Texas Tall (The Tylers of Texas 3)

She ended the call. Grinding his teeth, Clay drove home. He wasn’t looking forward to the trial. Yesterday in court Tori had whipped his butt in an assault case that he’d expected to be a slam dunk for the prosecution. The woman was good—damned good. As his onetime junior partner, she knew all his strategies. Clay had taught her well. Now his lessons were coming back to kick him in the face.

The worst of it was, he knew Will, and he knew the man didn’t deserve to go to prison. Will had done what any protective father would have done—what Clay himself would have done in a similar situation. But he couldn’t let that sway him. All his focus would have to be on doing his job, which was to win.

Clay thought about his career, his children, his marriage, and all the advantages that Louise’s money

made possible. Everything was hanging on the outcome of Will Tyler’s trial.

If he lost this case, his life, as he knew it, would be over.

* * *

Stella kept her brother’s ashes on a shelf behind the bar, where he’d worked and kept her company for the past two years. The black metal urn was a constant reminder of the childlike man who’d done whatever she asked of him—the only person she’d ever truly cared about.

With Nicky gone, the urge to pull up stakes and leave Blanco Springs was growing stronger every day. Even without selling the bar, she had plenty of money stashed away. All she’d have to do was close the place up, load her car, and head for Mexico.

But she couldn’t leave until Nicky’s killer paid the full price for what he’d done.

This afternoon she’d taken time to drive to the county parking lot and phone Clay as he was getting off work. She didn’t like leaving the bar when it was open. But business wouldn’t pick up until later in the evening, and the new waitress she’d hired seemed capable enough to manage without her for a few minutes.

She returned to find the place quiet, the country music low, the new girl polishing the tables. Only one customer was in the bar, a handsome, well-groomed man sitting alone in a booth, sipping Corona from a tall glass. Stella paid him scant attention until it struck her that she’d seen him before. He’d come in late one night with Tori Tyler.

Intrigued, she opened another Corona and sauntered over to the booth. “Howdy, stranger,” she said. “You don’t look like a cowboy.”

“Is there some law against not being a cowboy?” His light hazel eyes took her measure, probably deciding she was too old for him. Damned shame. The man was some looker.

She laughed at his question, leaning over the table to give him a glimpse of her ample cleavage—but only a glimpse. “Stella Rawlins,” she said. “I own this place, and I take pride in getting to know my customers. Mind if I sit?”

“Not at all.” He extended a hand as she took the seat across from him. “Drew Middleton.”

She accepted the handshake. His palm was smooth and cool, not horny with a cowboy’s hard-earned calluses. “Well, Drew,” she said. “Experience has taught me that a fine-looking man like you doesn’t drink alone unless he’s got troubles—most likely woman troubles.”

A slight twitch of his mouth told Stella she’d hit the bull’s-eye. “Not long ago,” she continued, “I noticed you in here with a beautiful blond lady. Now I don’t see her. Is she the reason for that long face?”

He gazed into his half-empty glass. Stella refilled it from the bottle she’d opened. “On the house, honey,” she said. “If you feel like talking, I’m a good listener.”

He managed a bitter laugh. “Don’t get me started. I could be here all night.”

“No problem with that. Talking will make you feel better. And not a word that goes into these ears will ever come out between these lips.”

He sipped his beer in silence.

“So the lady dumped you and broke your heart. Am I right?” she asked.

He shook his head. “If she’d dumped me, at least I could get over it and move on. No, what she’s doing is keeping me on the back burner till she gets things sorted out with her ex-husband.”

“Her ex-husband?” Stella feigned surprise. “My-oh-my, the plot thickens. What’s the problem? Do you think she’s still in love with him?”

“That’s crossed my mind. She’s defending him in a trial and—” He broke off, staring at her. “Oh, Lord, I should’ve realized who you were. It was your brother that Will Tyler shot, wasn’t it? I don’t know if I should even be talking to you.”

“Why not? Will Tyler isn’t exactly my favorite person. Something tells me he isn’t yours, either.” Stella topped off his glass again. “Just curious, mind you. Where were you the night the shooting happened?”

“With Tori. She was in my car when she got the call from Will to come and get their daughter. I offered to drive her, but she insisted on taking her wagon and going alone.”

“Why alone? Because she didn’t want Will to see her with another man?”

He shrugged. “All I know was that she was in a rush. She wouldn’t tell me much, but on the phone, I heard something about an incident.”

“You say she was in a rush?”