Crime and Periodicals: Green Valley Library Book #2 Read online

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  I smiled as I drove through the black iron gates at home with Willa following behind me in her camper van. I waved to her as she passed me by to head back to the barn. My best friend was back in town and I would do everything I could do to make her stay.

  I unlocked the door and hurried inside when I heard one of the kid’s cell phones ringing in the living room. I rushed to the coffee table and picked it up. My father had a rule: no cell phones in their rooms overnight.

  Who could possibly be calling Ruby at three in the morning?

  I swiped to answer.

  “Baby girl, don’t hang up on me no more. Your daddy needs your help,” a slurred voice said.

  Michael.

  I hung up on him and blocked the number. My blood boiled. Ruby barely knew him. He’d been out of her life for good by the time she was six years old. And he’d never come back into it. Cora saw to that. Sure, Cora would hook up with him from time to time—Harry being the result of one of their hookups—but she never let him get to the kids. He was unreliable and unpredictable. And apparently on drugs again.

  I wouldn’t let him get to the kids either.

  Don’t you worry, Cora, I won’t let him hurt your babies.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Wyatt

  I squinted against the early afternoon sunlight. I was on patrol, cruising around the area surrounding the Dragon Biker Bar a few miles outside of town. The bar also acted as the headquarters of the Iron Wraiths, Green Valley’s most notorious biker club. The Iron Wraiths’ organization had been shaken up recently when their president—as well as some other key members—were arrested. But they were still dangerous. Probably even more so because of the chaos that surrounded them.

  I frowned when I saw Michael Adams drive into the parking lot. I slowed to a stop at the side of the road to observe. After slamming the door of his beat-up old Dodge Neon and looking around the lot, he darted to the entrance of the bar. Nothing good ever happened at the Dragon Biker Bar. Which meant Adams was up to no good—just like I suspected.

  I sat back in my seat and reached for my coffee. I sipped and watched as he entered the bar. What the hell was he doing here? He was no biker. I knew he was a gambler with a drug problem; maybe he was here to join a game or score some drugs. Cocaine, I would guess, from the way he acted at the Piggly Wiggly.

  My thoughts drifted back to last night at Genie’s and a smile crossed my face when I remembered kissing Sabrina on the dance floor. She was beautiful and sweet and tasted like sunshine. I shut those thoughts down. Losing focus on this job was foolish.

  My mind had just begun to wander back to Sabrina once again when I saw her park, get out of her black Jeep, and start walking to the front door of the bar.

  What the hell?

  I sat forward sharply in my seat. Hastily slamming my coffee into the cup holder, I opened my door and got out. There was no way a girl like her should go anywhere near a bar like this. What was she thinking? I jogged through the dirty, trash strewn parking lot in her direction. It felt like my heart had flown out of my chest at the sight of her. It hurt.

  I had no claim on her. All I had was this rabid attraction that wouldn’t go away. An obsessive want that pumped through my blood and kept distracting me from—shit, from almost everything. And last night when I held her in my arms, possibilities had run through my mind like wildfire. I wanted her.

  I had no right to tell her what to do or where to go. But there was no way in hell I would let her step one pretty little foot into that bar.

  No fucking way.

  I quickly headed her off and stopped in front of her. Obviously not paying any attention to where she was going, she crashed right into me, wobbling on her black stiletto heeled boots. Shoes like that in a place like this? She couldn’t even run away if she needed to.

  “What are you doing here?” I hissed as I steadied her with my hands at her elbows.

  Her hands stopped to rest on my chest as she brushed against me. My heart returned to my body and raced beneath her palms.

  “Wyatt?” She looked up at me surprised. Her gorgeous mouth formed an O as she quickly looked away, around me toward the bar. The light breeze blew an errant curl into her eyes and I brushed it aside so I could see her better. Those beautiful hazel eyes shone silvery green in the sunlight, but they weren’t taking in her surroundings at all. I hadn’t snuck up on her. I’m a big guy and by no means was I making my presence a secret. The lights were flashing on my cruiser for fuck’s sake.

