to be exact, but same difference.
“Would you like to address the citizens?” Dennison extended the microphone to her as if they were working together.
Not on his life, they weren’t.
But Joey had learned how to play the game with the big guns. And she’d be damned if she’d let this pigheaded moron intimidate her.
She pasted on a professional smile and accepted the mike. “Joey Hendricks here. I am a special investigator with the governor’s office. I want to assure the residents that the governor is aware of the situation in Justice. The Department of Public Safety and the Texas Rangers are working diligently to solve the recent homicide as well as the murder of Lou Anne Wallace, and the attempted murders of Anna Wallace, Sheriff Matheson and Sergeant McKinney. We intend to restore a sense of peace and order to Justice as soon as possible.” She smiled, injecting confidence into each word. “It’s imperative that you folks remain calm. If you have any information pertaining to these crimes, no matter how insignificant, please step forward. Together, we can end the terror seizing the town.”
Dennison arched a brow. “So that means that you’re prepared to own up to your family’s possible involvement in the murders?”
Heat caused rivulets of perspiration to collect on her nape. “I trust the Texas Rangers and Justice Police Department to find the truth.” She gestured toward the black-sooted police department building. “In spite of the recent demise of our local facility, the law enforcement agents are working 24/7. When information becomes available, I will see that it is dispensed to facilitate an arrest.” She leveled a warning look at Dennison. “After all, we don’t want the investigation ruined by false reporting or irresponsible press coverage.”
Dennison moved like a true viper. “Is it true that the police are focusing the investigation on your parents, Miss Hendricks? That your father tampered with his own surveillance tapes to hide his part in your brother’s kidnapping and murder? That he killed his wife, Lou Anne, because she intended to disclose his scheme?”
Joey’s insides clenched, a tremor running through her, although she tried desperately to mask any reaction. “As I said before, I will disclose information as soon as the facts become available. To speculate about unsubstantiated allegations would be detrimental to the investigation.”
He opened his mouth to continue his interrogation, but she cut him off with a withering look. “Thank you in advance for your cooperation.” She shoved the microphone back in Dennison’s hand and walked away.
Head high, shoulders rigid, she passed the inn, then the Main Street Diner and headed to the one spot in town that held a few precious good memories. Although there were bad ones there, as well.
The Last Call. She’d dragged her mother from the bar more times than she could count. Had driven her home and helped her to bed, listening to her vent her anger at Leland for his infidelities and her anguish over her missing toddler son.
But Joey had had her first taste of hard liquor in the establishment, too. And lost her virginity afterward.
A sardonic laugh escaped her. Sex was out of the question tonight.
But a drink was definitely in the picture.
Something strong to help her forget that her parents were once again smack-dab in the middle of a homicide investigation. That she blamed them for her brother’s disappearance.
That her own guilt was unbearable.
Suddenly a low roar rent the night air, and tires screeched. A lone headlight blared in her eyes. She froze momentarily, then realized it wasn’t a car, but a motorcycle careening toward her. A Harley with a leather-clad man all in black.
His tires screeched and sparks flew from the asphalt. He obviously didn’t see her.
And if she didn’t move fast, he was going to plow right into her.
Chapter Two
Cole gripped the handlebars with a white-knuckled grip as he skidded sideways. Sparks flew from the asphalt, and his tires ground against the gravel, sending small rocks scattering in a dozen directions. Instead of having the good sense to move, the leggy blonde froze in place, making the blood rush to his head and sending a shard of panic through his chest.
He had to miss her, but damn—he didn’t want to tear up the expensive machine below him, either.
Okay, she was much more important than his Harley, but still…
He caught the bulk of the bike’s weight with his muscled strength, tilted his body sideways to compensate for the spin and to keep the Hog from rolling, then roared past her and skidded to a stop near the rail hitching post in front of the Last Call. She jumped into the shadows of the awning just as he cut the engine.
Hissing a sigh of relief and frustration, he shot off the bike, whirled around and glared at her. Adrenaline fired his veins and sent a furious round of curse words sailing past his lips. He wanted to wrap his hands around her delectable little throat. “What the…didn’t your mother teach you not to stand in the street?”
“You moron!” she shouted back at the same moment. “You nearly killed me.”
Moron? “You’re questioning my intelligence?” He ripped off his helmet, then slung his hair out of his face. “Dammit, sugar, you’re the one who needs to watch where you’re going!”
“I could say the same thing to you.” She jabbed a sharp red fingernail at his chest. “I don’t know what kind of hole you crawled out of, but pedestrians have the right-of-way in this town, and the speed limit is…well, you were way over it.”
Her scathing words reminded him too quickly what he’d already known—that he shouldn’t expect a warm welcome in Justice. That some people here thought he was a low-life slime just because he was the bastard son of Jim McKinney.
The very reason he’d headed to the bar first thing.
Before he faced his half brothers the next morning, he intended to have a cold one, unwind and cool off. And where better to get the local scoop than the town’s pub?
Loose lips liked to talk….
A sliver of moonlight caught her blond hair and sassy eyes, and his gut did an odd flip-flop. She was the hottest woman he’d ever laid eyes on. Her bare legs came up to her neck, the suit jacket she wore had popped the top button and a generous amount of cleavage spilled over the top of a black lacy camisole beneath. Damn.
He’d never met a drink or a woman he didn’t like, or at least wanted to taste. And this was one tall drink of water that tempted his thirst, badly.
“You give every man you meet this much trouble?”
She gave him a scathing look. “Men are nothing but cheaters and liars. They use women, then walk away when they’re finished.”
“Ouch.” She’d been hurt badly by someone. He swallowed against the sudden dryness of his throat. He felt as if he’d eaten dust. Or maybe her comment hit too close to home. “What if I said I’m sorry?”
She tossed a silky-looking strand of hair over her shoulder. “For yourself or for the sorriness of all those with the Y chromosome?”
