Page 110 of Panty Dropper

CHAPTER 47

Billy

Walking through the doors of Firefly’s small police station without cuffs on was a welcome change of pace. I’d never been picked up for anything serious. Joyriding when I was a teenager, drunk and disorderly after graduation. Things of that nature. I’d cleaned up my act after I’d taken over operations at the bar, but stepping foot into this building again was bringing back memories of my misspent youth.

“Well, hello, there, Billy Comfort. I swear, if you aren’t a sight for sore eyes.”

I turned my head toward the silky purr. Well, damn, speaking of blasts from the past…

Sitting at the reception desk, wearing a red blouse as tight and low-cut as the one she’d worn the night I brought her home, was…Sharon? Cheryl?

Dang it. This was exactly why I’d always employed the darlin’-baby-honey rule. Names run together. Endearments never fail.

Until I’d met Reagan. I turned to look at her and noticed the only tell that she had any reaction at all to the woman behind the counter was that her lips were slightly pursed the way they’d been yesterday morning up at Harlan’s place when I was sandwiched between two very friendly women. I’d never been a fan of jealousy, but I had to admit, seeing Reagan affected by other females’ attention toward me was kind of adorable. Then again, everything Reagan did was adorable.

I turned back to Sharon…Cheryl…Shannon…Shasta? Could it be Shasta?…and said, “Thanks, good to see you. I was hopin’ maybe you could help us out.”

She leaned forward, showing off what her mama gave her and her shirt was accentuating. “Anything for you, Billy Comfort. Anything.”

The tone she used when whisper-talking those words, not to mention the wink she topped them off with, made it really clear what it was she meant by anything. Hell, not that the words themselves left all that much to the imagination.

I slid an arm around Reagan’s waist. I wanted to make it abundantly clear that I was not on the menu. “Thanks. I’d like to get a copy of the police report from my mama’s accident.”

The blonde sat back, her hawk-like gaze traveling back and forth between me and Reagan until she finally rolled her eyes. “Full name and date of the incident.”

I gave her the information and she began to type on the computer. Her face looked more put out than anything else as her acrylic nails tapped on the keys. But after a few keystrokes, a crease appeared between her brows and she stared at the screen, bewildered. She moved her mouse, clicking on something else before typing once again.

“Um. I…don’t have access to it.” She stood. “You’re gonna have to talk to the chief.”

She strode off out of sight down the hall, and Reagan looked up at me. “This is a pretty straightforward request. Strange that it needed to go through the chief.”

“Agreed.”

She grinned. “We may have been more successful if you’d just walked in here alone and used your considerable charm.”

I knew she was joking around, but something about the thought of it actually made me uneasy. I didn’t like the idea of flirting or “using my charms” on anybody but Reagan.

Chief Dawson walked out, then. Or more like sauntered out, a smirk planted firmly on his extremely punchable face.

He’d been a condescending jackass when we’d had run-ins in the past. Of course, I’d been a teenage punk…but it looked like only one of us had moved on from our past personas.

“Well, well. I knew I’d see you walk back through my doors one day, Comfort. I just never thought it’d be under your own steam.”

I forced myself to smile, even though my teeth were gritted together so hard I thought my jaw might just snap. Still, I didn’t need to make Dawson my enemy. Not over some stupid petty shit like his fucking terrible personality.

Eye on the prize. Remember why you’re here. This is about Mama. Not you.

All good advice, delivered to me straight from the rational part of my brain. Also, of course, all of it was easier said than done…but I was determined.

“Good to see you, too, Chief. How’s the family?”

“Real good. Real, real good. I was real sorry to hear ’bout your daddy. James Comfort and I may not’ve always seen eye to eye, but he was a real fine man, come down to it. Sorry I couldn’t make the service, but I heard the reception was…colorful.”

I stiffened. My father’s death was still a raw subject with me, and hearing his name in Dawson’s mouth made my gut churn with rage. Still, I was here for a purpose and wouldn’t let myself get derailed. “Thank you.”

Dawson crossed the room to me, taking his time. When he reached me, he put a paternal hand on my shoulder, twisting his face into a mask of fake concern. “Now, son, Sharla here tells me you’re asking about your mama’s accident.”

Sharla!Right. I was close.

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