A Reason to Kill (Reason #2) (4 page)

Christ, he hadn’t had a reaction to a woman like this in his life, Max thought. Not about to get tangled up with a woman like her, he’d decided he needed to finish his beer and get the fuck out of there before he did something stupid. Then Jake had hollered for more shots and he’d watched Ralph Potter, owner of Last Call, bring three more. Uneasy for some reason he’d stayed in his seat to keep an eye on the situation. Jake was a ladies’ man, always had been, and tonight was no different.

Max kept watching as Lucy, the blonde he now knew from Jakes introduction, giggled, snagged a salt shaker, and pointed at Jake. His brows had shot straight up when Jake raised his shirt, wondering what the hell he was up to. Watching them closely Max reached for his beer, but the sip he was gonna take had stopped short of his mouth as he’d tilted his head and watched Lucy run her hands over Jake’s abs. With a smile, she’d leaned in, licked his chest, sprinkled salt, and then licked the salt off him slowly all while Jake watched with rapt attention. She’d thrown her shot back as Jake put a lime in his mouth and then she’d raised up on her toes kissing the lime from his mouth. Max chuckled when he finally took a pull from his beer, though he about choked on that sip when Jake repeated her moves and then turned to Mia, he now knew was the raven-haired beauty, with open arms.

Max had immediately shouted, “Jake,” it was a gut response to what he didn’t know. Jake had turned to him and smiled so Max crooked his finger to indicate he should come to him. When Jake held up his own finger, Max stood from his stool and moved towards them, his eyes on Jake the whole way. When he arrived, ready to pull Jake back from the women, that’s when Mia had run scared up to the stage.

Now he was watching as she strutted and bounced singing about a sophisticated woman falling for a downtown man. Jake hooted next to him when she ran her hand down her body and Max’s jaw tightened watching that stripper’s body move like one. More men joined in with catcalls while Joanne Drummond and Suzy Wills, two of the loudest women he’d ever met, threw out insults.

He stood frozen, watching her swing her hips as both women flirted with the crowd. His gut tightened further when she pulled that raven-black hair down and shook it out. It was sex hair, as if she’d just been ridden hard and put away wet. Seeing that veil of silk, Max clenched his fist to gain control of his reaction.

She ended the song with her back to the audience, hips still fuckin’ swaying as she turned her head and winked at the crowd. Max mumbled, “Shit,” as he felt his resolve to keep his distance weaken, but it got worse when she sang again.

The second he heard those mournful words of longing spill from her lips, he unconsciously moved back to his stool and grabbed his beer watching her sing. He closed his eyes and listened to her rich lower tones, the husky quality of her voice the sexiness of it as she emphasized words as if she felt them in her soul. When he opened his eyes, Annie was coming out of the kitchen and she winked at him. He and Annie scratched each other’s itch when the need be, but they weren’t exclusive. He knew she saw other men and that worked for him.

Turning back to the stage, his attention back on those fuckin’ lips of hers, he wondered what it would be like to come home to a woman like Mia instead of casual hookups. If he was honest, he knew he had a desire for more than one-night stands here and there. Desires, dreams, whatever the fuck you wanted to call them, but he had them for the right woman to share his life. Unfortunately, he’d yet to meet a woman who stirred his blood enough to care—until today.

Clenching his jaw at the turn of his thoughts, Max watched as Annie approached him. When she made it to the end of the bar, she leaned in, ran her hand up his arm and then whispered “You stopping by later?”

Max looked towards the stage as Mia sang and replied “Another time.” Annie ran her hand down his back as she watched him, then her eyes turned to the stage for a moment before she nodded and moved on. He had no idea why he’d done that, he’d fully intended to take her home until he laid eyes on that damn woman.

Deciding he should call it a night before he did something stupid, Max stood, threw bills on the bar, slapped Jake on the back, and started to leave as the song ended. As he tried to push through the crowd, he watched Mia laugh with the men up front and took a deep breath to keep from walking over and talking to her himself. Still heading towards the door, he saw old Joe give her a shot of something brown and she took it, raised the glass in thanks, and then downed it. Jesus, he’d lost count of how many drinks she’d had and didn’t want to be close when she got sick. Shaking his head, Max then watched her take a shot of something red from Derek Jones but stopped in his tracks as she started swaying a too much for his liking.

