Madeline seemed to struggle between loyalty and common sense.
“Tell me this,” Allie said softly.
“What?”
“If it was Clay—”
“It’s not,” she insisted. “Don’t listen to what people around here say. They don’t know him the way I do.”
“I’m just asking—if it was—would you want to know?” To Allie, justice was justice. The case needed to be solved, regardless. But did Madeline really understand what she was asking? She craved answers, but what if those answers only caused her fresh pain?
“I don’t have to worry,” Madeline said. “It’s not him.”
For Madeline’s sake—and Clay’s, too, because he was so young when it’d all happened—Allie hoped not. “I’ll take your word for it,” she said. “For now. But I definitely don’t want to miss out on the opportunity to talk to Clay while he’s willing to speak with me.”
“There’ll be other chances.”
Allie wasn’t willing to risk it. “No, I’ll tank up on coffee and go out with you. Just let me get Whitney to bed.”
“Okay. But don’t press my brother too hard. He doesn’t socialize much, and I want him to have a nice time tonight.”
“I’ll be on my best behavior,” Allie said. But she couldn’t imagine anyone pressing Clay further than he wanted to go.
Clay spotted Allie the moment she opened the door of the crowded pool hall. She was wearing a black miniskirt and a hot-pink, long-sleeved stretchy top. The skirt could’ve been a lot shorter, but it was short enough to be surprising on someone so conservative. And while the top wasn’t low-cut, it clung to her in all the right places. Maybe she wasn’t soft and voluptuous, but she looked…trim, fit and well proportioned, especially for her size. She’d also put some gel in her hair and styled it in a shaggy, fashionable way. The short length emphasized her eyes—and her slightly oversize mouth. That mouth had been sexy even when she wore that off-putting uniform.
Clay saw more than a few male heads turn as Allie spotted him, Madeline and Kirk and began to stride toward their table in the back corner. Evidently, he wasn’t the only man in the place impressed with her transformation.
“Hi,” she said, giving Clay a no-holds-barred smile as she slid into the one empty chair, which happened to be right next to him.
He refused to let his gaze linger on her mouth. “Hello,” he responded. Then he drained his beer. He had a feeling that it was going to be a long night. He didn’t like what he was doing or why he was doing it. But that didn’t matter. He had to do what he could. It always came down to necessity.
“You look great,” Madeline said. “I hope you’ve found your second wind.”
“I took some No-Doz. It was quicker and easier than drinking a gallon of coffee,” she said.
Clay knew his stepsister was very attractive, with her long, thick auburn hair, dramatic cheekbones and large hazel eyes. But Allie didn’t look drab by comparison. It was her mouth…And that beauty mark. Heck, Clay was even beginning to like her freckles. She was different, unusual…and seemed unaware of the effect she was having on the men around her.
“Coffee makes me jittery if I drink too much,” Allie was saying. “It’s the curse that goes along with having a high metabolism. I’m usually hyper until I can’t go anymore, and then—” she snapped her fingers “—I’m out. So, if this affects me the same way and I go to sleep—” she smiled at Clay again “—wake me up.”
“We’ll take care of you,” he said.
Her eyes met his, and he read frank curiosity in them.
“Would you like a drink?” he asked.
“I’ll have a beer.”
At his wave, the waitress hurried over, and he ordered two beers. “Anyone else?”
“I’m all set,” Madeline said.
Kirk lifted his half-filled glass. “Me, too. I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for a game of pool.”
Kirk was as easygoing and affable as he looked. Until he was confronted by a threat to someone he loved. Then he was a force to be reckoned with. Clay liked him, thought he’d make Madeline a fine husband.
“A table’s opening up,” Madeline said, calling out to a friend to hold it for them. “We gonna bet on the game?”
“Hell, yeah,” Kirk replied. “I came to win big.” Shoving his dark hair out of his eyes, he turned to Allie. “Fifty bucks says Maddy and I can take you and Clay.”
“I’ll bet fifty, too,” Madeline said.
“You?” Clay asked, obviously taken aback.
“I’m expecting a sizable tax refund.”
“So what do you say?” Kirk’s focus was still on Allie.
Allie’s eyebrows slid up. “You two aren’t confident or anything, are you?”
“We might be confident, but are we any good? That’s what you have to ask yourself,” he replied with a teasing wink.
“That’s not the only factor in the equation.” Allie winked right back. “Maybe you two are good, but maybe Clay and I are better.”
Madeline made a taunting sound and spoke over Kirk. “Ooh, I love it. She’s not going to let you intimidate her.”
“We won’t know until we play,” he said.
Allie leaned closer to Clay, thoughtfully tugging on her bottom lip. “You’ve seen what these two can do. What do you think? Will I have to carry you?”
Clay coughed in surprise. Women generally assumed he’d be the better player.
“I might be a burden,” he replied dryly, “but I’ll try to hold my own.”
She studied him a little longer, then flashed him a grin. “Let’s do it.”
As Allie, Kirk and Madeline headed over to the pool table, Clay intercepted the waitress who was bringing their drinks and carried them into the back room, where Kirk was already racking balls.
Allie accepted her beer with a nod of thanks, took a sip, then set it on the edge of the table. “Who breaks?” she asked above the babble of voices around them.
“You can,” Kirk said, but Allie didn’t respond. She was too busy staring across the room.
Clay followed her gaze to see Joe Vincelli coming toward them, a smirk on his face.
“Out on the town tonight, Officer McCormick?” he asked.
Allie’s spine visibly straightened. “Something wrong with that, Mr. Vincelli?”
“No, of course not. It’s just that when you said you were going to find the man responsible for my uncle’s murder, I didn’t expect you to go out drinking with him. That’s a hell of a way to investigate.”
Instinctively, Clay stepped in front of her. He wouldn’t allow Joe to bully a woman in his presence. But, even at barely over five feet tall, Allie didn’t seem to feel she needed his protection. She put a hand on his arm and gently but firmly pushed him out of the way. “I’ll drink with whoever I want,” she stated flatly.
Joe’s jaw tightened as his eyes sought Clay, but Clay could sense that he was weighing his response. Obviously not wanting to get his ass kicked, Joe reined himself in, which came as a bit of a disappointment to Clay. He’d long been eager for the opportunity to rearrange Joe’s weasel-like features.
“What’s your problem?”