Texas Secrets, Lovers' Lies Page 10

  Brock looked in the direction he’d pointed. Several men occupied bar stools, all of them appearing to be alone. “Which one?”

  “Third from the end. Big guy with the ponytail and the beard.”

  Right after he pointed Mike out, someone called for another beer, and the bartender left.

  Zoe returned. Brock relayed the information to her.

  “All right then. Well, he’s certainly muscular at least.” She dusted her hands on the front of her miniskirt, drawing Brock’s gaze like a magnet did to metal. He swallowed, a wave of heat suffusing him.

  Zoe didn’t appear to notice. “Come on,” she said. “Stay a few steps behind me, okay?” She moved off without waiting for an answer.

  “Hey there.” Sidling up to Mike, she smiled. “Are you alone?”

  He brightened. Of course he did, Brock thought darkly. He was male, after all.

  “Sure am, pretty lady.” Patting the empty stool next to him, he grinned. “How ’bout I buy you a beer?”

  “First, I need to know something. I’m wondering if you know my friend. She’s tall and blonde. Her name is Shayna.”

  “Shayna?” Slurring his words, the bearded man took another long pull on his beer. He blinked, clearly trying to focus. “The name sounds familiar, but I don’t know...”

  Zoe whipped out her cell phone, scrolling until she found a picture of Shayna. “Here. Does she look familiar?”

  His eyes widened. “Oh, her.” He licked his lips. “She and I, uh...got together a while back. But I haven’t seen her since then.” Scratching the tattoo of a shotgun that covered his entire arm, he grimaced. “Does she owe you money, too?”

  Chapter 7

  Too? Zoe glanced at Brock, one eyebrow raised, before turning her attention back to the man. “She’s my best friend,” she said, her voice saccharine. “Did she borrow money from you?”

  He tilted his head, looking from her to Brock while he considered. “What is this really about?” he asked, his voice suspicious. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Zoe,” she said. “And you are?”

  “Mike.”

  Zoe leaned in closer, giving Mike a good close-up of her plunging neckline. Every muscle in his body tensed, and Brock had to force himself to look away.

  “Let me buy you another beer,” Zoe crooned, sliding up on the bar stool next to Mike with the shotgun tattoo. She flashed a smile full of mystery and sex, a smile that no man with red blood could hope to resist, Brock thought grimly.

  “Okay.”

  Now that Mike had agreed, Zoe motioned behind his back that Brock should move away. Begrudgingly, he stepped back, moving behind a pillar, out of Mike’s direct line of sight but close enough that he could still hear the rest of the conversation.

  Zoe ordered two more beers, even though she’d barely touched her first one. “So, Mike, did my friend owe you a lot of money?”

  He shook his head, mumbling something under his breath, too low for Brock to make out the words.

  “I’m sorry.” Practically purring, Zoe patted Mike’s muscular arm. “She does like to party.”

  “Yeah.” Taking another swig of his drink, Mike brightened. “How about you?”

  Zoe looked blank. “I’m sorry, what?”

  He leaned in, close enough to kiss her, no doubt giving her a shot of his alcohol-laden breath. “Do you like to party?”

  “Oh.” Zoe laughed, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Sometimes. I haven’t nearly had enough to drink tonight. So, when was the last time you saw Shayna again?”

  Subtle, she was not. But captivated by her sensual beauty and with his senses dulled by beer, Mike didn’t seem to notice.

  Considering her question, he dragged his hands through his longish graying hair, then scratched his salt-and-pepper beard. “A week or so ago, I think. We hooked up here and, after last call, we headed out to the lake to keep partying.”

  “The lake?” Zoe froze. Even though she couldn’t hear him, Brock silently urged her to act normal. He figured Mike would clam up the instant he sensed the importance of her questions.

  “Yeah.” Draining his beer, Mike set the bottle on the counter, hard. “Thanks for the brew.” He half stood, swaying slightly. “But I gotta run.”

