rest would help him remember more.
Finn had Googled the fiery blond bar owner and he’d had to wonder, given that Tucker Blackburn fit the admittedly broad description they had, if she might be involved in some way. But either she was an award-worthy actress or her reaction to drugs in her bar was genuine. He’d watched the emotions flit across her face, unguarded and unchecked—bewilderment, irritation, anger and then disgust.
For the moment, he decided to operate under the belief she was unaware. Which, if it was true, only made him angrier. This was not going to be a picnic and there was a part of him that raged on her behalf for being dragged into this mess.
But there was nothing he could do about that. The Kentucky Rose was smack in the middle of it all, and if he had his way the inconvenience was going to get bigger before it got better. The best he could do was try to protect her.
Even if she wasn’t going to like his methods.
* * *
THE NEXT AFTERNOON Tucker stood in the middle of the Rose and tipped her head back. Closing her eyes, she let the silence and scents of the place soak into her. This was her favorite time of day. Before they opened. Before any of the staff arrived. When it was just her and the place she’d built.
Some people didn’t like bars when they were empty. With the lights glaring, you could pick out all the scars on the bar and the rough edges of the walls. The tables were stark instead of inviting. Pretty colors didn’t twirl across the dance floor, beckoning you to take risks and try moves you possibly shouldn’t.
Monique, one of her oldest friends, often said the place was a little creepy when it was empty. Too big and...bare.
Tucker liked it because it was all hers.
An ugly purple and yellow bruise had bloomed over her cheek, but she’d managed to cover up the worst of it with makeup. Not that she particularly cared. She just didn’t want to deal with the questioning looks and raised eyebrows it seemed to cause.
Her ankle was a little more troublesome. She’d bought a thin bandage brace, which was helping, downed several ibuprofen and forsaken her fancy heels—she really missed those extra few inches—for a pair of brown and teal cowboy boots that offered a little more support.
She’d try and take it easy tonight. Last night had been long and crazy. It had felt like everything that could go wrong did, capped off with the realization that the drugs Finn had found were apparently the same ones she’d discovered in the bathroom. The bag must have fallen out of her pocket when she got knocked on her rear in the fight.
Which was both good and bad.
Maybe the problem wasn’t as bad as Finn seemed to think. Either way, he’d taken the drugs and hopefully disposed of them as he’d said he would. At the moment her best option was to view the situation as one less thing on her to-do list. And, with any luck, tonight would be less insane. Although it was a Saturday, so she wasn’t holding her breath.
For right now, she needed to get the place ready. Tucker walked behind the bar and began taking inventory of what she needed to replenish from the back stock room. They’d gone through a ton of whiskey and vodka last night. She also needed several cases of beer.
She was lost in her own world and the familiar minutia when a loud knock echoed through the place.
Tucker frowned. The last thing she wanted to deal with was some idiot who thought she should be open merely because he was ready to start drinking.
Grabbing the stun gun she kept tucked behind the bar, she headed for the front door.
It was made of old, solid wood she’d found at a flea market, and she’d commissioned a local artist to carve it into a door, adding the bar’s logo to the scarred surface. She loved that door. It was one of the first things she’d had made when she decided to open the place.
The only downside was that she couldn’t see who was waiting on the other side. And since it was possibly one of her staff instead of an idiot customer who couldn’t read signs or tell time, she flipped the locks and pulled the door open several inches.
She should have let them pound away.
Standing on the other side, were two officers, their badges already out, ready to flash in her face. And behind them stood Finn McAllister, Duchess sitting prettily at his side.
“Hi, Tucker. Can we come in?”
She should have known he’d come back to haunt her.
“Considering your friends, I’m going to guess I don’t have much choice in the way I answer that question.”
“No, ma’am,” one of the officers said, his voice apologetic. “I’m Officer Dade and this is my partner, Officer Simmons. We have a few questions for you.”
With a sigh, Tucker swept the door open, gesturing them inside with the business end of her stun gun.
“Please put the weapon down, ma’am,” Simmons said, his hand already sitting on the butt of his own gun.
“Don’t worry. I’ll put it away behind the bar. I might not be thrilled to see you standing at my front door, but I’m not about to shock you. A girl can’t be too careful, though.”
“No, ma’am.”
Tucker turned and started walking through the bar, doing everything she could to hide her limp. For some reason, she didn’t want Finn to know her ankle was still bothering her.
“Finn, make yourself useful and lock the door behind you, would you?”
One of the men snorted, but she wasn’t sure which one and didn’t particularly care to find out.
Slipping the stun gun back into its hiding place, she spread her arms wide along the business side of the bar. “Can I offer you gentlemen a drink?”
“We’re on the clock, but appreciate the offer.” Dade declined with a subdued smile.
She hadn’t expected them to accept, but she was wise enough to make the offer anyway. “Then let’s skip straight to why you’re here. I’m sure Mr. McAllister notified you his dog discovered some drugs here last night. It won’t surprise you to hear that happens sometimes in this business, despite my best efforts to eliminate it. I don’t condone drug use. And, unlike other bars, neither I nor my security team look the other way when it happens.”
Officer Dade nodded his head. “That’s good to hear. But this isn’t simply a case of someone partying too much.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
Officer Simmons chimed in. “The bag Duchess discovered contained enough crystal meth to qualify as possession with the intent to distribute.”
A heavy pit opened up in her belly. “You’re telling me this isn’t just college kids looking to have a good time. Someone was dealing inside my bar.”
It wasn’t really a question, but Simmons answered anyway. “We think so, yes.”
Crap, she really hadn’t wanted to hear that. This was a bigger problem than she’d realized.
