Chapter 6
Six
Jonah wasn’t a fan of admitting he was wrong. He figured most people weren’t. But he knew he hadn’t done right by Xander and had probably hampered his investigation by not passing on his suspicions sooner. So Saturday morning, he bearded the lion in his den—aka Xander’s office at the Sheriff’s Department, where his wife, Kennedy, had said he’d be.
“Why, Jonah Ferguson! Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes? Come on around here and give me a hug.”
Essie Vaughn, the dispatcher and admin for the department, who’d been around since God was a boy, was a long-time client of his mama’s salon, so the familiar greeting didn’t surprise him. This was one of the pieces of small-town life he’d grown to appreciate as an adult. Connection and caring. He was still getting used to being back in it.
Circling the desk, Jonah wrapped one arm around the tiny older lady. “How you doin’ Miss Essie? Xander treatin’ you right?”
“Oh, you know he is. That one’s a lot less stuck in his ways than his daddy.”
Xander’s father, Buck, had been sheriff all the way back when they’d been teenagers. He’d been a tough man, with very clear ideas about how things should be done. A definite member of the good ol’ boys’ club, who’d made some questionable uses of his authority over the years, Buck had retired after a heart attack a few years back. Xander had slid into the job as interim sheriff, then won the election outright after that. There’d been little opposition to the change, and Xander had used his tenure to start upgrading and modernizing the department where time and budget constraints allowed.
“He in his office?”
“Grumbling over paperwork, as usual.” Essie eyed the bakery box Jonah carried.
“Could be there’s something in here that might sweeten his attitude. Might be something for you, too.” He lifted the lid, revealing the assortment of pastries and muffins he’d brought from Bad Boy Bakers, where he’d left Rachel under Holt’s watchful eye this morning.
“You charmer, you. You know the way to my heart is through orange raspberry scones.” She plucked one from the box.
“A wise man remembers what the women in his life like to eat.”
“That is the God’s honest truth. Go on back.”
Jonah went down the short hallway and knocked on the doorjamb.
“Come in.”
Xander’s sandy hair stood up on one side, as if he’d been tugging at it with one hand. His face brightened at the sight of Jonah. “Hey.”
“You got a minute?”
“I’ll make a few. You’re preferable to dealing with this latest bullshit from the Fullers.”
“The Feral as Fuck Fullers?”
Xander snorted. “Well, we don’t call them that in an official capacity, but between you, me, and the wall, the moniker still fits. J.B. Fuller—you remember him? He was a year or two ahead of us in school. He got sent away a few years back for meth production. I’m pretty sure his baby sister took over his operation and moved it elsewhere in the county. I just haven’t been able to prove it yet.”
“Apples didn’t fall far from the tree, I see.”
“Nope.”
There were stories about the Fuller family going back multiple decades in the Ridge. They were the family you didn’t piss off because angering one Fuller was angering the entire clan, and they were way more about vigilante justice than allowing the legal system to take care of matters. They insulted easily and carried grudges like battle axes, passed down from one generation to the next.
“I don’t envy you having to deal with that.”
He shrugged. “It’s the job. How’s Rachel? I’m sorry I haven’t been by to check on her.”
Jonah waved that off. “She’s okay. Browbeat me into letting her actually go into the bakery this morning. I didn’t want to, but I knew she’d go on her own if I didn’t handcuff her to me, so I dropped her off with Holt before I came here.”
“Glad to hear she’s on the mend. I don’t have any updates on the case.”
“That’s not why I’m here. I came to apologize.”
“Man, somebody you care about got hurt. I get it. I wasn’t offended.”
“I appreciate that, but I’m not here about that either.” He set the box in front of Xander. “Have a pastry.”
His friend shot him a healthy dose of side eye. “Why do a get the feeling you’re trying to bribe me with sugar to not be pissed about whatever you’re about to confess?”
“Because you’ve known me for more than twenty-five years. Eat a pastry anyway.”
Jonah waited until Xander had picked out a muffin and grabbed another of the scones himself. “I haven’t been completely honest with you.”
“I’m listening.”
He laid it out, as clear and concise as he could. By the time he was done, Xander was halfway through a blueberry danish, and his expression hadn’t changed much.
“Why didn’t you bring this up before?”
“I wasn’t sure about it. I wanted time to think it through. And I had other priorities. Pick one.” Jonah shrugged. “I realize, ultimately, none of them are good reasons.”
