With a heavy sigh, Mac interrupted her father’s ramblings. “Bruiser, this is my dad, Craig Hernandez. Dad, this is Bruiser Mackey.”
Craig blinked a few times, scratched his cheek, and squinted at Bruiser. “I know you. You were Will’s favorite player. He liked how you play balls to the wall with no concern for your own safety. Will was like that, too, you know.”
Bruiser nodded, casting Mac a look that said, Is this guy okay? She lifted one shoulder and said nothing. Mac got out of the car, and Bruiser debated whether or not to beat cleats or stay for the long haul.
“Bruiser, thanks for the ride.”
She wasn’t getting rid of him that easily no matter how uncomfortable what they’d just done in his SUV might make her.
“Come with us. A fresh set of eyes is always welcome. You might catch something we’ve missed,” Craig said.
“Dad, Bruiser has better things to do.” Mac shot him a look that said, Just leave.
“I, uh, I doubt I’d be much help.” Bruiser hesitated, torn between a stubborn inclination to stick around and his don’t-get-involved mantra.
“Of course you will.” Craig wasn’t taking no for an answer, that was pretty obvious.
Tossing a tough-shit grin at Mac, Bruiser nodded and followed her father to the pickup. Reluctantly, Mac followed and got in the back seat. Bruiser settled in the passenger seat, hoping like hell they didn’t smell too much like sex. Not that it mattered. Craig seemed completely oblivious to anything that didn’t have to do with Will.
Several minutes later, they walked into a greasy spoon with an equally dreary bar. Mac and Bruiser both headed straight for the bathrooms to wash their hands. When Bruiser came out, Craig was seated at a table in the bar, along with Mac. Bruiser ordered a whiskey. Since he wasn’t driving, he might as well see if drinking would relieve some of the sexual frustrations currently hammering his body.
Trudy turned out to be a stereotypical waitress, right down to the bleached blonde hair, gum chewing, and tight clothes. She latched on to Bruiser like a woman who’d won the Mega Millions. Bruiser didn’t much like being anyone’s lottery prize, but the irritation flashing in Mac’s eyes goaded him on. She didn’t want him here, and that hurt for reasons he couldn’t explain.
When Trudy left to fill their drink order, Craig nudged Bruiser. “She’s interested in you. Play along and see if you can get any info out of her.”
“Dad, please, don’t get Bruiser involved in this.” Mac pursed her lips together, her narrowed gaze sliding from her father to Bruiser.
“He doesn’t mind, do you, son?” Craig stared at him with such desperation, Bruiser couldn’t say no, even though Craig’s suggestion had Mac almost gnashing her teeth.
“I’ll see what I can do.” Bruiser smiled innocently at Mac. Maybe next time she’d think twice before she attempted to ditch him. Even better, they might finish up and get back to her house in time for a continuation of their car sex.
With renewed enthusiasm, Bruiser strolled over to the bar, dialed up the charm, and chatted up Trudy. The woman all but climbed into his pants. Her cloying perfume choked him, and her cat-like claws dug into his arm, but Bruiser stuck with it, bullshitting her until he could get past the garbage to the good stuff, whatever the fuck that might be.
Trudy lowered her voice and glanced over her shoulder. “You naughty boy, coming on to me in front of them. You can’t be dating Mac?” She said it as if it were an inconceivable possibility.
Bruiser clenched his jaw, unreasonably pissed at the scorn this fake bitch directed at Mac, but he forced himself to play along. “Uh, no, just hanging with them. She works at the Steelheads’ practice facility. I lost a bet and had to take her out, so here we are.”
Trudy nodded, shooting a glance at Mac’s table then back to Bruiser. “I understand. I figured it had to be something like that. She’s not your type.”
Irritation rolled through Bruiser. Mac outscored this woman any day of the week. Yet obviously, Trudy assumed she was more Bruiser’s type. God, maybe she was, based on past girlfriends and hookups. The realization made him sick to his stomach.
“What are you doing later tonight?” Trudy pressed her hips against his, and Bruiser juked to the side with a smooth move that put a barstool between them.
“I have a commitment. Wish I didn’t, but I do.” What a lying sack of shit he was, but he reminded himself it was all for a greater cause.
“Maybe some other time.” She ran a fire-engine-red fingernail across the stubble on his chin. Instead of turning him on, he suppressed a shudder. He swore he could feel Mac’s eyes burning a heart-sized hole in his back.
“Yeah, give me your number.” Mac and Craig owed him. Big-time.
Trudy scratched her number on the back of a paper coaster and handed it to him. “Don’t lose this.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He folded it neatly and tucked it in his jeans pocket, then struck a casual pose leaning against the bar while keeping a strategic barstool between them. “So how do you know Mac and Craig?”
“Oh, my former best friend used to be married to her brother.” Trudy stepped back a little, biting at her lower lip. On Mac the act would’ve been sexy; on Trudy it read like a guilty verdict. This woman did know something.
“Really? The one who disappeared?”
“Yes. Will.” Her short, clipped tone didn’t invite more questions, but Bruiser didn’t give a shit.
“So you’re not friends with her anymore?”
“No, she’s a selfish bitch.” Trudy wouldn’t meet his gaze. Instead, she ripped a paper coaster into little pieces.
“Do you think she did something to Will?” Bruiser sipped his
