Deadly Coincidence (Brantley Walker: Off the Books Book 4) Page 9

“Prediction?” Brantley asked as he steered the truck toward town.

  He turned his attention to the man behind the wheel, admiring Brantley’s profile. “On?”

  “Baz and JJ.”

  Reese thought about the conversation that was about to take place between the detective and the hacker extraordinaire. Considering how emotionally charged the air was when those two were in the same room, anything could happen.

  “I’m not even gonna pretend to know what’s goin’ on with them. Why? What do you know?”

  “Nothin’.” Brantley smirked, cutting his gaze over briefly. “Swear. She’s keepin’ that close to the vest.”

  Yeah, Reese figured. JJ was a lot of things—fun, witty, smart, irritating, even—but she was not one to let many people get too close. And when it came to her feelings for Sebastian Buchanan, she treated them like they were a national secret.

  Granted, Reese had witnessed the train wreck that was Baz and JJ for the past month, had seen how she mooned over the man although she pretended not to notice he was alive. She was delusional if she believed she was fooling anyone. Anyone except for Baz, anyway. For whatever reason, the detective wasn’t picking up on the clues that she was still hung up on him. Which, now that Reese thought about it, probably had something to do with all the moping Baz had been doing since they broke up.

  Reese wouldn’t have had a problem with it except there were only six of them on the task force at the moment, which meant there were very few exchanges taking place when two of those six were going out of their way not to talk to one another. Reese knew Charlie and Trey were feeling the tension because they were the ones forced to share an office. At least Reese and Brantley could get away from them for most of the day since they spent the majority of their time out in the field. And when they didn’t, their offices were now in the house.

  “You didn’t seem surprised Baz stopped by tonight,” Reese told Brantley.

  “No. Not surprised.” Brantley kept his eyes on the road. “I knew he’d break sooner or later.”

  “They’ve gotta figure this shit out,” Reese said on a heavy exhale. “Preferably sooner rather than later.”

  “They will. Eventually. But probably not tonight.” Brantley was shaking his head. “She’s too stubborn. It’ll have to be on her time, when she’s ready.” There was a hint of a smile. “But I figure Baz knows that. He’s just doin’ his part, puttin’ in the effort to prove he’s not like the jackasses she usually goes out with.”

  “You think he’s in love with her?”

  “Oh, yeah. No doubt about it.”

  Reese wanted to say that was fast, but he held his tongue. He certainly wasn’t in a place to pass judgment. Considering how quickly and how hard he’d fallen for Brantley, he’d be a hypocrite to do so.

  “We’re stayin’ till midnight, right?” Brantley asked as he pulled into the packed parking lot of Coyote Ridge’s one and only bar.

  “Yeah.” Reese glanced at him, raised a brow in question. “Why?”

  “Just wonderin’.”

  Finding the parking lot completely full, Brantley got creative, making his own parking space in the adjacent field. Two more vehicles were pulling in behind them, doing the same thing.

  Once the truck stopped, Reese reached for the door handle but came up short when Brantley grabbed his arm, pulled him back.

  He fought his natural instinct to look out the window to ensure no one was watching. It was something that made him feel incredibly guilty—kissing someone you loved in public shouldn’t require forethought—but Reese still did it. Or had the urge to do it.

  Somehow he managed to keep his eyes on Brantley, but it wasn’t easy.

  “I’ll suffer through for you,” Brantley whispered, leaning in, his breath fanning Reese’s lips.

  “Will you?”

  “Yep. I’ll keep my hands and my lips to myself, even. But you’ll make it up to me when we get home.”

  In a daring move, Reese licked Brantley’s lower lip but pulled back quickly. “Deal.”

  Smiling at Brantley’s guttural groan, Reese climbed out of the truck, walked around to meet him. After a trek, they were finally walking into Moonshiners, a place frequented by the residents of the small town, revered by pretty much everyone.

  As far as Reese was concerned, this was a home away from home, a place he felt welcome, one he didn’t mind kicking back and relaxing in. He figured that had more to do with the people than the décor, because God knows the inside could use a fresh coat of … everything.

