man I was to have such a looker for a wife.”
Then he glanced at Billy. “And he’s always getting’ into some sort of trouble or another. You’d think he’d be just the opposite with the town sheriff for a father.”
Colt couldn’t believe what he’d just been told. He shook his head, realizing that any one of these bastards could be the culprit, or none of them at all. There was no evidence to prove anything. Just a family torn apart by the senseless murder of a woman they loved more than life itself.
Jack approached and put his hand on Roger’s shoulder. “Ready to go, Dad?”
Roger glared at Jack, then at the bartender. “Aw, dammit, Frank. Why’d you have to go and call Jack again?”
“Because you’re three sheets to the wind, old-timer,” Frank replied gruffly. “Now go home and sleep it off.”
“Hey, Colt.” Jack sounded tired.
Colt wondered if Jack was tired from working hard, or tired of being designated driver for his drunken father. He kept the conversation to a minimum for Jack’s sake. “See you tomorrow, Jack.”
Jack gave a quick nod and headed for the door.
Roger stood and unsteadily followed his son outside.
Colt felt bad for Jack, remembering all too well what it was like to have an alcoholic father — though the burden of looking after him had been a weight his mother had borne alone, along with the foul-mouthed obscenities he’d spat at her when he’d gotten angry.
He never knew what had caused his father to jump from the occasional drink on his days off to drinking every night ’til his death. His father’s drinking was probably the reason he was hardly ever home as a teenager — always trying to keep himself busy with friends and football. And though his parents appeared the happy couple, he seriously doubted that, if they were alive today, they’d still be married. After all, no woman would be crazy enough to endure such treatment for the rest of her life. Would she?
He turned his attention back to Billy and Amy. His heart stopped when he noticed the booth sat empty. “Shit.” He left his half-drunk beer and bolted from his stool to the front door. He scanned the parking lot, looking for Billy’s truck.
Jack drove by and waved.
Colt waved and walked around to the side of the building to see if the truck was there. The parking lot was dark and empty.
“Dammit!” He made a beeline for his own truck and climbed in. He didn’t think Billy would be stupid enough to take another date to the same desolate property across from his farm, but he decided to look there anyway. When he finally reached it, he traveled the dirt road until it ended, but found no sign of Billy or Amy.
“Damn!” He hit the steering wheel in frustration and drove home.
EIGHT
Wearing only a smile, Brielle gathered her pile of clothing and tiptoed up the stairs. She hadn’t planned on waking up two hours before dawn to sneak into Colt’s house to surprise him with the wanton appetite he’d awakened in her, but her sensual dreams about him had left her aching for more.
She set her clothes on the upstairs hallway floor and crept into Colt’s bedroom, trying not to wake him. The dim moonlight allowed her to see through the darkness just enough to make out his muscular silhouette, sprawled naked as a jay bird atop his sleeping bag. His breathing was deep and steady. A warm gentle breeze wafted through the open window.
With anticipation of the sensual molding of bodies they had shared the day before, she crossed the room and lay down next to him and carefully laid her head on his chest. She wasn’t quite sure what to call their relationship at this stage. She hadn’t seen him since five o’clock yesterday, when Jack had carelessly cut himself with the saw while cutting a two-by-four for Colt. The wound wasn’t very long, but it was deep enough for stitches. So instead of enjoying a first date, Brielle was stuck driving her brother to the emergency room.
Colt stirred, a slight smile
Then he glanced at Billy. “And he’s always getting’ into some sort of trouble or another. You’d think he’d be just the opposite with the town sheriff for a father.”
Colt couldn’t believe what he’d just been told. He shook his head, realizing that any one of these bastards could be the culprit, or none of them at all. There was no evidence to prove anything. Just a family torn apart by the senseless murder of a woman they loved more than life itself.
Jack approached and put his hand on Roger’s shoulder. “Ready to go, Dad?”
Roger glared at Jack, then at the bartender. “Aw, dammit, Frank. Why’d you have to go and call Jack again?”
“Because you’re three sheets to the wind, old-timer,” Frank replied gruffly. “Now go home and sleep it off.”
“Hey, Colt.” Jack sounded tired.
Colt wondered if Jack was tired from working hard, or tired of being designated driver for his drunken father. He kept the conversation to a minimum for Jack’s sake. “See you tomorrow, Jack.”
Jack gave a quick nod and headed for the door.
Roger stood and unsteadily followed his son outside.
Colt felt bad for Jack, remembering all too well what it was like to have an alcoholic father — though the burden of looking after him had been a weight his mother had borne alone, along with the foul-mouthed obscenities he’d spat at her when he’d gotten angry.
He never knew what had caused his father to jump from the occasional drink on his days off to drinking every night ’til his death. His father’s drinking was probably the reason he was hardly ever home as a teenager — always trying to keep himself busy with friends and football. And though his parents appeared the happy couple, he seriously doubted that, if they were alive today, they’d still be married. After all, no woman would be crazy enough to endure such treatment for the rest of her life. Would she?
He turned his attention back to Billy and Amy. His heart stopped when he noticed the booth sat empty. “Shit.” He left his half-drunk beer and bolted from his stool to the front door. He scanned the parking lot, looking for Billy’s truck.
Jack drove by and waved.
Colt waved and walked around to the side of the building to see if the truck was there. The parking lot was dark and empty.
“Dammit!” He made a beeline for his own truck and climbed in. He didn’t think Billy would be stupid enough to take another date to the same desolate property across from his farm, but he decided to look there anyway. When he finally reached it, he traveled the dirt road until it ended, but found no sign of Billy or Amy.
“Damn!” He hit the steering wheel in frustration and drove home.
EIGHT
Wearing only a smile, Brielle gathered her pile of clothing and tiptoed up the stairs. She hadn’t planned on waking up two hours before dawn to sneak into Colt’s house to surprise him with the wanton appetite he’d awakened in her, but her sensual dreams about him had left her aching for more.
She set her clothes on the upstairs hallway floor and crept into Colt’s bedroom, trying not to wake him. The dim moonlight allowed her to see through the darkness just enough to make out his muscular silhouette, sprawled naked as a jay bird atop his sleeping bag. His breathing was deep and steady. A warm gentle breeze wafted through the open window.
With anticipation of the sensual molding of bodies they had shared the day before, she crossed the room and lay down next to him and carefully laid her head on his chest. She wasn’t quite sure what to call their relationship at this stage. She hadn’t seen him since five o’clock yesterday, when Jack had carelessly cut himself with the saw while cutting a two-by-four for Colt. The wound wasn’t very long, but it was deep enough for stitches. So instead of enjoying a first date, Brielle was stuck driving her brother to the emergency room.
Colt stirred, a slight smile
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