single syllable, Delilah raised a finger, shaking her head. “Uh-uh. You may as well check whatever you’re about to say at the back of your teeth, because I’ve done all I can here. I’ve made sure my patrons are okay and giving statements. The police tell me they’re closing the bar for the foreseeable future while they investigate the shooting. My uncle is down South somewhere and not answering his cell phone.” It was Bill’s understanding that Delilah’s uncle had been the one to raise her. “And I can’t stay here a second longer because I keep seeing Buzzard s-slumped and…” her voice faltered before she dragged in a deep breath, squaring her shoulders and continuing, “and bleeding on that barstool. And if you must know it’s making me absolutely crazy. So, I’m going. End of story.”
Mac was a smart man. He knew when to raise the white flag. “Fine,” he mumbled, sliding her a look that was both resigned and, if Bill wasn’t mistaken, verging on protective, “can you ride?”
“Uh…” Delilah hesitated, twisting her hands together and making a face. “I’d like to say
If the situation were any less dire, Bill might’ve laughed out loud at the unfettered horror that passed over Mac’s face.
Obviously Delilah didn’t see the humor in it because she planted her hands on her hips and scowled. “Oh, for heaven’s sake! You can wipe off that expression this instant, Bryan McMillan!” She motioned to the dried blood staining her shirt. “Do you really think after all I’ve been through today, after having l-lost,” her voice faltered again, and Bill wished like hell he could go back and erase the last two hours, for her sake and for Eve’s, “Buzzard, that I’m in the mood to work my feminine wiles on you?”
“Um…” Mac didn’t get the chance to say any more than that, because Delilah turned on her heel and marched down the alley toward their waiting motorcycles. Which reminded Bill…
“We, uh, we had to ditch the Hummer,” he explained to Eve, closely watching her expression. As if the poor woman needed
“No problem,” she said, traipsing over to Phoenix and hopping into position on the recently installed king and queen seat.
With a surprised lift of his brow, he followed her, hesitating only a second to study her determined, tear- stained face before swinging astride the bike. And points for him, he stiffened only
Buchanan jogged over to them, wire and small recording device in hand. “Lift your shirt, Cuz,” he said.
“Wh-why?” Eve sputtered.
“Because the only way I could convince my chief to let you go talk to your father was if you’re wearing a wire.”
Bill was almost afraid to glance over his shoulder at Eve’s face. But he did. And he was surprised to find only confidence in her expression. “Good. Then everyone will be able to hear Dad explain everything.”
He felt so goddamned sorry for her, and he faced forward once again while Buchanan made quick work with the wire.
“The investigators are going to need your phone, too,” Buchanan said, his tone apologetic. “It’s evidence of the call between you and your dad.” He held out his hand.
“It’s still in the bar,” Eve said. “Help yourself.”
When Buchanan glanced at Bill, his expression was tortured. “Don’t worry,” Bill assured the man. “I’ll keep her safe.”
A muscle twitched in Buchanan’s cheek, and Bill could tell the guy was having a difficult time letting someone else take the lead on this, take the lead on protecting Eve. But then Buchanan blew out a deep breath and nodded, stepping back.
Bill cranked over Phoenix’s big engine, and the bike came to life with a guttural roar. He stiffened wondering how Eve would react to the vibrating, snarling steel beast beneath her butt. But she didn’t wince. She simply leaned forward, pressing herself against his back.
“I thought you didn’t like motorcycles,” he yelled above the growling engine.
Her words, spoken directly in his ear, had goose bumps erupting across the back of his neck. “That was a long time ago, Billy,” she said, her tone low and sure. “And I’m not the same person you used to know.”
And as much as it might scare the living crap out of him to admit it, she was right. She
Unfortunately—and talk about scaring the living crap out of a guy—he realized there was a part of him, a
Chapter Fourteen
Delilah tugged off the helmet Mac had loaned her. At any other time, she’d probably be turned on from snuggling up against his very broad, very warm back—especially with a badass bike rumbling between her legs— but she hadn’t been shitting him back there in the parking lot when she told him she was in no mood to work her feminine wiles. Because poor Buzzard…
The image of him sitting on that barstool, dead eyes open and glassy, blood pouring out of him in a gruesome flood, would forever be imprinted on the backs of her lids like a monstrous tattoo. And, yes, he’d been a patron. Someone who paid her to pop the tops on his beers and keep his pretzel dish full. But he’d also been a friend. When the guy spent most of his evenings warming a stool in front of the bar she manned, it was kind of hard for him to be anything less.
She knew about his three failed marriages, his shady insurance scams, and his unrequited love for one of her waitresses. And she knew he’d fought in Vietnam and had shrapnel in his hip that pained him on rainy days.
A knot of sorrow lodged in the back of her throat, and to help swallow it down—she
Instantly, her sorrow was replaced by red-hot rage.
“So this is how rich murderers live,” she snarled, swinging from the motorcycle with the ease of a frequent rider.
“We don’t know that for sure,” Mac warned, hooking the helmet she handed him over the handlebars of his tricked-out ride. And speaking of tricked-out rides…
“Says the ex-FBI-agent-turned-motorcycle-mechanic slash…” she let the sentence dangle, frowning when he refused to fill in the blank. “Oh, come on!” she wailed over the loud, gut-rumbling roar of Bill and Eve pulling up behind them. All her sorrow and anger needed an outlet, and right now Mac and his goddamned reticence were awfully handy. “You have bug-detection equipment in your shop and a direct line to the Chicago police chief. So do you really expect me to continue to believe that incredibly sucktastic we’re-just-a-bunch-of-grease-monkeys line? Seriously, dude, I could eat a bowl of Alpha-Bits cereal and crap out a better story than that!”
When one corner of his mouth twitched, she narrowed her eyes and pointed a finger at his rugged face. “It’s not funny! Nothing about this day has been funny!”
And, just like that, the picture of Buzzard’s last moments burned in front of her eyes, immediately causing tears to scald the back of her nose.
And she realized she was shaking when Mac cursed beneath his breath before swinging from the bike. He wrapped a heavy arm around her shoulders just as Bill killed his cycle’s engine. The sudden, ringing silence made her feel unmoored. She imagined it was only the weight of Mac’s arm that kept her from floating up into the balmy evening air. Sucking in a calming breath, she turned to watch Bill and Eve’s approach.
Eve…