“Mmm. Well, it’s a damned good thing I thought of it right off the bat.”
Jonah sat back in his chair. “You did?”
“Sure. I broke up dozens of bar fights when it was The Right Attitude. Made a few drug busts in the parking lot. Conducted surveillance on more than one lowlife that frequented the place. Never tied any of it to Lonnie, but it isn’t a jump to think he could’ve been involved in some shit we didn’t know about, and it’s bleeding over to you now.”
And here Jonah had thought he’d been so clever putting the pieces together. Perhaps his post-concussion brain wasn’t back to being as sharp as he’d imagined. “Well, now I feel stupid.”
“As you said, you’ve had other things on your mind. And with the trouble that was following Mia and Cayla, everything got muddied. But for what it’s worth, I agree with your conclusions. Those threats were resolved, and something is still going on. After eliminating all the other possible explanations, Lonnie’s the common denominator. What is it you think he might’ve been involved in?”
“That flash drive Abruzzi mentioned could hold anything. Blackmail material. Drug clients or supply chain shit. Nobody’d be so het up about getting it back if it wasn’t a secret they didn’t want revealed. I don’t know if it’s something Lonnie was directly behind, or if he and the bar were somehow a go-between for something bigger. We’re gonna start going through his stuff to see what we can find. I don’t remember seeing a computer or anything like that, but I wasn’t paying a hell of a lot of attention when Harley and I packed all his shit up after he died, and I sure as hell haven’t gone through it yet.”
“Harley Molina?” Xander scribbled the name on a notepad. “He was a bartender there for years. I assume he and Lonnie were friends.”
“You’d know that better than I would.” Jonah had been gone for years, and neither he nor Sam had kept up with their dad in more than broad strokes since they’d hit eighteen.
“How’d he react when you and Sam elected to shut down the bar?”
“I mean, he wasn’t thrilled. I think he must’ve liked the job to have stuck around for so long. But he wasn’t an asshole and didn’t pitch a fit about it.”
“Leanne spoke to him after all the break-ins during that first round of shit. He had alibis for everything, so we didn’t think he was behind it, but I’ll have a chat with him. See if he remembers anything useful about what Lonnie was up to. Do you know where the financial records for the bar were kept?”
“We didn’t find any in the bar itself, so we’ll definitely be looking for those to see if his bookkeeping gives any clues as to what he might have been involved in. And I swear I’ll keep you in the loop this time.”
“See that you do. If you can find them, that might be the best possible lead we’ve had.”
Jonah rose, ready to get on to the bakery and back to Rachel. “Are we okay, man?”
Xander laughed. “Yeah. Believe it or not, you’re not my first stubborn, bull-headed, former Special Forces officer to deal with.” He pointed to the gray hair in his sideburns. “I’m pretty sure all this was entirely from when Ty’s wife went missing.”
“Not gonna blame Caroline and parenthood?”
Just the mention of his daughter had Xander’s smile blooming. “I mean, the toddler years have been their own challenge, but her I can handle. And good thing, too, because we’re thinking about having another.”
“No shit?”
“Best decision we ever made.”
Jonah had a hard time wrapping his brain around the idea of his buddy being so enamored of family life. The days when they ran wild around the county were long over, and it seemed like everybody was moving on, settling down. Strange as it felt, that was as it should be.
Xander sobered. “Look, I know you’re capable, but man, please let me do my job.”
“I will. And to be clear, it’s not about my lack of faith in your capabilities. I’m just used to handling things on my own.”
He came around the desk and clapped Jonah on the shoulder. “You’re home now, brother. That means you’re not alone.”
There was truth to the statement. It was part of why he’d chosen to make his new life back where he’d grown up.
Jonah pulled him in for a back-slapping hug. “Thanks, man. I’ll keep in touch.”
“I’ll do the same.”
Nothing on earth was more comforting than butter, sugar, and flour. Rachel inhaled the familiar scents, and the tension she’d been carrying for the past week began to dissipate. They’d want some kind of savory option for the later Saturday morning crowd, but right now, she wanted sweet. There was puff pastry prepped in the walk-in cooler and fresh peaches that practically smelled of sunshine. She just had to decide if she wanted to make turnovers or peach and cream cheese danishes. Turnovers would transition to later in the day more easily, since they could be considered dessert, but they also took more chill time.
“Danishes it is.” She set the oven to preheat and began to peel peaches to make the peach jelly that would be the base.
