“So you’re not here chasing drug dealers?” Her tone was playful, but Beau sensed something behind the questions. He remembered what the sheriff had told him about the cocaine.
“My brother’s in the hospital, so I’m playing rancher in his absence, chasing cows instead of drugs. Today I’ve worked up a powerful thirst. What’ve you got that’s wet and cold?”
“I can bring you a Corona. Free to first-time customers, especially handsome ones—that is, if you promise to come back.”
“You’ve got my promise.” Beau gave her a wink, taking in the sway of her full rump as she moved off.
Pretending to study the photos on the wall, he watched her sashay around the bar and whisper something to the bartender. The man glanced toward him, frowning. Now there was another type. Tattooed arms, shaved head. Nigel, somebody had called him. Despite the name, he looked more Eastern European than British. Not that Beau believed for a minute the name was real. If he could sneak a photo with his cell phone, he could ask a friend at the DEA to run a background check. But something told him the man wouldn’t just stand still and pose. Getting a picture would take some careful moves.
Stella came back with the cold beer. Beau was just beginning to turn on the charm when the door burst open and flew back against the inside wall with a bang. Striding across the threshold with poison in his eye was Slade Haskell.
He headed straight for Beau’s table. “I thought that was your truck I saw outside, Tyler!” he growled. “What do you think you’re doing in here?”
Beau took a moment to size him up. Natalie’s husband was dressed in his work clothes. He smelled of alcohol, as if he’d had a few drinks wherever he’d come from.
“Hello, Slade,” Beau said with studied cordiality. “I was just having a cold one after a long, hard day. Care to sit down and join me?”
“I’d drink with the devil before I’d drink with you.”
“Suit yourself.” With a shrug, Beau popped the cap on his Corona and, ignoring the mug Stella had left on the table, took a swig from the bottle. Stella stood to one side, taking in the drama like a cat watching a pair of roosters.
“What’re you doing back in town?” Slade demanded. “If you’ve been fooling around with my wife again—”
Beau looked up at him, one hand balancing the beer bottle. “Get this through your thick head, Slade. I’m not fooling around with your wife. The last time I saw Natalie, she was with you. Maybe you ought to go home to her instead of hanging around here.”
If Beau had expected his words to mollify the man, he couldn’t have been more mistaken. Slade’s florid color deepened. His chest, shoulders, and belly seemed to swell. “You stay away from her, you son of a bitch, hear?” he snapped. “If I find out she’s been with you, I’ll punch her black and blue, and then I’ll come looking for you with a gun!”
Beau had been threatened before, and he could handle it. But Slade’s threat to hurt Natalie hit home and hit deep. Everything went hard and cold inside him. Setting his beer on the table, he rose, seized the big man by the front of his shirt, and yanked him so close that their faces were almost touching.
“So help me,” he rasped, “if you lay a finger on that woman, I’ll hunt you down and tear you apart with my bare hands!”
For an instant Slade was too startled to respond. But as Beau shoved him away, he regained his bravado. Shoulders hunched, he doubled his fists and danced like a boxer. “Why not now, Tyler? Put your money where your mouth is, you yellow coward. Let’s duke it out right here.”
Beau shuddered inwardly, thinking what he could do to Natalie’s husband if he let himself go. But self-control was at the core of his training. To misuse the skills he’d been taught in the military would be beyond reckless. It would be criminal.
“Sorry,” he said. “I don’t fight drunks.”
The only sound in the bar was the throbbing beat of an old Patsy Cline song. Surrounded by shocked silence, with the music ringing in his ears, Beau turned away and walked out the door. By the time his boots touched the asphalt, he could hear Slade screaming, “Come back, you coward! Come back and fight!”
Ignoring the man, he climbed into his truck, switched on the headlights, and headed for the highway. He’d seen some interesting dynamics tonight. He’d bet money that Stella and her skinhead bartender were up to their armpits in some kind of dirty business. But whether they had any connection to the girl’s murder was anybody’s guess. He’d missed the chance to sneak a photo of the man, but some of those tattoos, although camouflaged with quality work, had the look of a prison job.
As for Slade, he appeared to be little more than a jealous loudmouth. But the idea that he might hurt Natalie worried Beau. And he couldn’t interfere without making matters worse. Maybe he should alert Tori. If he couldn’t be there for Natalie, at least someone else should be aware of the danger.
Willing his clenched nerves to relax, Beau switched on the radio and watched the lights of the town fade away in his rearview mirror.
After Beau’s call, Tori sat at the kitchen table, staring at the phone and thinking. She shared his concern about Natalie, but there hadn’t been much she could tell him. Most of what she knew about her friend’s marriage was covered by lawyer-client privilege. But maybe that was just as well. Could Beau keep his distance if he knew that Slade had been unfaithful, that he’d come close to hitting his wife, and that Natalie was actually talking divorce?
Her advice to Natalie had been sound. There was no way Beau could be involved.
Rising, she busied herself with loading the dishwasher and wiping off the kitchen counters. From the bathroom she could hear the shower running as Erin got ready for bed. A few minutes later her daughter appeared in the kitchen, fresh and rosy in her pink robe and pajamas.
“Homework’s done,” she said. “Is it okay if I watch my TV show?”
“As long as you go straight to bed when it’s over. You’ve got school tomorrow.”
Erin started toward the den, then paused. “Have you heard how Daddy’s doing?”
“I just talked with your uncle Beau. Your dad’s doing a lot better. He should be home in a couple days. But he’ll need to rest for a while.”