Protector: Doms of Mountain Bend Book 1 by BJ Wane (reading books for 7 year olds .txt) 📗

the smile she deserved. “You showed enough backbone by taking a chance on leaving everything you’ve ever known in the hopes of freeing yourself from this threat. Now, let me do what I do best, catch the fucker and throw him in jail.”

“And if he’s let out, then what?”

“If Clayton prosecutes, that won’t happen. Anything else, we’ll handle. Let’s take a shower then go to breakfast. I’m starving.”

She sent him a teasing grin as he steered her toward the bathroom. “If we shower together, it’ll take longer to eat.”

“I can be quick and thorough.”

****

Bruce had fumed all the way back to his dingy motel last night, cursing his father and the old man’s fucking daughter. He awoke in no better mood as he dressed and went in search of a restaurant capable of serving a halfway decent meal. So far, the culinary pickings in this godforsaken cowpoke part of the country were slim to none. Another thing to blame on his father and Halldor.

He didn’t know if she’d managed to get a call in to the police or if a cop just happened by at the perfect time. When he’d sped by the house after his narrow escape, he noticed the official cruiser, and that the lights weren’t flashing. Since he never heard sirens, he assumed she’d gotten a call through. Favoring his twisted ankle, thanks to his forced, hasty exit out the bathroom window, he shuffled out to his rental in no mood to wait to strike again. He couldn’t return to his luxuries and easy life until he rid himself of the threat Halldor represented to both, and now that the authorities were involved, he couldn’t play with terrorizing her first, as was his intention last night.

Itching for action, and her demise, Bruce sucked up his distaste for fast food and picked up a donut and coffee on his return to scout out Halldor’s place this morning. He reached the corner to turn onto her street just in time to see her get into the cop’s vehicle and get a good look at the cowboy who had fucked up his plans. His size didn’t intimidate Bruce – size didn’t equate to smarts. Watching them drive off, he wondered if the cop had stayed the night or returned this morning.

Making the turn, he followed at a safe distance for a few blocks, pulling onto a side street as they parked in front of a large home, now a bed-and-breakfast by the sign out front. From the proprietary hand the cowboy placed on Halldor’s back and his protective, close bearing as they walked inside, Bruce guessed there was more between them than cop and citizen.

Well, that just sucks. Bruce struggled to get his fury under control, this revelation making his job here much more difficult. He returned to his motel to search his laptop for information on the police force in Podunk Mountain Bend before coming up with another plan to rid himself of the threat to his inheritance. Ending her life didn’t bother him, and he was a crack shot with both rifle and pistol but wasn’t sure if he could handle watching her die. Fucking bitch.

****

Shawn returned to town following his Monday morning beat of monitoring traffic and responding to the occasional call, like the one from Gladys Archibald, an eighty-something nosy neighbor. Today, it was those irresponsible Norman teenagers who were coming home late at night, their souped-up cars waking her from a sound sleep. It had taken him the better part of thirty minutes to ensure her he would have a talk with the twin boys about their mufflers. They were good kids, their only vice loud cars. He would take that over drinking and sneaking out any day.

After texting Andi and asking her to clock him at lunch, he parked in front of Clayton’s office and honked. He was more than ready for a lunch break and to enlist his friend’s advice and assistance with Lisa’s stalker. Shit, just the word gave him the chills when he thought of someone targeting her.

“Why are you scowling?” Clayton asked, sliding onto the passenger seat.

“Something I want to discuss with you,” he answered, veering toward the Watering Hole. Mountain Bend’s only bar was a sleazy dive that served up the best damned corned beef sandwich and onion rings within fifty miles. “Food first.”

“Works for me, but let me ask this – does it have to do with our temp teacher slash sub?”

“You always were an astute bastard.”

“And you were always easy to read. That was her car still parked at your place after eleven last night, wasn’t it?”

Shawn reached the bar, parked, and cut the engine, then angled toward Clayton to say, “Yes, and I’m not even going to ask how, or why you know what make of car Lisa drives.” Annoyed with the pinprick of jealousy he experienced from Clayton’s remark, he slammed out of the cruiser, muffling the idiot’s laugh.

“Relax, McDuff,” Clayton drawled as he held the bar door open and waved Shawn in ahead of him. “That bright yellow bug is hard to miss in Spur’s parking lot, even at night, and I saw her in it shortly after guest night. It’s serious, then?”

Shawn nodded toward a corner table in the dimly lit room. Sitting down, he signaled the day waitress, ready to dish out some payback when he saw it was Sharon Mize. Skirting his question, he stated, “I’ll never know since she’s only here through May. Speaking of serious…afternoon, Sharon.”

The thirty-one-year-old, twice-divorced brunette nodded at Shawn but turned a mega-watt smile on Clayton. “Deputy Sheriff. Hey there, Clayton. What can I get you, darlin’?”

Laying her order pad on the table, she bent over and braced on one arm, holding her pen poised as she locked her gaze on his. Shawn appreciated the blatant view down her gaping, low-cut blouse, even