regular guy.
Yeah, right. If regular guys were built like action heroes.
But something about the running shoes got to her. They had some miles on them. They made him seem more human, less threatening. Although that was an illusion. Her brother was a key to his case, and she knew full well he’d come here because he wanted something.
Still, the drink offer was tempting. Better than staying holed up in her motel room with Mr. Goodbar, at least. She glanced down at her faded T-shirt and baggy sweatpants.
“Give me ten minutes.”
He gave her that slow smile that made her heart beat faster. “Five.”
chapter five
THIRTY MINUTES LATER, THEY pulled into a crowded parking lot on the outskirts of Fort Stockton. They were in Jon’s personal vehicle, a gray F-150 with oversize tires. They walked to the bar entrance without comment, and he held the door open for her—more of those old-fashioned manners that seemed second nature.
Country music drifted from a jukebox. She’d expected to grab a seat at the bar, but he steered her toward a table in the back beside the pool room. Andrea poked her head in. Judging by the intense look of the men gathered around the table, there was some money riding on the game.
She stripped off her jacket and hung it on the back of her chair, and Jon’s gaze lingered on her stretchy black top. The Kimber was in her ankle holster tonight.
“They have food here if you’re hungry,” he said as she sat down. “The wings aren’t bad.”
A waitress stopped by to take their drink orders. When she was gone, Andrea leaned forward on her elbows. “Look, I should tell you right off, so there’s no misunderstanding. I’m not going to get my brother to wear a wire for you.”
“You mentioned that already.”
He seemed totally relaxed. She hadn’t known him long, but she knew relaxed wasn’t his natural state. He was trying to get her to let her guard down so he could pump her for information.
But two could play at that game, and she liked a challenge.
Their beers arrived, and he looked at her over his bottle as he took a sip. “You talk to your brother yet?”
“I’m seeing him tomorrow.” She hoped.
“Let me know how it goes.”
She kept her expression neutral as she glanced around the bar. Not a bad crowd for a Wednesday night. There were some golf shirts and khakis mixed in with the jeans and cowboy boots, probably tourists en route to Big Bend National Park.
“So.” He leaned back in his chair, as if he was settling in for a story. “Tell me about Pearl Springs.”
“What’s to tell?”
“What was it like for you two growing up there?”
She held his gaze. “I’ve got a question first.”
“Uh-oh. Sounds like a test.”
“It is. How’d you find me in Austin?”
The side of his mouth curved in what might have been a smile. She waited. If he gave the bullshit story about running her plate again, she was officially done giving him information.
She should be done anyway, and yet here she was, having a drink with him. She was in a reckless mood.
“I ran your prints.”
She blinked at him. Her mind scrolled back through their encounter at the Broken Spoke.
“You took the glass?” she asked.
“The twenty.”
“You stole my twenty?”
“Don’t worry, I replaced it. And then some.”
She leaned back in her chair, annoyed. And maybe a little impressed.
“I knew you were a cop,” he said. “I didn’t know what kind. Once I ran it down, I called up your department, thinking maybe I’d chat up your supervisor, find out what you were doing out here.”
“And?”
“And I didn’t get a supervisor. They patched me through to some public-information officer, and I got a canned statement about your being on leave.”
Which had probably piqued his curiosity. Which had probably led him to Google. Which had no doubt provided him with a slew of headlines about her killing a teenager.
She watched his eyes, trying to read them.
“Then I guess you
Yeah, right. If regular guys were built like action heroes.
But something about the running shoes got to her. They had some miles on them. They made him seem more human, less threatening. Although that was an illusion. Her brother was a key to his case, and she knew full well he’d come here because he wanted something.
Still, the drink offer was tempting. Better than staying holed up in her motel room with Mr. Goodbar, at least. She glanced down at her faded T-shirt and baggy sweatpants.
“Give me ten minutes.”
He gave her that slow smile that made her heart beat faster. “Five.”
chapter five
THIRTY MINUTES LATER, THEY pulled into a crowded parking lot on the outskirts of Fort Stockton. They were in Jon’s personal vehicle, a gray F-150 with oversize tires. They walked to the bar entrance without comment, and he held the door open for her—more of those old-fashioned manners that seemed second nature.
Country music drifted from a jukebox. She’d expected to grab a seat at the bar, but he steered her toward a table in the back beside the pool room. Andrea poked her head in. Judging by the intense look of the men gathered around the table, there was some money riding on the game.
She stripped off her jacket and hung it on the back of her chair, and Jon’s gaze lingered on her stretchy black top. The Kimber was in her ankle holster tonight.
“They have food here if you’re hungry,” he said as she sat down. “The wings aren’t bad.”
A waitress stopped by to take their drink orders. When she was gone, Andrea leaned forward on her elbows. “Look, I should tell you right off, so there’s no misunderstanding. I’m not going to get my brother to wear a wire for you.”
“You mentioned that already.”
He seemed totally relaxed. She hadn’t known him long, but she knew relaxed wasn’t his natural state. He was trying to get her to let her guard down so he could pump her for information.
But two could play at that game, and she liked a challenge.
Their beers arrived, and he looked at her over his bottle as he took a sip. “You talk to your brother yet?”
“I’m seeing him tomorrow.” She hoped.
“Let me know how it goes.”
She kept her expression neutral as she glanced around the bar. Not a bad crowd for a Wednesday night. There were some golf shirts and khakis mixed in with the jeans and cowboy boots, probably tourists en route to Big Bend National Park.
“So.” He leaned back in his chair, as if he was settling in for a story. “Tell me about Pearl Springs.”
“What’s to tell?”
“What was it like for you two growing up there?”
She held his gaze. “I’ve got a question first.”
“Uh-oh. Sounds like a test.”
“It is. How’d you find me in Austin?”
The side of his mouth curved in what might have been a smile. She waited. If he gave the bullshit story about running her plate again, she was officially done giving him information.
She should be done anyway, and yet here she was, having a drink with him. She was in a reckless mood.
“I ran your prints.”
She blinked at him. Her mind scrolled back through their encounter at the Broken Spoke.
“You took the glass?” she asked.
“The twenty.”
“You stole my twenty?”
“Don’t worry, I replaced it. And then some.”
She leaned back in her chair, annoyed. And maybe a little impressed.
“I knew you were a cop,” he said. “I didn’t know what kind. Once I ran it down, I called up your department, thinking maybe I’d chat up your supervisor, find out what you were doing out here.”
“And?”
“And I didn’t get a supervisor. They patched me through to some public-information officer, and I got a canned statement about your being on leave.”
Which had probably piqued his curiosity. Which had probably led him to Google. Which had no doubt provided him with a slew of headlines about her killing a teenager.
She watched his eyes, trying to read them.
“Then I guess you
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