Chapter 13 Lost and Found
Lost and Found
Shane stood inside Micky’s living room facing Amy, who still wore her black Mountain Coffee T-shirt and a pair of leggings that did a wonderful job highlighting her shapely legs.
“I’ve been racking my brain trying to remember Benny. Reece doesn’t remember him either. What else do you remember about him?” He hoped his casual tone masked the residual agitation poking at him.
This time, she didn’t turn away. Her eyes didn’t meet his, though, as she tapped her finger against her chin.
“Nothing really. It was an introduction, and then they were gone.”
“They went fishing,” Shane prompted.
She nodded. “Yes.” A memory brightened her eyes.
“It was kind of weird, though, because Mick didn’t take any fishing gear with him.
I asked him about it later, and he said Benny had brought it all in his car.
Mick can be anal about his fishing stuff, so I asked about that too, and he claimed Benny’s gear was better and he was testing it out to see if he wanted to switch brands. ”
“Did you see the vehicle?”
“No, he didn’t park in front of the house.” Amy was holding it together admirably well, her wringing hands the only tell that she was upset about Micky’s absence.
“Other than the Big Event, have you seen him around since?”
She opened her mouth to answer when an engine rumbled outside. Her eyes popped wide and fastened on Shane’s. “That sounds like Micky’s truck.”
Shane was closest to the door, so he grasped the latch and held up his other hand to signal Amy to stay put.
“Let me check.” He opened the door and peered out just as Micky killed the engine, hopped from his pickup, and slammed the driver’s side door.
He had parked it diagonally behind Shane’s, blocking him in, and he stalked in a circle around it.
His clothes and hair were disheveled; he looked like he was at the end of a long bender.
“Hey.” Shane lifted his chin.
Micky whipped his head toward him. A smile that was both icy and unhinged spread across his stubbled face. “I wondered whose piece of shit was taking up my driveway.” Micky sauntered toward him, a slight wobble in his gait. “What the fuck are you doing in my house, O’Brien?”
Shane shoved his hands in his front pockets. “Amy was worried about you when you didn’t come home last night. I offered to stop by and see what I could do.” Oh, and help her move out on your ass.
“I bet you did.” Micky let out a hollow, mirthless laugh and stopped two feet from Shane. The six-inch stoop where Shane now stood exaggerated the difference in their heights, giving Shane an inordinate amount of pleasure.
Micky waved a dismissive hand at him. “Well, I’m home now, so you can get the fuck out of here.” Shane crossed his arms and planted his feet as though they were part of the concrete. Micky scoffed. “What? You’re going to keep me out of my own house now? I said move, asshole.”
“Need to ask you something first.” Micky crossed his arms over his chest, mirroring Shane’s stance. Shane continued. “I was cruising 550 earlier looking for you. I saw you riding shotgun in a silver SUV. You ducked down.”
Something flashed in Micky’s eyes but quickly winked out. “What makes you think it was me?”
“Because it looked like you.”
“How could you tell if I supposedly ducked down?”
“This passenger wasn’t fast enough, and I got a good look.” Shane kept his gaze leveled with Micky’s, looking for a flinch, a tell, anything that would give him away.
Micky sneered. “Well, it wasn’t me. Now stop playing sheriff and get the hell off my property.”
“I can’t while your truck’s blocking mine.”
Micky swung his head in a drunken arc toward the vehicles.
Shane glanced over his shoulder at Amy, who had come up behind him. Her eyes were as wide as saucers, and he thought he detected a tremble rippling across her shoulders.
He used the calmest voice he could muster to direct a suggestion at her. “Why don’t you get your phone, your purse, your coat, and whatever else you need? But make it quick.” He was not leaving here without her, and he hoped like hell she wasn’t going to argue with him.
She gave a slight bob of her head and spun.
Meanwhile, Micky stumbled toward his truck and climbed in. Fired up the engine. Spit gravel as he launched the vehicle into reverse.
Shane brushed his hand against his pistol, reassuring himself it was there.
Too soon, Micky stood in front of him once more, a step closer this time, all spit and snarl. “You’re on private property, Deputy, and I want you to leave.”
Shane remained rooted to his spot in the open doorway. “I was invited.”
“Not by me, you weren’t, and it’s my name on the deed. She doesn’t own shit. Now get your ass off my fucking property.”
Micky lunged as if to push past Shane, and Shane sidestepped him. Micky’s momentum carried him across the threshold with enough force that he thudded on the floor, chest first. An invisible cloud that reeked of sour alcohol followed him. He wheezed a curse as he pulled himself to his knees.