  “You can’t go in there.” I stated the obvious. Every protective instinct in my body was screaming at me to drag her away, to take her home, to just take her. She was mine. I would let no one harm her. The thought of it made me crazy, irrational. I had to quickly remind myself that she wasn’t mine. Not yet anyway.

  A soft gasp escaped her as she looked over my shoulder toward the bar. “Why not?”

  “This place is dangerous. You will get hurt.”

  She bit her lower lip. It was red, pouty, and luscious. I wanted to bite that lip. I needed another taste of her, just one little taste. My head tilted down, and her head tilted back in response. For a kiss? I leaned in closer, like she was gravity and I was falling into her.

  I could fall for her.

  I shook myself out of her pull and stepped back. This was not the time. And absolutely not the place. “I’m not trying to boss you around or control you, Sabrina. But this place is dangerous, you can’t go in there. It’s full of Wraiths.”

  She stepped back and peered around me. “But I have to talk to Michael. I need him to sign papers for me. I followed him here.” She started walking toward the bar again.

  I did not want to manhandle her or force her to stop, but what kind of cop—what kind of man—would I be if I let her go in there? I stepped around her again and stood in her path. “What do you need? Let me help you.” I had to make her understand the danger she was putting herself in.

  She searched my eyes. We heard glass breaking and boots stomping from inside the bar. She jumped toward me and gripped my shirt. I held her waist and pulled her closer.

  I used the radio on my shoulder to quickly call for backup. Jackson was close by—he’d better get his ass here right quick.

  “Go on, tell me,” I encouraged her. Then I took a quick glance behind us. Whatever was going on inside the bar hadn’t spilled into the parking lot, and it probably would not. They usually kept their shit inside and away from potential witnesses and prying eyes. Still, I took her hand and walked us back toward her Jeep. I had to get her out of here in case something serious was going on in there. If it were serious, then all bets were off, and it would spill everywhere.

  “I have to get him to sign the adoption papers and I have to make him leave Weston and Ruby alone,” she said and tugged her hand out of my grasp. She stopped walking with me. Again, she took a step toward the bar. “My father is too old now to handle Michael. I just want to talk to him for a minute. I can’t let him try to take Harry away from me.” I gaped at her back as she once more headed to the bar.

  After the Piggly Wiggly altercation I pulled Adams’ rap sheet. Michael Adams was a selfish, useless piece of shit. There was no way he’d sign anything for her. Over the years he’d been picked up several times for a variety of petty shit—fights, drug possession, illegal gambling, drunk and disorderly. Nothing had ever stuck enough for him to do any real time, just a few months here and there.

  “Sabrina.” She turned around eyebrows raised expectantly. “I can’t let you go in there, darlin’,” I said and crossed my arms over my chest.

  “I have to do something. I can’t just wait around for Michael to agree to sign the papers again. My father’s attorney is as old as my father—he can’t do anything either. Michael called Ruby’s phone at three in the morning. I won’t tolerate that. What if he tries to call her again? He already won’t stop bothering Weston—he was calling him starting at six this morning. What if he tries to get to Ha
rry somehow?” She took a breath and a determined look crossed her face chasing her fearful expression away. “When my sister died, I vowed I would always protect her kids. I vowed it to her on her death bed, Wyatt. I can’t just hide from Michael. What kind of aunt would I be if I let him keep messing with them?” She was the picture of defiance, if defiance took the form of a pissed off, hissing kitten. Or a shy librarian.

  “You should stay away from him entirely. Especially if he’s here. In fact, you should never come here, no matter what,” I countered. Frustration colored my tone of voice, making it sound harsher than I intended. I took a step toward her.

  She flinched and leaned away from me. “I’m not some scared little mouse, Wyatt. I have to protect the kids. Plus, Harry will officially be my son soon. I’m the only mother figure he’s ever had. What kind of mother doesn’t protect her own child?”