  Damn. Cursing, Brock thought about moving forward to intercept the other man but decided to wait and give Zoe a chance to handle it.

  “Aw, don’t go.” Zoe clutched at his arm, pouting prettily. She slid the untouched beer over to him. “Have one more beer, on me.”

  Mike glanced from her to the sweating brown bottle. He hesitated, just enough. “All right.” He grinned at Zoe, his calculating expression telling Brock he wasn’t as drunk as he was pretending.

  Which brought up the question of why?

  Zoe and Mike put their heads together. She laughed at something the other man had said, leaning in so close to him they looked like they could start making out at any moment.

  Or maybe, Brock thought as his blood started to boil, that was only his imagination. He took a sip of the club soda, then a deep breath. While he’d known he wouldn’t be comfortable watching Zoe work her wiles on other men, he hadn’t expected to teeter this close to the edge of losing control.

  Which proved he was more of an idiot than he’d realized.

  Through a haze of smoke and rage, he realized Zoe was motioning him over. Moving stiffly, he went.

  “Hey, Brock,” she said. “Quick question. What time was it that Cristine said Shayna called you the night she disappeared?”

  Next to her, Mike stiffened.

  “Eleven,” Brock answered, carefully setting his drink on the bar as he balanced on the balls of his feet.

  “Well, that’s just about the time that Mike here claims he and she were partying out at the lake,” she said brightly. “Isn’t that right, Mike?”

  Swiveling to face Brock, Mike crossed his arms. “Maybe a little before that, but yeah. So?”

  This time Brock answered. “Shayna hasn’t been seen since.”

  Mike looked from Brock to Zoe, then back again. “What’s your point? Me and Shayna partied, had us some fun and then went our separate ways. I haven’t seen her since then.”

  Taking a step closer, Brock kept his arms by his sides, hoping the nonthreatening posture wouldn’t provoke the other man.

  “Why don’t you tell us exactly what happened?” he asked, his voice calm.

  “Sure. I don’t have anything to hide.” Mike drained the last of his beer. “Though I might need another drink first.”

  “No problem,” Zoe said coolly. She signaled the bartender and, after another bottle of beer had been placed in front of him, she smiled. “So you and Shayna were at the lake. Where, exactly?”

  “In a wooded area by one of the public boat ramps,” he replied. “Right off FM 3033. I brought a blanket. We had some primo weed and a bottle of wine. We smoked a bowl, and then...” Mike’s leering grin grated on Brock’s nerves. He suspected Zoe felt the same, judging from her narrowed eyes.

  “And then?” Zoe prompted.

  “That girl was hot to trot,” Mike said. “If you know what I mean. We fooled around, and after that, she took off.”

  “Why?”

  Mike shrugged. “Who the hell knows? Maybe she’s crazy.”

  “She’s not.”

  He took one look at Zoe’s closed expression and shrugged again. “Whatever you say.”

  “How’d she get home?” Zoe asked.

  “Beats me. I offered her a ride home, but she said she wanted to go for a walk and maybe a swim. She was pretty loaded, so I told her I didn’t think that was a good idea. She just laughed at me and told me to take myself off.”

  “Did you?”

  “Yeah.” He grimaced. “I
went home. Got there a few minutes after eleven. My roommate was there. He can vouch for me.”

  “You said earlier she owed you money?”

  Mike’s expression darkened. “Yeah. She wanted to buy the rest of my stash. I had about two fingers of good Colombian in that baggie. She promised to pay me the next night. We were supposed to meet up here. She never showed.”

  Before Zoe could say anything else, Mike stood. “I’m going to take off.”

  Zoe grabbed his arm. “Can I get your number, just in case I have any more questions?”

  He stared down at her, his expression hard. “I don’t think so,” he finally said. Inclining his chin at Brock, he turned to go. “You two have a good night, now.”

  Silently, they watched him make his way through the crowd to the door.

