Page 13 of The Harborer
“I’m telling you, I don’t know him. He just walked up to me.”
Bullshit.“Hey, I’ve got another question for you. Have you got your key to Mountain Coffee on you?”
The shift in topics caught Micky off guard, and his eyebrows disappeared under the bill of his ball cap. He recovered quickly, though. “Haven’t got one. What makes you think I do?”
Shane gave him a shoulder shrug. “I just figured since you live with the owner …”
Micky crossed his arms over his chest and stepped back. “Well, you figured wrong. What’s it to you, anyway?”
“Someone’s been moving stuff around in her store. Know anything about that? ’Cause if you do, you need to come clean, or you’re just as guilty as whoever might be trespassing on private property.”
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Boy Scout. And why would I know anything about shit moving around in a coffee shop? Inventory comes and goes, so itmoves.” The way hesaid the word reminded Shane of a lowing cow. “When did this supposedly happen?”
Shane rubbed his jaw. “Yesterday. Maybe before.”
“Ha!” Micky cried triumphantly. “Couldn’t have been me. I was delivering that wreck to GJ.”
Interesting. Shane hadn’t accused him of anything, yet he’d responded as if he had. More interesting was Micky’s cover story.
“Thought it was Durango.”
Micky shook his head. “Grand Junction, man.”
“Huh. That’s interesting because you weregoingto haul it and the driver to Durango,” Shane drawled. “Even more interesting is that when I called the dude this morning, he gave me the name of a tow yard where you dropped the vehicle—right before you dropped him. In Durango. When I called them, they confirmed it was there.” Shane crossed his own arms and waited.
Micky glowered. “You checking up on me now?”
“Nope. I was following up for my report.”
Micky let out a shrill laugh. “Oh, shit! Did I say GJ? I meant Durango. Christ, I get those two mixed up all the time.”
“Yeah, ’cause they’re so close together, and their names sound so much alike.”Asshole.“You told Amy you were in GJ and you’d be late, so which is it? What’s really going on?”
God, he hated liars.
Micky’s mask began to crack, and his face reddened. “What the fuck are you doing listening in on my phone conversations with Amy? Those are private.”
Shane kept his tone steady. “I was standing right there when you called. Your voice carries through the phone. You lied to her.”
“That’s none of your fucking business, O’Brien.”
No, it wasn’t, but Shane pressed anyway. “You stepping out on her? Is that what this is about?” Micky treated eye-fucking like an Olympic sport. Shane had never known him to follow through and two-time Amy, but he’d been wrong about human behavior before. Micky’s shiftiness could have been because hewas messing around with drugs or because he was messing around with other women—or both.
Micky seethed. “That badge doesn’t entitle you to dig into someone’s personal life.”
Shane went on as if he hadn’t heard him. “If you are stepping out on her, she’s going to find out. That girl puts up with a lot of your bullshit, but I doubt she’d stand forthat.”
“Oh, and I suppose you’re the one who’s going to fill her head with lies?”
“She won’t hear any from me. But you know how this town works, and shewillhear about it, which makes you a damn fool.”
“Fuck you and the horse you rode in on, O’Brien.” Micky spun and stomped off.
Sipping his hot brew, Shane tracked Micky with his eyes all the way to Amy’s tent, where she was hefting another tray filled with cups of coffee. Micky bent down, and stupidly, Shane expected him to take the tray from her. Instead, he lowered his face until it was mere inches from hers. Shane couldn’t hear what Micky said, but judging by his expression and Amy’s body language as she pulled back, Micky was lighting into her. Shane opened and closed his fists as he remained rooted where he was, holding his temper as he silently counted to ten … to twenty … to fifty.
He found himself wanting Micky to cross a line that would give him the green light to open up a can of whoop ass on him. He hated this feeling of impotence, of having his hands tied behind his back. Then again, if Micky actuallydidcross that line, that meant he’d be getting physical with Amy. And that was beyond unacceptable.
Amy didn’t seem to need Shane’s help, though. From the fire in her eyes, the tight set of her mouth, and the pleats between her brows, she was giving it right back, her delivery more measured than Micky’s. Whatever she was saying packed a wallop because Micky was growing more flustered by the second.