“Fuck, I knew she’d be a pain in my ass,” he mumbled as he changed direction.

Moving towards the stage, prepared to haul her off before she did something stupid, he heard Suzy call out “Thanks for ruining my favorite song.”

Max muttered, “Christ,” as Lucy leaned over and with an attitude replied, “Why, she didn’t sing your theme song “Hell on Heels.”

Max closed his eyes because he knew what was coming, could sense when a catfight was about to break out—Joanne and Suzy were famous for them when they were drunk.

He’d grown up with both women, watched year after year as they went through men trying to find one who would put up with their shit. Sober, he liked them just fine, and since he’d never gone there with either woman, he’d never been on the receiving end of their tongue. However, drunk, they were a pain in the ass.

Just as he expected Suzy stood and said something he couldn’t hear. Though the look of shock on Lucy's face told him, she was in rare form. Unfortunately, he couldn’t reach them both before Lucy jumped off the stage. She got in Suzy’s face, bit out “Bring it blondie,” and then shoving match began.

Max watched in surprise as Mia jumped awkwardly off the stage and tried to break them apart. Mumbling, “Fuck,” he shoved through the crowd that had surrounded them, reaching the three women just as Mia stumbled back heading towards the floor. When he reached out to stop her descent, Mia’s arms came up and her elbow clocked him in the jaw, sending his head back as she went down. Recovering quickly, he looked down and saw Mia trying to get up on her feet and back to the fight. Done with this shit, he leaned down, got right in her face, and ordered, “Stay the fuck out of it.”

Mia, drunk off her ass at this point, scowled at him for ordering her around. If he weren’t so fuckin’ pissed, he’d have thought it was cute. When he tried to pick her up and move her away from the brawl, her eyes grew wide and she gagged. Before he could react, she threw her hand to her mouth, crawled to her knees and unluckily, for Max, heaved once, and emptied her stomach on his boots.

“Christ,” Max bit out as he jumped back.

Knowing she wasn’t done Max leaned down and hauled her to her feet. When she looked around, swaying, not moving like she needed to, Max bent, picked her up, and carried her down the hall.

Mia kept mumbling, “I should have stopped at two shots,” and he couldn’t have agreed more.

When they reached the ladies’ room, Max pushed open the door with his foot and carried her into a stall. He shut the door when she dropped to her knees and moved to the towel dispenser pulling out a handful and wetting them in the sink. He moved back to the stall after she became quiet, and opened the door handing her the towels. Mia took them, her bottom lip trembling as she pulled her glasses from her face. After she had wiped her mouth, she looked up at Max and smiled shyly, her face turning pink with embarrassment. When her eyes hit his, his gut tightened further in response and he took a step back from the intensity of the color. Unable to break her gaze, Max stared back as she blinked slowly, lazily, as if she’d just woken from a long restful nap. Then she smiled, turning the full force of those crystal blue pools on him, and something shifted in Max, as if the earth tilted off its axis. Heart pounding, Max took a step towards her reaching out. When her tiny hand folded into his when he picked her up to help her home, he knew then he was in trouble.

Three

Great Ass

“It says here that Trails End is a logging town. They’re proud of their history and every year before the winter months bring little daylight, they celebrate their town’s heritage with a Founder’s Day logging competition. Three friends, loggers who wanted to start their own business, founded the town of Trails End in 1898. Joseph Hunter, who cut trees until the day he died. And Albert Potter, who left behind the rugged life of a logger opening the town’s first bar and finally Guy Madison, who also left the lumberjack life to become the first mayor of Trails End. To this day a Hunter, Potter, and Madison still reside in Trails End,” Frank read from one of the Founder’s Day fliers.

“Apparently, Founder’s Day brings everyone from their homes and to the inlet of Crystal Lake to either participate in the festivities or watch as they consume their weight in beer,” Lucy laughed

“The brochure says they use the bay for logrolling. It’s roped-off and the shallows are sectioned-off for the events. Whoa, there are sixty-foot-tall cedar spar poles for speed climbing and various sized poles of cedar for sawing competitions and axe-tossing,” Frank finished.