  “We need to have the police search the lake,” Zoe said, her expression glum. “What if Shayna went swimming drunk and drowned?”

  “What if she didn’t?” Brock countered. “We don’t have any proof.”

  “Did you not hear what Mike said?” Zoe’s voice rose. “He left her there!”

  Taking her arm, Brock steered her gently toward the door. She didn’t resist, for which he was grateful. They were still drawing attention as they made their way through the bar.

  Outside, she shook her arm free. “Come on, Brock!” Rounding on him, she stood toe to toe. “You heard the man. He left her there, all by herself. Who knows what could have happened? Someone could have followed them, or he could have gone back and...”

  Though her close proximity inflamed his already overheated senses, he managed to respond in a reasonable tone of voice. “Zoe, I understand, but Mike already got what he wanted from her. He had no reason to go back. And don’t you think if he did something to harm Shayna, he would have kept quiet about even going to the lake with her?”

  Hands on shapely hips, she lifted her chin. He almost smiled. He should have known she wouldn’t back down.

  “This is the best lead we’ve gotten,” she argued. “And we got it on our first try out.”

  Damn, he wanted to yank her up against him and kiss her. Battling back that impulse was as difficult as willing his heartbeat to slow, but he managed. Good thing, too, because when he glanced up, he realized a crowd had gathered.

  Not smart, especially in a place like this.

  “Is that guy bothering you, honey?” One of the men in the group watching them called out.

  Zoe blinked, letting Brock know she hadn’t even realized they had an audience. He would have felt flattered if he didn’t know how much trouble the wrong move could put them in.

  “Zoe,” he murmured, his voice a quiet rumble. Luckily, she caught on immediately.

  “Oh, he’s not botherin’ me at all,” she purred, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her body close.

  Instantly, he lost all control over his lower body. She had to feel it, as close as she was. The little hitch in her breathing told him she did.

  But it was what she did next that floored him. While the small group around them watched, she grabbed Brock’s head, pulled him down to her and kissed him.

  No closed-mouth, chaste, this-is-for-show kiss, either. Mouth open, this was the kind of heat-generating mating of tongues that led to much, much more.

  When she finally lifted her head, he felt as if he was coming up for air after diving to the bottom of the lake. Vision blurred by a red haze of lust, he couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, or move.

  “Come on, darlin’,” she whispered, taking his hand and tugging him toward the parking lot as the men hooted and called ribald comments. “There’s a lot more where that came from.”

  Though his arousal made walking difficult, he managed.

  Only when they were safely inside his truck and driving away did Brock allow himself to take a deep breath. “What the hell was that?” The words exploded from him. He dragged his hand through his hair and fought for control.

  “Acting.” She grinned at him, apparently having no idea of her effect on him. “I’m pretty good at it, aren’t I?”

  Jaw set, he struggled to find the right words. Finally, he thought the hell with it. “Do that again and you’ll find yourself backed up against the wall with me buried deep inside you.”

  She gasped. “Brock—”

  “If that offends you, too damn bad. You felt what you did to me.”

  “But—” She tried again.

  “Just give me a minute,” he interrupted through clenched teeth. “Please.”

  Shifting in her seat, she complied. But she didn’t turn away. Instead, she watched as he tried to get himself under control.

  “I’m sorry,” she said after a few minutes had passed.

  “I am, too,” he admitted.

  Dipping her head, she considered him. “Let’s forget about it, okay?”

  “There’s nothing I’d like better,” he replied, well aware he was lying.

  Taking his words at face value, she nodded her head, one corner of her shapely mouth tilting up. “I don’t think those men back there would have bothered us,” she said, her tone light. “But I had to make sure. That’s why I kissed you.”

  He decided not to argue the point.

  “I didn’t mean anything by it,” she continued, clearly not knowing when to stop. “Nothing at all.”

  And therein lay the problem. Yet again, he simply clenched his teeth and then nodded.