Amy reappeared, coat over her shoulders, clutching a duffel in one hand and her purse in the other.
Shane fingered his keys. “Ready?”
She nodded, her dark gaze holding his. “I need to talk to him.”
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Micky thundered.
“Where were you?” she threw back. Gone was her alarm from mere minutes ago. Her ebony brows were two angry slashes above eyes that barely contained her rage.
“None of your fucking business.” He clambered unsteadily to his feet and staggered toward her, but she neatly darted out of his reach.
Every muscle in Shane’s body was taut, coiled, ready to spring.
“You smell like a cross between a brewery and a perfume factory,” she accused. Her eyes scanned his face and neck, landing on a purple mark below his earlobe. “Where. Have. You. Been?”
“Out.”
“You didn’t answer any of my calls or texts. I’ve been worried sick.” A tiny muscle flexed in her jaw.
Micky clasped his hands together as though praying and pushed out his bottom lip. “Aw, did I make the poor widdle thing unhappy?”
“All the time,” she ground out.
“I turned off my phone because I didn’t want to hear you nag, nag, nag and ruin my good time.” He mimicked a mouth opening and closing with his hand.
“Well, guess what? You won’t have to worry about me ruining your good time anymore. I’m moving out.”
He burst out with a laugh. “Damn, woman! If you’re expecting a gig doing stand-up, don’t quit your day job!”
She flicked her eyes to Shane, who lifted the duffel from her grasp. “I’m ready now.” Walking past Micky, she spared him a backward glance. “Thanks for making this easy for me.”
Swaying where he stood, Micky craned his neck and watched her. Reality seemed to slap him out of his stupor, and shock contorted his features. “Hey! Wait a minute. You can’t go.”
As Shane hurried her into the truck, he could hear Micky wailing her name.
Micky lurched through the doorway, hands splayed on either side of the frame as he caught his weight.
Shane hoisted himself into the driver’s seat, locking eyes with Micky.
Micky’s expression transformed into a dark, dangerous scowl.
Straightening, he shaped his thumb and forefinger into a gun and jerked it as if firing.
“Dead,” he mouthed.
Despite his heart hurling itself against his rib cage, Shane didn’t pause.
In a series of practiced motions, he depressed the automatic door locks, fired up the engine, slammed the truck into reverse, and peeled out of the driveway.
Then he shoved the transmission into drive and took off down the road.
Beside him, Amy crumpled as a sigh escaped her lungs.
He reached over and squeezed her upper arm, the gesture natural and irresistible. “Are you okay?”
“I will be.” She turned toward him, unshed tears leaving a sheen in her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered.
The sight of her tears kindled panic inside him, which was almost laughable, considering the confrontation he’d just had with a whacked-out Micky.
He nodded and turned his attention back to the road, unsure exactly where he was taking her.
He hadn’t thought his plan through. Hell, he hadn’t had a plan.
As his breathing slowed, his synapses began firing in proper sequence again. “Do you need to go back to the coffee shop?”
That little detail seemed to jar her, and she straightened, finger-combed her hair, and brushed imaginary lint from her sleeves. “Yes, I do.” Her gaze swung to his. “Can you drop me there? I can’t believe I left my car behind! And my shampoo!”
Shampoo? He pressed his lips together to keep the side of his mouth from twitching with a smile. “Slow down. We’ll get it worked out, one problem at a time. Let’s get you to back to the café first, okay?”
“Okay.” She sagged back into her seat before bolting upright again. “Oh no! I gave Cade tomorrow morning off. That means I’m on my own.”
He slid her a sidelong glance. “No, you’re not. You’ve got me.”
Confusion pleated that smooth space between her brows. “I’ve got—What?”
“Deputize me. Put me to work. You’ve still got an hour to go before you can close today, right?”
“Yes.” She drew out her answer, as though asking a question.
“So train me this afternoon. Tomorrow, I’ll be your kitchen bitch and help you through your morning rush.”
She burst out with a laugh that was part sob. “Oh my God, you’re too good to be true.”
His chest swelled two extra sizes, though it had no business doing so, and he gave up fighting his grin. “Glad to hear it.”
She looked out the windshield, her eyes lifting to the sky as she murmured, “Driving off into the sunset. There’s something poetic about that.”
Yeah, there certainly was.
Amy glanced over at Shane in the Mountain Coffee apron that was too small for his frame, all ease as he placed a mug of steaming coffee in front of a late-afternoon straggler.
“Sorry about the wait,” he told the guy.