From the other side of the kitchen, Holt prepped a batch of raspberry streusel muffins that were a variation on the blueberry that had become one of the bakery staples. “Happy to be back in the kitchen?”
“Oh my God, yes. Jonah hasn’t let me lift anything heavier than a spatula. He practically read me the riot act when he got home yesterday to find out I’d made oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. I was a good girl. I let the Kitchenaid do all the heavy lifting!”
Holt chuckled. “He’s just looking out for you.”
The bell out front jangled, and he pushed through the swinging doors to deal with the next spate of customers.
Rachel lost herself in the familiar rhythm and routine of baking, starting the jelly to simmer on the range before adding the flour-coated berries to the muffin batter Holt had begun.
She was half finished filling muffin cups when he came back through the door.
“Thanks. Those were getting away from me. We always have a pretty steady stream for the first part of Saturday.”
“That’s a good thing. The weekenders are often a different crowd than the weekday folks. People who might not have time to make it in during the week or who want a special kickoff to the weekend.”
He took the scoop from her, and she retrieved the cream cheese from the cooler to let it soften for the next phase of the filling.
Holt’s gaze followed her as she moved around the kitchen. “So, how are you feeling, really?”
“Good. I’m still a little sore, but that’s more from inactivity. I’m not used to lolling around on a couch for days at a time unless I’m sick, and that doesn’t happen too often. I’m more than ready to get back to normal.”
Or some variation of normal, anyway.
Jonah had been cuddly. There’d been plenty of touching, casual, comfortable contact that made her feel closer to him, more at ease with the arrangement they’d agreed to. There’d even been a few more of those toe-curling kisses, but nothing more. He’d been treating her with kid gloves, and while Rachel appreciated his capacity for gentleness, she had needs that had been ignored for far too long. There wasn’t a chance in hell that Jonah would act on the benefits side of their agreement until he was convinced she was fully recovered.
“Guess this wasn’t quite what you signed on for when you took him on as a temporary roommate.”
What was that supposed to mean? Rachel glanced at Holt, but all his focus was on filling the remaining muffin cups with fresh batter.
“He’s been great. He’s just driving me crazy because he wants to put me in a bubble. He’s still blaming himself for something that absolutely was not his fault.” She gave the jelly another stir and went to retrieve the puff pastry from the walk-in.
“That’s his way. Which you absolutely figured out already. You handle him well, calling him on his shit without going so far as to piss him off. Most people don’t manage that.”
She heard the unasked question and shrugged. “I was with someone very much like him for seventeen years.”
Holt paled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up something that would make you sad.”
“No, it’s fine. In most respects, he’s nothing like John, but in this… yeah, that overgrown sense of responsibility is very familiar.” But it didn’t make her ache as it had in the beginning. Jonah was his own man, not some kind of substitute. She never would’ve pursued him if he were.
The back door swung open and the man himself strode inside.
Holt slid the prepped pans of muffins into the waiting oven. “How did it go with Xander?”
“Told him everything. Turns out he’d already guessed.”
“Huh. I suppose he had a good laugh at us trying to conduct our own investigation.”
“Nah, he’s not like that. And he didn’t bust my balls too badly. So far there hasn’t been much in the way of leads on that front. He’s gonna go talk to the guy who was a bartender here forever and a day. Meanwhile, we’re still on for tomorrow—we’ll go through all of Lonnie’s stuff and see what we can find.”
Jonah stopped behind Rachel, peering over her shoulder at what she was making. “Danishes?” His hand curled around her hip.
Feeling the heat of his palm soak into her skin, Rachel took a firmer grip on the rolling pin to keep from turning into him. “Mmm. Cream cheese and peach. I want to make little roses out of peach slices for each one.”
“Sounds delicious.” Jonah crossed to the prep sink and began scrubbing up.
Rachel took an unsteady breath, grateful she hadn’t been holding a knife when he’d touched her.
“Okay, man, you’ve held down the fort all week while I played hooky and nursemaid. Go on home and spend some time with your family.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Holt slid his apron over his head and hung it on a hook by the door. “Those muffins have another fifteen minutes.”
“On it. And thanks, brother.”
“Any time.”
The two of them exchanged some kind of complicated fist bump that had Rachel smiling. Their friendship reminded her so much of John and Hudson and the third member of their trio, Steve. They’d been the Three Musketeers growing up. Thick as thieves and closer than brothers. They’d stayed that way all their lives, going into the fire academy together and coming out to work for the same unit in Syracuse. Now Hudson was the only one left.