  That hit me where I lived—my daughters’ own mother had abandoned them. I understood Sabrina’s motivation, but she was going about it all wrong—getting herself hurt or killed wouldn’t accomplish anything. “I think that’s great. I understand where you’re coming from, but…” I took a quick glance behind us, then attempted to guide her toward her Jeep again.

  She sidestepped me and stood firm.

  I huffed out a frustrated sigh. “Sabrina, come on. Look around you, damn it. Pay attention to where you are—” Blaring sirens cut me off. I spun toward the bar to make sure no one was heading out here to investigate. The noise inside had died down and luckily no one had come outside.

  She jumped at the sound from Jackson’s cruiser as he pulled up and got out, his boots crunching the gravel as he approached.

  “Sabrina? What are you doing here? Have you lost your mind?” Jackson questioned her. He removed his sunglasses with a flick then shot me an incredulous look. “What the hell?” he mouthed.

  Hurt suffused her expression as she whirled to look at me. “You called the police on me?” she accused and stepped back. Had the fact that I was in uniform escaped her? I am the police. How did she survive with her head in the clouds like this?

  “Not on you. Didn’t you hear what was going on inside the bar?” My worry for her caused my words to come out as an exasperated shout.

  “Sabrina, we can’t let you go in there,” Jackson added. At least he managed to keep a gentle tone. Good cop. Bad cop. Damn it.

  “Oh my God.” Tears filled her eyes along with awareness as she looked around the parking lot. Her eyes got bigger as they drifted across the rows of parked motorcycles. “I’m so sorry. Oh my God. I have to go—” She spun on her heel and stumbled across the gravel as she ran for her Jeep. She started it up and drove away.

  I stood there and watched her until she was gone.

  Fuck.

  I wondered if I’d just ruined my chances with her. She was…different. Shy, but also strangely brave despite her obvious anxiety. Delicate but determined. I’d pushed her too far. But what else could I have done?

  “What the hell, Monroe? Why would she be here?” The sound of Jackson’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

  “She wanted to talk to Adams,” I said. “She’s going to adopt Harry and he won’t agree to sign the papers. He’s been bothering the older kids too. Let’s get out of here.”

  He turned to leave. I followed him to his cruiser. “Oh. Well, coming here is—” He shook his head, his eyes squinted against the morning sunlight. “I mean, what in the fuck was she thinking?”

  “I don’t think she was thinking of anything but the kids,” I answered.

  “I could understand that, kind of. But this is the Wraith’s territory. She is definitely too much work for me,” Jackson finished this last thought under his breath, but I still heard it.

  He slapped my shoulder, got into his vehicle, and took off. I walked the remaining distance to my own cruiser parked on the street, wondering if he was right. Was she too much work? She’d made a reckless decision today and I had two daughters to consider.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sabrina

  What was I thinking?

  I could have gotten myself killed. I could have caused Wyatt or Jackson to be injured by an Iron Wraith. Bikers scared me. What had possessed me go to their lair? No, it was a club—except the Wraiths didn’t have Jax or Opie to make it sexy.

  I am so stupid.

  I sat at the stop sign that led into town. I wanted to turn down the road that led home and go hide. I wanted to skip work so I wouldn’t have to face anybody, but I couldn’t do that. I felt like I had come a long way, and I didn’t want to go back to my loneliness and books.

  Where do I go from here?

  I heaved out a sigh and turned into the library lot to park my Jeep. Even if I had lost my chance with Wyatt, I still wanted to keep the goals I had set for myself. That was important to me—maybe even more important than dating Wyatt. Or dating anyone else, if it came to that.

  Life was much simpler when it was just me and my books.

  I trudged through the parking lot to the library. I was scheduled to work lunch today, a short shift in the middle of the day. It wouldn’t be right to make Naomi or Mrs. MacIntyre cover for me again. I still felt like crap for the last time I left them in the lurch.

