“Bryson,” he growled.
The face melted back into the shadows as if it had never been there at all.
“David Bryson?” Zach demanded. “Where?”
“Who’s David Bryson?” Nancy questioned.
“In the trees up the hill,” Drew told his brother with a small nod.
“I don’t see anything.”
Nancy squeezed his arm in a bid for attention. “Andrew? Who is David Bryson?”
In that brief moment of eye contact with the man, rage had surged inside Drew, welling from the recesses where he kept it mostly caged. Now he worked to contain a whole host of emotions, feeling his jaw clench. His knuckles whitened on the case in his hand. He looked at Nancy without really seeing her.
“David Bryson is the bastard who killed our sister.”
“What?”
“I still don’t see anyone,” Zach said, watching the trees with the same tense wariness Drew had felt only moments earlier.
“He’s gone now,” Drew told him with certainty. “Back to the shadows where he belongs.”
“I thought your sister’s death was an accident,” Nancy said sharply.
“That’s how they classified it,” Zach agreed, equally grim.
Drew didn’t believe those findings. He never had. Their beautiful sister, Tasha, would have been alive today if it hadn’t been for David Bryson. One day, Drew would prove he’d been responsible for what happened. In the meantime, he’d concentrate on winning the mayoral election. Then he’d be in a position to make Dr. David Bryson wish he’d died in that boat explosion as well.
“Oh, hell,” Zach said, abruptly. “Just what we need. More trouble. Ten o’clock high.”
Frederick Thane was working the crowd, moving in their direction. The current mayor stopped abruptly, his double chin quivering when he spotted Drew. For an instant, dark squinty eyes flashed with hate. Then the professional smile slid into place. Only his eyes stayed hard and cold. He strutted forward, hand outstretched, his rounded stomach extending over his fancy belt buckle.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my esteemed opponent.”
There was no way to avoid the pudgy fingers or the wet clasp of his grip. Despite his slight paunch and that double chin, Frederick Thane wasn’t a big man. At least not yet. At fifty-five or thereabouts, he still had deep black hair, probably due to a little chemical assistance, and he was taller than Drew remembered. Lifts, Drew decided. Even so, the other man still had to look up to meet Drew’s eyes, which obviously rankled.
“Mayor,” he greeted.
“Saw your name on the other sign-up sheet.” He shifted his rifle and stared at the handgun case. “We aren’t competing in the same category.” He swiped at the rivulets of sweat running down the sides of his face with a crumpled blue handkerchief.
“Not this time.”
Thane’s lips pursed tightly, as though he was trying to decide if there was another meaning beneath those words. “Hot enough for you?”
“I imagine it will get hotter before there is a winner.”
Thane’s eyes narrowed. “Count on it.”
They were not talking about the weather or the contest. It was no secret that Frederick Thane was furious over Drew’s decision to run against him. Thane had scared off every other opponent who dared consider throwing a hat in the ring for the mayoral election. Unfortunately for him, he didn’t have any leverage to use against the Pierce family. Now he stared pointedly at Nancy Bell.
“And this must be the fancy publicist I heard your grandpa hired for you.”
A sneer licked the edges of his words.
“Fancy?” he heard Nancy whisper to his brother. She sounded amused rather than annoyed.
“Nancy Bell, Frederick Thane,” Drew introduced. “And you know my brother, Zach, of course.”
“Of course, of course. Young Zach.”
Zach winced visibly. He didn’t offer to shake hands. Nancy, however, did. “Mayor Thane.”
“Charmed, I’m sure.”
Drew gave her points for neither shuddering at the contact of his damp hand nor wiping her own hand against her tailored light blue pants afterward.
“We fancy types are big on charm,” she offered with a professional smile.
“You’ll need it. You have your work cut out for you, my dear,” Thane said.
“Hey, Drew, they’re calling our party now,” Zach interjected.
“Don’t let me keep you,” Thane said with false joviality. “I hear you’re giving the family speech at the picnic in a few days. I’m looking forward to it.”
“Are you? Then I guess I’ll see you on the dais.”
“Indeed you will. Ms. Bell. Young Zach.” Thane pivoted away.
“If he called me ‘young Zach’ one more time I was going to try a little target shooting right out here,” Zach muttered.
“Wouldn’t be worth the cost of the bullets,” Drew told him.
“So that was Frederick Thane,” Nancy mused.
“In the flesh.”
“Of which he has plenty,” Zach added unkindly.
“Interesting.” Nancy watched the mayor stop to chat with some people nearby. “He did make one valid point, you know. You don’t really need me if he’s your competition.”
Zach barked a laugh.
“Don’t let his bumpkin imitation fool you,” Drew warned. “He’s smart enough in his way. He’s been running this town for a number of years now.”
“And he’ll do just about anything to keep that position and win this campaign,” Zach added.
“I’ve studied his dossier,” Nancy agreed. “But the man has a definite problem with his public image.”
“What public image?” Zach demanded. “The man’s a leech and everyone knows it. He’s been sucking the town dry for years.”
“But he keeps getting elected,” she pointed out.
“Hard to lose when you’re the only candidate,” Zach said. “Everyone else has a habit of dropping out before the election.”
“I believe lack of funds is usually cited,” Nancy agreed. “But that won’t be the case this time, will it, Andrew?”
Drew made a noncommittal sound and moved forward to check them in. No, funding definitely wouldn’t be a problem, but he had no intention of dropping out of this race for any reason.
After helping Nancy select a gun to use, he looked around in irritation. “Where the heck is Carey?”
Carey Eldrich had coerced, begged, pleaded and even insisted they participate in the tournament. Once he explained to Nancy that practically the entire town turned out for the event, and that the tournament had started drawing people from as far away as Salem, she readily agreed Drew’s participation was necessary.
“Sounds like a good place for some unofficial campaigning,” she told him. “Before the Fourth of July kickoff I want you seen all over town participating in local events. I’ll make sure you get plenty of media coverage. That’s my job.”
“And I’ll bet you’re very good at your job,” Carey had said flirtatiously. “Just don’t expect his picture on the front