  She stretched, drawing his attention to where the stretchy material of her dress pulled across her breasts. Almost immediately, he again felt desire stir, nearly making him groan out loud. He needed a distraction and, damn it, there was none to be found.

  “Can I ask you something?” She looked directly at him.

  “As long as it has nothing to do with that kiss.”

  “It doesn’t.”

  He sighed. “Sure.”

  “Why weren’t you drinking back there?”

  Crap. “I told you, I quit.”

  “Why?” Her voice was soft but persistent.

  A flash of pain worked like a dash of ice water to extinguish the lingering embers of his desire. He’d wanted a distraction and, by God, he’d gotten it. Zoe had succeeded in reminding him exactly why he shouldn’t want her, couldn’t want her. She hadn’t been there to help him out of the deep, dark hole he’d dug. Though the decision to begin drinking heavily had been his and his alone, even now he still considered her disappearance as the underlying reason.

  Or maybe that was a massive oversimplification. Her vanishing had begun a chain of events, culminating in his father’s death and the end of Brock’s dreams. There’d been more than one reason he’d tried to drown himself in alcohol.

  “That’s really none of your business,” he told her, his voice stiff.

  “Sorry.” Lifting her palms toward him, she made a strangled sound. “I forget we’re not friends.”

  Friends. If there was one thing he knew for certain, it was that she was not his friend.

  Opening his mouth to concur, he closed it, instead. He was drained, tired of fighting his attraction to her, worn-out from the constant, self-protective need to stay one step ahead of her. So he let the comment go. No way was he up for a long, drawn-out, female kind of talk about defining their relationship. As far as he was concerned, they didn’t have one.

  Nor would they ever.

  “I’ll talk to the police,” he said, aware that would distract her and keep her from asking any more probing, personal questions. “Roger Giles might listen to me.”

  “Thank you,” she said softly. “The quicker we find out if Shayna is in that lake, the sooner Mama and Mr. Bell can get closure.”

  He heard the pain in her voice but refused to acknowledge it. If she needed comfort, he wasn
’t the one to provide it.

  “I’ll let you know what he says.”

  “I really appreciate that.” She sighed. “Before we get to Mama Bell’s, can we stop at one of the fast-food places on Main Street so I can change back into my other dress?”

  He’d managed to completely forget about that. “Sure.” And then, in that night’s apparent tradition of failing to keep his mouth shut when he should have, he asked her if she wanted to get something to eat while they were there.

  Turning to eye him, she frowned in apparent confusion. “Sure, I guess. A burger would taste really great right now.”

  This despite the fact that it was nearly eleven at night.

  What harm could there be in sharing a quick meal? None. He turned into the parking lot of Abe’s Fast Burgers. A neon sign flashing in the window advertised they were open twenty-four hours a day. Zoe hurried to the restroom to change.

  The only other customers inside were a tired-looking woman and her two small children. Emerging from the restroom, the instant she saw them, Zoe stopped. Brock narrowly avoided crashing into her.

  When he glanced at her, a look of gut-wrenching pain flashed across her face so quickly he might have imagined it.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, against his better judgment.

  She blinked. “Nothing.” She cleared her throat and hurried over to the counter. “Dinner’s on me.”

  So he wasn’t the only one with secrets. Interesting. Or it would be, if he actually cared.

  * * *

  The sun beamed hot from a cloudless blue sky, reflecting sharply off the still, smooth lake. A perfect spring day, one made for picnics and hiking, cheerful things. Not the kind of weather Zoe would have ordered up for what they’d come here to do. Gray, overcast skies and the soft mist of a chilly rain would have been much better suited for the task at hand.

  Zoe had risen early and updated her blog. The night before, she’d been a bundle of nerves, unable to sleep, so she’d come up with a slightly humorous take on the difference between men in Texas and those in the Northeast. An hour after posting it, she’d gotten close to five hundred comments, which meant the topic was a success.