  He wasn’t sure whether Michael “Mack” Schwartz, the proprietor, had updated the interior since the walls were originally erected, whenever that was. The wood paneling was worn smooth and grayed, the floor the same. Tables and chairs—all mismatched at this point—had seen plenty over the years, but they still remained intact, kept in decent condition.

  Now the bar, on the other hand … that was kept pristine, waxed and shined, with old stools discarded and new ones added whenever they were needed. Since it was the heart of the place, Reese figured Mack probably had an attachment to it.

  Behind the bar tonight, Rafe Sharpe was manning things, a rare smile on his boyishly handsome face.

  “Where’s Mack?” Brantley asked, squeezing into a vacant spot to order a couple of beers to start them off.

  Rafe never stopped moving. “Took the night off.”

  “The sheriff takin’ the night off, too?” Brantley asked, referring to Mack’s husband, Jeff Endsley.

  “Think so.”

  “Seriously? Busiest night of the year?” Reese chuckled. “I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

  “Tellin’ me.” Rafe’s grin widened. “So tip big tonight, will ya?”

  “You know we will,” Reese replied.

  It was strange to see Rafe smiling, much less stringing together more than a couple of words. Since the day Rafe returned to Coyote Ridge, shortly after his brother Rex started major renovations on their family’s home, turning the infamous old farmhouse on Main Street into a bed-and-breakfast, Rafe had been slowly weaving himself into the fabric of the town once again. Not that anyone really knew much about the man who’d disappeared back when he was just a kid. Reese only knew the stories he’d heard, and from what he understood, Rafe, only ten years old at the time, had shot and killed his own father in order to save his brother’s life. It was a fucked-up story, one that had left Reese grateful to have had loving parents growing up.

  “Would you look at this.” The words were spoken in a slow drawl chock full of wonder, surprise, and a hint of amusement.

  Reese turned, finding himself nearly face-to-face with none other than Cyrus Jernigan, Brantley’s ex-fuck-buddy and the bane of Reese’s existence.

  Just like every other time he’d seen Cyrus, his first instinct was to punch the guy in the mouth.

  He refrained.

  Barely.

  “I didn’t know I’d be seein’ you boys tonight,” the man with the goofy grin said, his dark brown eyes pinned on Brantley in that way that pissed Reese off.

  He knew he had no right to be jealous of the fact Brantley and Cyrus used to be friends with benefits. That was all it was according to Brantley, and Reese believed him. However, he knew Cyrus liked to pretend they were still carrying on, mainly to get Reese riled up. As much as he wanted to ignore those intruding stares and the come-hither glances Cyrus projected at Brantley, he couldn’t.

  “Hey, Cy,” Brantley greeted as he passed Reese a beer. “Thought you were in California.”

  “Am. Was.” Cyrus grinned. “Will be. I’m just in town for a couple days.”

  Reese took a swig of his beer, silently willed Cyrus to vanish into the ether, with no luck.

  “You know if Trey’s comin’ tonight?” Cyrus asked, his full attention on Brantley.

  “He mentioned he might,” Brantley told him. “But if I were you, I’d keep your distance.”

  “Why’s that?” Cyrus smirked. “You jealous I�
�ve been intimate with your brother?”

  Brantley snorted. “Not even a little.”

  “Then why’re you warnin’ me off him?”

  Brantley’s response was a wide, knowing grin as he nudged Reese with his shoulder. “See ya ’round, Cy.”

  “Maybe we can catch up,” Cyrus called out when they were walking away.

  “Maybe not,” Reese muttered and heard Brantley chuckle softly.

  Brantley’s tone was meant to reassure when he said, “Nothin’ to worry about there.”

  Reese knew that. He did. But that didn’t mean Cyrus didn’t get on his very last nerve.

  “Did you know Magnus was gonna be here?” Brantley asked from behind him.

  Magnus was sitting at a table, chatting it up with a couple of ladies who were blushing and giggling like he was the most interesting man in the universe.

  “No,” he told Brantley. “Had no idea.”

  As he weaved his way through the room, he found he was still watching the man with the quick smile and the glint in his eyes.

