Shotgun Honeymoon. Terese Ramin

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СКАЧАТЬ blinked. She’d handled Jonah before. He was merely an outspoken, sometimes arrogant, frequently youthful hothead. Silence on her part would trip him over his tongue sooner than byplay.

      Jonah sighed. “I ask because if you were stalkin’ him and if he was here, I’d open the door for you because I think he could use a good dose of takin’ care of you right now, and vice versa. Get Maddie out of his system but good. But since he’s not here and I dunno why he asked me to run extra patrols past his place tonight, I can’t do that.”

      “Where is he?” The question was out before Janina could stop it.

      Jonah grinned. “Knew you were interested.”

      Janina, the would-be grown-up of the two of them, stuck her tongue out at Russ’s baby brother.

      Jonah laughed. “Can’t hide, Janie. You’ve been hot for him since before I knew you. The only reason you went out with me was to get closer to him.”

      “Not true,” Janina protested far too vehemently and transparently. “But a girl can’t sit around all her life waiting for Russ Levoie to get it into his head to ask her for a date.”

      The mild painkillers must have made her tongue looser and her head muzzier than she’d realized. “And if you tell anybody I said that…”

      Jonah didn’t laugh. He smiled slightly and nodded, two months to twenty-five and grown-up for a change. “Mum,” he said. “Heard nothin’. But…”

      Janina glared at him. He grinned slightly and shook his head.

      “Nope, no strings. Just thought I’d mention I think I saw Russ’s car parked down at the Bloated Boar an hour ago. My guess, I’m gonna get a call to haul him out of there in about twenty minutes. He’ll be on his feet, but he won’t be drivin’ anymore tonight. And…” He hesitated, looked Janina over as though making a judgment call. Shrugged and gave it up. “He’ll need a place to stay because he said he won’t be stayin’ here.”

      Janina’s breath flipped in her lungs, and her heart hit the back of her throat. Something in the early-morning air made her unaccountably dizzy. “He will?” she said.

      Jonah nodded. “Yeah. And he took tomorrow off.”

      “Oh.” Janina swallowed. Fear, anticipation, excitement, hope, nerves—readiness. “Thanks.” I think.

      “Don’t thank me yet,” Jonah muttered almost too low for her to hear.

      Hands tense on the steering wheel—she needed to hang on tight to something right now—she watched Jonah sketch her a two-finger salute and peel his cruiser into a tight U-turn, returning to his third-shift prowl. Then trying not to wonder what Jonah had meant by his last cryptic remark, Janina, too, pulled back onto the road and made tracks toward the Bloated Boar Saloon.

      The Bloated Boar Saloon.

       July 18, 3:17 a.m.

      Nothing and everything about the Bloated Boar was unique.

      Situated off a dirt track in the middle of nowhere and a goodly distance from anywhere else, the Bloated Boar boasted a badly taxidermied mascot protected behind a scarred, bulletproof Plexiglas shield below the carved sign that bore the saloon’s name. The shield was bulletproofed because of weekend revelers intent on trying their luck at taking out the mascot’s shiny glass eyes.

      Contrary to the stories they put out, the owners did not hail from London or anyplace resembling it, but had once had a great-aunt who was an Anglophile and who’d willed them enough money to open the Bloated Boar if they called it the Bloated Boar, decorated it to her specifications and gave it the legend she wrote for it. Tall-tale-tellin’ Texans, the lot of ’em, they’d willingly complied with the great-aunt’s request, and the Bloated Boar was now in its third generation of fake Cockney-accented or East End-accented Texans.

      At various hours of the day the saloon was peopled with busty serving wenches and unsavory-looking serving pirates. There was also a full-figured barmaid who often chose to dress the part and a six-foot-six-inch ruddy-cheeked swallow-tender barman who also acted as the saloon’s bouncer.

      Any number of colorful “plants” among the customers added to the atmosphere when tourists—who found the out-of-the-way place in surprising numbers—were present. Janina knew the place well as it was a favorite haunt among the locals, too. The Boar opened at 7:00 a.m. for breakfast and closed only briefly twenty-one hours later. The food was good and plentiful, the drinks ran freely, and it was a rowdy place in which to have a good time.

      And for the life of her, Janina couldn’t believe Jonah had sent her to find Russ there. She’d have bet money that the overly intense Russ Levoie didn’t believe in rowdy good times, or relaxing good times, or maybe even just simple good times, come to that. She wasn’t even sure he knew how to relax and have a good time. Janina wheeled her vintage Chevy wagon into the Bloated Boar’s parking lot. Sure enough, parked well away from the scarred display box and sign sat Russ’s immaculate white Jimmy. Though a classic with a removable hard top and hardly new, the vehicle always managed to look it, despite the rough and dusty country Russ drove it through. Spoke to the man’s character, Janina was pretty sure.

      She simply found an empty parking place, took a deep breath, released her seat belt as she exhaled, and launched herself on her search for Russ.

      He was difficult to find in the dim light, despite the waning number of patrons left inside the pub. When she did spot him, Janina nearly dropped her charmingly crooked teeth in astonishment. Because there was Russ Levoie as she’d never thought to see him: relaxed, a pint mug of dark ale in one hand, head thrown back in laughter, with one of the lustier-looking saloon waitresses perched on his knee.

      Janina saw green at once. Green-eyed monsters, green-eyed fury, a murky, jealous green haze. She also felt green moths floating in her stomach and a hot green fire roiling up through her veins. The bastard’s brother had thought he might be drunk, but if this was what it took to get him to pay attention to a woman…!

      Then Janina remembered who the man she’d long wanted—forever longed for—was, who the Russ Levoie she knew was.

      Swallowing hard, she made herself locate his other hand. Sure enough, it was curled loosely in a fist on the table and nowhere near the girl, who shoved herself out of his lap with apparent regret and offered him a slip of paper. He shook his head. The waitress pressed what must have been her phone number on him anyway, bending forward and tucking the bit of paper into the left front pocket of his shirt.

      Janina watched something flicker across Russ’s face, not quite regret, less than revulsion, a jaw-tightening away from awkwardness, then it was gone. His lips twisted, a travesty of a smile to someone who knew him at all. The waitress twitched her hips at him as she walked away. Russ blinked and grimaced at the woman’s departure, and downed his drink in a long gulp.

      Janina breathed deep and went to the bar to order two large dark beers. God help her, she was stupid when it came to Russ. She should have tackled him the way she’d done everything else in her life: head-on and face-first and a long time ago. Then she’d have known one way or another about that long-standing “if,” and she wouldn’t be standing here worrying about whether or not she had a shot with Russ. Plus, she wouldn’t be jealous over nothing if she didn’t have a chance with him.

      Well, maybe she would, but then there’d be a reason for it, instead of this nebulous sensation of “get away from СКАЧАТЬ