bunch beneath his shirtsleeve. He needed to do some of that yoga stuff. A cool, proactive mind would help Jayne more than pissed off reactions.
He whipped his sunglasses off, scanned the room, and spotted Everly with some woman having a cozy chat over coffee. His blood burned hot, exploded into rage. So much for the cool, proactive approach.
The dark-haired woman caught his gaze and her eyes narrowed. She spoke directly to Everly, but her words carried, hitting his ears, fueling his anger. “Well, damn. I wasn’t ready to add another civilian to this mess quite yet.”
The woman pushed her cup aside, stood, and faced him head-on. “I’m Detective Reese Bryant, Mr. Steele. Let’s talk.”
Parker leveled his gaze at the detective. “Drew tells me you’ve cut a deal with Jayne but that she’s still being held. I don’t like it. Detective Stephens is unavailable, and I find you sharing a cuppa with magic fingers here.”
Reese arched an eyebrow.
Everly chugged the rest of her latte, slid out of the booth, and pushed past Parker. “You’re being a jerk, Parker.” She dropped the empty cup in the trash with a whoosh of attitude, and stormed outside, the air around her bristling with redheaded indignation.
“I believe we should join Everly, Mr. Steele. This is no place for our conversation.”
Parker pushed through the door behind Bryant. Watching Everly’s pseudo tantrum was almost enough to curb his fury. She was so like Jayne in her ability to take control of a situation with nothing but insolence. He wanted Jayne back. His woman safe. No scars—emotional or physical.
Detective Bryant joined Everly, slipping her a corner-of-the-eye glance that clearly tossed Parker and his black mood into Everly’s hands. But her magic fingers weren’t going to work this time. He wanted Jayne out of jail. Now.
Everly whipped around to confront him, and then cupped his face in her hands. He felt the fight drain from her body, a visible shift in her stance and softening of her face.
“I know you love Jayne. Really. Love. Her. And I get that it’s making you crazy, but we need you to focus here. Jayne needs you to focus.”
Parker jerked away from her hands, escaping those damn fingers that could see into his soul.
She dragged in an audible breath and braced her hands on her hips. “I like you, Parker, and apparently childhood ties are binding, because I’m about to step into the steaming pile of mental manure that’s taken over your brain.”
His eyes narrowed, a cloud of indignation brewing in his gut.
She continued, apparently oblivious to the silent warning. “Detective Joe Stephens is your cousin, your aunt Mary Francis’s son. He was Joe Francis back when, but I’m guessing your Aunt Mary had a second marriage, and he took her new name.”
Poleaxed. The shock hit him head-on. Memories and emotions cut through his scattered plan of attack then fell into place with a resounding thud.
Everly nudged Detective Bryant. “First time I’ve ever seen someone’s thoughts conveyed so clearly without speech.” Then the women exchanged some kind of silent communication that set Parker’s back teeth on edge.
“Yeah,” he said, running his hand through his hair. “Second marriage. We rarely saw them, and I haven’t seen Joe since that summer you stayed with us, when your parents were in—”
“South America. Mom was working on a dig and my dad…I actually don’t know what he was doing, but it had to do with his job. Do you remember anything else about those weeks, Parker?”
“Hold up.” Bryant’s voice halted any further nostalgic problem solving. “Trouble at four o’clock.”
Detective Joe Stephens squealed his nondescript department ride to a stop not three feet from the trio.
Everly grabbed Parker’s arm, her fingernails leaving four half-moon marks on his skin. “Too soon to confront him. Don’t say anything. Find your inscrutable mask, and do not let
He whipped his sunglasses off, scanned the room, and spotted Everly with some woman having a cozy chat over coffee. His blood burned hot, exploded into rage. So much for the cool, proactive approach.
The dark-haired woman caught his gaze and her eyes narrowed. She spoke directly to Everly, but her words carried, hitting his ears, fueling his anger. “Well, damn. I wasn’t ready to add another civilian to this mess quite yet.”
The woman pushed her cup aside, stood, and faced him head-on. “I’m Detective Reese Bryant, Mr. Steele. Let’s talk.”
Parker leveled his gaze at the detective. “Drew tells me you’ve cut a deal with Jayne but that she’s still being held. I don’t like it. Detective Stephens is unavailable, and I find you sharing a cuppa with magic fingers here.”
Reese arched an eyebrow.
Everly chugged the rest of her latte, slid out of the booth, and pushed past Parker. “You’re being a jerk, Parker.” She dropped the empty cup in the trash with a whoosh of attitude, and stormed outside, the air around her bristling with redheaded indignation.
“I believe we should join Everly, Mr. Steele. This is no place for our conversation.”
Parker pushed through the door behind Bryant. Watching Everly’s pseudo tantrum was almost enough to curb his fury. She was so like Jayne in her ability to take control of a situation with nothing but insolence. He wanted Jayne back. His woman safe. No scars—emotional or physical.
Detective Bryant joined Everly, slipping her a corner-of-the-eye glance that clearly tossed Parker and his black mood into Everly’s hands. But her magic fingers weren’t going to work this time. He wanted Jayne out of jail. Now.
Everly whipped around to confront him, and then cupped his face in her hands. He felt the fight drain from her body, a visible shift in her stance and softening of her face.
“I know you love Jayne. Really. Love. Her. And I get that it’s making you crazy, but we need you to focus here. Jayne needs you to focus.”
Parker jerked away from her hands, escaping those damn fingers that could see into his soul.
She dragged in an audible breath and braced her hands on her hips. “I like you, Parker, and apparently childhood ties are binding, because I’m about to step into the steaming pile of mental manure that’s taken over your brain.”
His eyes narrowed, a cloud of indignation brewing in his gut.
She continued, apparently oblivious to the silent warning. “Detective Joe Stephens is your cousin, your aunt Mary Francis’s son. He was Joe Francis back when, but I’m guessing your Aunt Mary had a second marriage, and he took her new name.”
Poleaxed. The shock hit him head-on. Memories and emotions cut through his scattered plan of attack then fell into place with a resounding thud.
Everly nudged Detective Bryant. “First time I’ve ever seen someone’s thoughts conveyed so clearly without speech.” Then the women exchanged some kind of silent communication that set Parker’s back teeth on edge.
“Yeah,” he said, running his hand through his hair. “Second marriage. We rarely saw them, and I haven’t seen Joe since that summer you stayed with us, when your parents were in—”
“South America. Mom was working on a dig and my dad…I actually don’t know what he was doing, but it had to do with his job. Do you remember anything else about those weeks, Parker?”
“Hold up.” Bryant’s voice halted any further nostalgic problem solving. “Trouble at four o’clock.”
Detective Joe Stephens squealed his nondescript department ride to a stop not three feet from the trio.
Everly grabbed Parker’s arm, her fingernails leaving four half-moon marks on his skin. “Too soon to confront him. Don’t say anything. Find your inscrutable mask, and do not let
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