  While some probably considered Magnus attractive, Reese didn’t think that was his most appealing feature. It had more to do with his personality, that easy charm that drew people to him, along with the mixture of vulnerability and determination Reese could see in his eyes.

  Brantley motioned toward an empty table. “Care if he joins us?”

  Reese answered with a nod of his chin, encouraging Brantley to invite him over.

  Brantley cleared his throat, the sound loud enough to have Magnus glancing over. Magnus shot them a surprised but exuberant smile, and he was instantly on his feet, saying his goodbyes to the ladies, who didn’t appear pleased with his abrupt departure.

  “I didn’t know y’all’d be here,” Magnus said in a gravel-laced drawl.

  “Have a seat.” Brantley nodded toward one of the empty chairs. “We could say the same to you. Since when do you hang out in our neck of the woods?”

  “Got a wild hair up my ass. Needed to get outta the house tonight, go someplace exotic.” Magnus gestured toward the bar, grinning, his wide hazel eyes glinting with amusement. “Seemed to fit the bill.”

  “Exotic.” Reese huffed a laugh, took a swallow of his beer. “Never thought I’d hear anyone call Moonshiners that.”

  “Really?” Magnus took a swallow of beer, looked around. “Seems fitting.”

  “Clearly we’re thinkin’ of two different words. By which definition is this”—he waved a hand—“exotic?” Reese challenged, still laughing.

  Magnus’s eyebrows rose as he considered. “All of ’em, I figure. I mean, that picture over there”—Magnus motioned to a palm tree painting in a cheap frame—“kinda gives it that tropical feel. Add in some piña coladas…”

  Reese laughed. “Is that all you need? Palm trees and piña coladas and you’ve got exotic?”

  Magnus shot him a lopsided grin. “Of course.”

  “This comin’ from a guy who thinks a strip club’s exotic,” Brantley commented with a chuckle.

  “Hey,” Magnus laughed, “exotic dancers, right? They’re a real thing. I’ve seen ’em with my own two eyes.”

  Reese barked a laugh.

  Brantley glanced his way, grinned, but Reese was fairly certain he was laughing at Reese’s reaction, not Magnus’s play on words. And damned if he didn’t love when Brantley looked at him like that.

  “Good to see I’m not the only one with extravagant tastes.” Magnus mock toasted with his Bud Light, glancing around the room. “Speaking of … Trey with you?”

  Reese glanced at Brantley, raised an eyebrow. Seemed Trey was the man of the hour.

  That wasn’t the first time Magnus had inquired about Brantley’s older brother since the two of them had been introduced a few weeks ago. In fact, Reese had gotten the impression Magnus was interested. Especially after their last encounter when Magnus was over to work with Tesha and Trey stopped by.

  “He’ll be here,” Brantley said easily, winking at Reese.

  “How’s that work, anyway?” Reese found himself asking Magnus, slightly embarrassed that he’d said it aloud.

  “What’s that?” Magnus lifted his beer to his mouth.

  “You know. You and, uh … your … dating life.”

  Magnus’s lopsided grin was back. “I thought you had your lesson in the birds and the bees, Tavoularis.”

  Brantley laughed. Reese felt himself blush.

  Magnus leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Oh, you mean because I’m bisexual, and Trey’s clearly not?”

  Brantley sobered, still smiling. “Now that you mention it, how does that work?”

  “It’s not like I’m askin’ the guy to marry me,” Magnus answered. “And who knows, maybe Trey’d be interested in—”

  “I’m gonna cut you off right there,” Brantley inserted with a choked laugh. “One, because Trey’s my brother and I’ve got no interest in his sex life.”

  “And two?” Magnus probed.

  “Two, I know my brother. He’s not interested in the ladies. Never has been, never will be.”

  Magnus tilted his beer to his lips. “Good to know.”

  As Reese took another pull on his beer, he watched Magnus. Might just be an interesting night after all.

  *

  Standing outside the barn, mentally preparing himself for the conversation ahead, Baz took a deep breath and keyed in the code to unlock the door. When the lock disengaged, he could hardly hear it over the pounding of his heart and the overabundance of maybes and probablys running through his head at the moment.

