Thirty-Six and a Half Motives
Page 11

“Rose. Stop. Who called you?”
I gave him an ornery smile. “I think I’ll keep that to myself for now.” Pulling my arm loose, I marched toward the back of the pool hall. The bartender, whom I recognized from the day Neely Kate and I had hustled Dirk Picklebee, watched slack-jawed as Jed tried to block my path.
“Rose, you don’t know what he’s like when he’s like this.”
“Like what?”
He leaned closer, speaking loud enough for only me to hear. “He’s hurt, Rose, and just like a wounded animal, he’s lashing out at everyone and everything.”
Oh. “You’re afraid he’ll hurt me.”
“Not physically—he’d never touch a hair on your head—but he’s bound to rip you to shreds if you go back there.”
My eyebrows rose in a challenge. “I can give as good as I get, Jed.”
He moved aside, but he didn’t look very happy about it. I stalked toward Skeeter’s office, trying not to lose my nerve. What could Skeeter possibly say to hurt me?
Plenty.
But I also knew he’d want to know about J.R. He deserved to know.
I came to a stop outside his office, hesitating before I rapped on his door with more force than I would ordinarily use. But there could be no timid knocks for Skeeter Malcolm. He knew me as strong and brave.
Truth be told, he’d helped make me that way.
“Come in,” he grunted from behind the door.
I sucked in a deep breath and pushed open the door. He was sitting at his desk, reading something on his computer screen. He cast a cursory glance in my direction, then froze. His expression hardened, and he sat up straighter in his chair.
“Well, well, well. Look who’s decided to go slummin’.”
I shut the door behind me, my back prickling with irritation. “You stop that right now, Skeeter Malcolm. I never once thought of associating you with slummin’.”
He eyed me, his expression carefully guarded. “You don’t usually use the front door, now do you?”
“That was something we both agreed on in the very beginning, and you doggone know it.”
He circled his desk and came to a stop in front of me, looking down at me. I knew he was trying to intimidate me. It worked with everyone else—even Jed—but not with me. Not after the first time I’d come to him.
His eyes narrowed. As if reading my mind, he said, “You didn’t think much of me the first time we met.”
“The first time we met, you nearly choked me to death and then proceeded to blackmail me. You really need to work on your first impressions if you want to make more friends.”
The corners of his mouth twitched before he got them back under control. “What are you doin’ here?”
I decided to keep the call from J.R. for last. If I led with that, we likely wouldn’t talk about anything else. “I just saw Mason.”
“Yeah,” he said, sounding bored. “I know.”
Damn Jed. “He told me that he asked you to have someone watch over me.”
He sat on the edge of his desk, crossing his arms, and shrugged.
“Skeeter!”
He dropped his arms to his sides as he stood again, looking agitated. “What the hell do you want me to say?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Deveraux asked me not to.”
“Since when do you obey requests from members of the Fenton County legal system?”
His face reddened, and he balled his fists. “I don’t take orders from the damned district attorney.”
“Then why the big secret?”
“I was going to have you tailed anyway, so it didn’t matter to me if Deveraux asked me to do it or not.”
“So why keep it from me?” I shook my head, feeling like a fool. The answer had suddenly occurred to me as plain as day. It was the same reason Mason hadn’t told me. “You thought I’d pitch a fit and refuse.”
His eyes darkened. “What are you doin’ here, Rose?”
“Mason is taking me to Magnolia tonight for dinner. He wants Jed to stay here until we get back into town.” But I had to wonder how safe that was after J.R.’s threat.
A wicked grin lit up his face. “Does he now?”
“Skeeter. Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” His smile faded into a glare. “Seems like he took you out to dinner last week—with a sheriff’s deputy watching, no less—and you were snatched right out from under both their noses. If I didn’t have my man watching you, you’d be dead right now.”
“Like I said, that’s the reason I came, but right before I came in, I got—”
“No.”
My eyebrows shot up. “No?”
“No. I don’t trust Deveraux for shit.”
While I had been about to agree with him about keeping Jed around, he was ticking me off. “You don’t have any right to tell me what to do.”
“I have every right after what happened in that restaurant!” His voice boomed off the walls, and I fought the instinct to cringe.
I knew Skeeter held Mason responsible for my kidnapping. He also likely resented him for having suggested that Skeeter saw me as more than just an asset, that his feelings for me exceeded the bond of friendship. It was a subject we hadn’t broached. “We need to talk about what happened. What Mason suggested . . .”
Skeeter shook his head. “There’s nothing to discuss.”
He wouldn’t talk about his feelings for me, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to go there with him, so I decided to focus on something else that had me worried. Especially before I told him about my call. “There’s plenty to discuss, but right now I want to talk about J.R. I know you. There’s no way you’re content with letting J.R. sit behind bars. What are you planning?”
“What I’m planning is no damned business of yours.”
“You and I both know it’s very much my business.”
“This is not your goddamned world!” he shouted, his voice ringing in my ears. “Just because you put on a damned hat does not make you a part of it!”
I stomped toward him and jabbed his chest. “You’re my friend, and I care about you. I don’t want you to do anything stupid.”
Anger flashed in his eyes, but then a cold mask replaced it, his eyes looking deadly. “First of all, you and I are not friends. This was a business relationship, no more, no less. Do not for one second think you mean a damn thing to me.”