“You okay?”
Blinking at the sound of Jonah’s voice, she realized Holt was gone, and she’d been standing there, lost in thought, the rolling pin in one hand. “Yeah, I’m fine. I was just thinking. We should do a savory scone for the late breakfast crowd. What kind of cheese do we have on hand?”
She fought not to squirm under his long, assessing look.
“Don’t know. I’ll see what’s in the cooler.”
He came back a minute later with a wedge of Asiago in hand. “We could pair it with ham.”
“I think we can do better. Something a little more complex in flavor. Caramelized onion and bacon?”
His eyes lit. “You know I never turn down bacon.”
“Neither does anyone else. Start pulling ingredients while I finish these danishes.”
Time slipped by, with Jonah moving in and out of the kitchen to handle customers between prepping components. When they hit a bit of a lull, they assembled the scones together, working side-by-side as they had countless times before when she’d taught him to bake. But it felt different now. The tension humming between them was overt instead of implied. They’d acknowledged their attraction, made a plan to act on it. The crackle of awareness skated along her skin with each brush of his body against hers. The occasional catch of his breath was the only thing that told her she wasn’t alone.
They cut the scones into wedges, spacing them on the baking sheet with far more deliberation than the task called for. Then he slid them into the waiting oven and set a timer.
Rachel tipped back a bottle of water and closed her eyes.
“Getting tired?”
She met his gaze. “No.” Every inch felt electrified, alive again for the first time in too long. Her hands itched to reach for him, so she set her bottle aside and curled her fingers around the edges of the table she leaned against.
Jonah edged into her space. “You’ve got a little something just—” He lifted a hand, brushing at her cheek.
Eyes on his, she turned into the touch, wanting so much more than this simple caress.
“You’re dangerous when you look at me like that.” His voice was full of gravel.
Rachel swallowed. “Like what?”
“Like you want to devour me.”
Yes, please.
“Well, I did promise you honesty.” She couldn’t actually remember if she had, but she certainly intended it. Her fingers curled into the front of his shirt. “And you promised to take care of me.”
“So I did.” He closed the scant distance between them, pressing his lips to hers.
On a hum of pleasure, she opened for him, welcoming the fresh blast of lust as he took her mouth in a slow, devouring kiss. He trapped her between the hard planes of his body and the worktable behind her. His hand slid into her hair, his fingers massaging the base of her skull. His free hand snuck beneath the hem of the T-shirt she wore, skimming just high enough to claim the skin along her spine. She shuddered, needing to feel those callused hands everywhere. Rising to her toes, she pressed into him, chasing more of the delicious heat he stirred.
“Oh, shit. Sorry, dude.”
Jonah’s head snapped up on a growl. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Griff backed toward the swinging kitchen door, hands raised in surrender. “Sam and I just came to say goodbye and pick up some snacks for the road. Didn’t mean to… uh… interrupt.”
“Honey, what’s going on?” Sam came through the door, the baby in a sling across her middle. Her eyes widened at the sight of the two of them. “Oh. Ohhhh. ” She drew the word out, an unmistakable realization.
Cheeks flaming, Rachel released the fistful of Jonah’s T-shirt she held. A blotch of flour remained, along with another clear handprint on his shoulder. Nope. No hiding that. Awesome. So much for keeping things low key.
An oven timer went off. Needing to do something , she ducked out of Jonah’s hold and retrieved the next batch of danishes, setting them in a rack to cool. Schooling her features into something she hoped approached normal, she turned to face Jonah’s sister and brother-in-law. “So, you guys are headed back to Chattanooga?”
“That is the plan,” Griff confirmed. His own mouth was set in a carefully blank mask, but Rachel didn’t miss the glint of amusement in his blue eyes.
“That’s for the best,” Jonah agreed.
Okay, so they were both taking the party line of pretending nobody saw a thing. Good to know.
“And you’ll keep us updated on how things are going here?” Sam pressed.
“Yeah.” Jonah’s agreement came easily, and Rachel wondered if he realized she was asking about more than just the case.
He moved toward the door, obviously trying to herd the two of them out of the kitchen. “C’mon. I’ll box up some stuff for you to take back with you.”
Sam flashed a grin back at Rachel. “It was great meeting you, Rachel. Hope to see you again soon.”
They all disappeared through the door before she could do more than throw up a quick, awkward wave. Then she was alone, wondering how complicated this friends-with-benefits thing had just become.