  This was the worst idea he’d ever had. Maybe.

  He was going to get shot down. Probably.

  Oh, hell. What was he doing?

  He shook off the negative thought. Backing out was not an option.

  When he woke up this morning, Baz had decided today would be the day he confronted JJ. He’d given her a reprieve for the past few weeks because he could tell she felt bad about standing him up. However, he had fully expected her to approach him. Since she hadn’t and likely wouldn’t, he knew he had to make the first move—bad idea or not.

  Which meant he had to do this.

  More negative thoughts snuck in.

  He would be spending the rest of the night alone. More than likely.

  He could very well be spending the entire next year alone.

  Okay, so that was doubtful, but, hey, it still intruded when it wasn’t necessary.

  Of course, Baz wouldn’t know any of those for certain unless he tried, right?

  That right there was a definite. What was the saying? You didn’t know unless you tried?

  On the other hand, it wasn’t like it could be any worse than the guy who said, Hey, Coca-Cola’s a great product, but why don’t we try something new?

  Here goes nothin’.

  He opened the door, stepped inside.

  “I told you, Brantley, I’m not goin’,” JJ shouted from upstairs. “Might as well give up.”

  Baz let the door close behind him as he headed for the stairs. His stomach twisted, something it had been doing for the past month. Although he was pulling it off, pretending he wasn’t affected by JJ shunning him, there was no denying it hurt. Especially since he’d thought they were making strides in their relationship.

  Of course, if you asked JJ, she’d say they hadn’t been in a relationship at all.

  “Hey,” he greeted when he stepped onto the second floor, stopping with his hand on the rail.

  JJ’s head snapped over, her light green eyes wide. She opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. Nothing came out, but Baz continued to wait, content to just stare. She was by far the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. And no, he wasn’t usually one to wax poetic, but there was something about JJ.

  She looked good tonight, as usual, dressed down, casual, with her shoulder-length dark hair piled haphazardly on top of her head, held in place with a big plastic clip. A few strands had come loose, brus
hing her cheeks, more hanging at the back of her slender neck. The gray University of Texas sweatshirt she wore was at least two sizes too big, covering all those glorious curves. But the jeans… Heaven help him, they were the dark pair, the ones with the rips in the knees, and they molded to her in a way that should be a crime. Her feet were bare, her toenails painted a bright glittery green, and beside her desk was her favorite pair of slippers, the brown suede Uggs with the fuzzy stuff inside.

  “Why’re you here?” she asked, her voice coming out in a harsh whisper as she got to her feet, clearly surprised to see him.

  “Same reason you are.”

  Her eyes narrowed, searching his face as though she was translating his words into a language she understood.

  “Because you’d rather work on New Year’s?” she scoffed. “Doubtful.”

  Baz remained where he was, blocking her only escape path should she decide to run. Knowing JJ, that was certainly something she was considering.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” she stated. “You should be out”—she waved her hand toward the wall—“celebrating with everyone else.”

  “While you’re working? Doesn’t seem fair,” he replied.

  They were at an impasse, staring at one another as though waiting for the other to make a move.

  Finally, JJ spun on her heel, started to pace away. Baz prepared to follow despite the fact there was nowhere to go, but realized it wasn’t necessary when she turned around suddenly and marched back toward him. Her hands went to her hips, and there was a frown on her beautiful face.

  “Why’re you really here?” She took another step forward. “And don’t lie to me.”

  Baz found it interesting that she always tacked that on, although he hadn’t lied to her once.

  “Figured I’d be shitty company if I went out,” he explained. “Since I didn’t want to drag anyone down, thought maybe you’d like some help.”

  JJ glanced over at her laptop, back to him. “I’m not workin’ on anything important.”

  A lie, no doubt. Everything JJ worked on was important. And he knew she spent the majority of her spare time searching for Juliet Prince.

  “Nothing important?” he challenged.

  “No.” Her forehead creased with her frown, her hands still on her hips, only her fingers had started to flex and tap. It was a nervous tic, one he wasn’t sure she knew she had.