Even though it was early, there were people milling around like the middle of the afternoon. Kids eating ice cream and cotton candy, men and women in different costumes depicting days long past, and the sound of chainsaws rang out as I took it all in behind the dark lenses of my sunglasses.

Someone tap-danced on my head the night before, I’m sure of it. In fact, I’m pretty sure whoever it was wore boots—big, manly, black boots.

We were currently loading the Jeep to head up into the mountain range to Grizzly Pointe. The drive would take ten minutes and then we had to hike up the ridge to the area where the bears were most likely roaming. Since my head was pounding from too many shots, all I wanted to do was load into the Jeep and leave.

Frank was stuffing the last of our gear in the trunk while I nursed an enormous cup of coffee. Lucy, who was staring across the parking lot at the festivities, suddenly shouted, rather loudly, I might add, “Oh, wow, look at how fast they climb those poles.”

Frank and I both looked up and turned towards the field when she shouted. Then we watched as loggers sprinted up sixty-foot poles, all sure-footed. They appeared to be using some sort of strap and cleats to climb the poles and from this distance, looked just like monkeys climbing a tree. Once they made it to the top, they descended just as quickly. However, one man, huge compared to the others, was quicker by far. He went up and down the pole, leaving the others in the dust.

Something tugged at my memory and I thought back to the night before and the picture of Paul Bunyan on the wall. Unfortunately, most of the night was a blur. There was drinking, I remembered that. Singing Billy Joel was kinda clear, though I prayed it was a hallucination brought on by too much alcohol. Oh, God, and puking on someone’s boots, I vaguely remember that as well. There was a faint memory of green eyes staring back at me, angry at first and then gentling when I got sick. There was also a vague memory of strong arms carrying me to my room. Thankfully, when I woke up this morning I was clothed, but only in bra and panties. How I got back to the motel and out of my clothes was a mystery, but I was alone in the room when I woke up. However, the rest of the night—gone, nada, zero memory.

I knew I’d drive myself crazy if I didn’t find out what happened, yet, at the same time, I was afraid to find out. Eyeing Lucy, I decided to rip the Band-Aid off and ask. However, before I could, Lucy turned suddenly as we watched another set of climbers take their turn. She reached into the Jeep pulling out the camera bag. When she found the digital 35mm with zoom lens she took off across the street, so Frank and I followed. As we reached the edge of the festivities, Lucy brought the camera up and looked through the lens, zooming in on the climbers.

“That’s Jake up next, come on,” she announced and then took off running.

“Lucy, we need to get up the mountain,” I shouted back, but she didn’t listen and kept heading towards the speed-climbing arena.

Frustrated and aching I turned to Frank and told him, “Move the Jeep around to the other side and I’ll go find her.”

Nodding, Frank smiled as he looked in the direction Lucy had gone and then mumbled, “At least one of us got lucky last night.”

I whipped around and watched Lucy disappear into the crowd, her ponytail bouncing as she sprinted towards her target.
Had Lucy gotten lucky last night?
I searched my memory and pulled up a picture of my young intern licking her way up a muscled body.
Oh boy!

I started shoving through the crowds of people, amazed at how many residents there were in this small town. I wouldn’t have guessed there were more than five hundred people when we arrived, but the wall in front of me proved me wrong. Making my way towards the speed-climbing arena, I looked to the right when a man shouted “Loggers to your poles,” and saw a group of men getting ready to participate in the standing chop block. From what I knew about this event, which was little, the logger who was strongest, and surest with his strikes, won. I kept moving forward, my eyes scanning the men out of curiosity. Let’s face it, hungover or not, these were still burly men swinging axes and that was hot. Therefore, being a single woman, I looked, and then I froze. At the far end was Paul Bunyan, and his six plus feet (and I’m thinking fiveish inches) of pure heavenly brawn. He’d pulled the shirt from his body (thank you, Jesus) and was now standing in nothing but his jeans, work boots and a sexy leather cuff on his wrist.