.”
Valiantly trying to ignore Lucas’ muscular chest and bulging biceps I stared down at my hands. “Í still can’t figure out why he is fixated on me.”
“Did he ever ask you out?”
Rolling my eyes, I spat, “Hell no. He always acted like Gemma, and I had the cooties. He wouldn’t even look at us or talk to us unless it was absolutely necessary.”
A memory popped into my head, and I groaned, “The bar fight.”
“What bar fight?” A frown shadowed Lucas’s features.
“Gemma and I were having dinner at Billie Bob’s Bar and Grill when these two jerks demanded we dance with them. We politely declined. The bigger idiot grabbed Gemma’s arm and yanked her to her feet. She decked him. Which pissed off his buddy, who swung at her, Gemma ducked, and he punched Todd, the bouncer, instead.
Lucas rubbed his face. “And a brawl started.”
“Well, yeah, Todd crashed into a waitress carrying a tray of drinks which she dumped in this big dude’s lap and all hell broke loose.
A lazy smile played at Lucas’s mouth. “Did you try to stop the fight?”
“Nope. We were off duty and kinda drunk. So, we called 9-1-1.”
“And Deputy Evans responded,” Lucas said drolly.
“Yep. The little turd burst into the bar all puffed up like a banty rooster and got his ass handed to him. Gemma and I had to rescue him, and he wasn’t the least bit grateful.”
Lucas grimaced. “It does explain his hatred of you.”