  Extreme emotions were kicking me out of my usual run and hide response to stress today. Anger at Michael caused me to go to the Dragon Biker Bar and now guilt was making me go into work.

  My date with Wyatt was supposed to be this week—our first official date. Though I felt like I could count our time at Genie’s as a date. I couldn’t shake the feeling that now it wouldn’t happen.

  The possibility that I would lose my chance with him hurt my heart. But I didn’t know him well enough for this to be a true heartbreak, did I?

  I felt wretched. Uncomfortable and sad, and unsure of what to do about it. I knew I screwed up by acting like a big, crazy dummy at the Dragon Biker Bar. I was worried about the kids, angry with Michael, and not thinking straight.

  Should I call Wyatt and apologize? Text him? Or just wait and see if he showed up at the ranch to pick me up? I didn’t know the rules. I had read one million romance novels and they weren’t helping me right now.

  “Hello, Sabrina,” Mrs. MacIntyre called from behind the counter, shaking me out of my angst-ridden thoughts.

  “Hi, Mrs. MacIntyre.” I stashed my things on the shelf in her office and grimaced as I checked the to-do list. Blarg. I wanted to go home. I had a stash of Kit Kat bars in the freezer ready and waiting for an occasion like this.

  “I hate to leave you alone, but I have a meeting about the library budget to attend. Naomi will be back in an hour.”

  “It’s no problem at all. I’ll get to work on this list.” I smiled brightly and hoped she hurried up and left. I needed to be alone with my thoughts. Or rather, I needed to be alone so I could search my purse for chocolate.

  “Thank you, dear.” She packed up her things and headed out.

  I loaded up the book cart with returned books then headed out front to do a scan of the library. There were always loose books on the tables that people didn’t check out or bother to put away. Rude. Halfway through my check, I squealed and jumped a foot when Ruby popped out of the stacks in the back.

  “Boo,” she said deadpan, with a sardonic smirk.

  “What are you doing back there?” I headed her way with a smile.

  “Did you know you can catch leprosy from an armadillo?” she asked, apropos of nothing I wanted to know about.

  “Uh, yeah. Over half of all armadillos carry it. And it’s believed that humans gave armadillos leprosy first. I ordered a crap ton of books about armadillos for Cletus Winston a few years ago,” I informed her. Was she getting crazy ideas from Cletus? Maybe producing that podcast was a bad idea.

  “Huh, okay. Well, I heard—overheard—him talking about it and I just need to know where to get them. Like, where would you buy an armadillo? Everything I found online seemed kind of sketchy. And how many w
ould I need? I want to know the odds.”

  “Odds? What odds? And do you really need me to tell you that you shouldn’t try to buy an armadillo online?” I grabbed hold of the book cart and shelved a few books while I stood there.

  “The odds of catching leprosy from an armadillo. If Dad had leprosy to worry about, maybe he’d leave us alone again and sign the dang adoption papers for Harry.”

  I dropped the books back to the cart and gave her my full attention. “Oh, Ruby, I’m so sorry—” She looked away. I knew better than to try to smother her with comfort right now. We’d both start crying and I’d end up pissing her off. I’d wait until we were home to dive bomb her with hugs. Logic and facts would be a better approach right now. “Dad is working on getting a restraining order against him. I blocked his number on your cell phone. And Weston’s too. And I followed him to the Dragon Biker Bar earlier today. I was unsuccessful in talking to him though.” My father had told me to ignore Michael and let the attorney handle everything. I had promised him I would try. My father would also be upset with me when he found out where I went today. I sighed.

  “Holy crap, Sabrina. You went there? Are you nuts?” The vulnerability left her expression as she stared at me with her mouth agape.

  I twisted my lips to the side. “Apparently. Wyatt and Jackson stopped me from going inside. I think I pissed Wyatt off and I don’t know what to do—”

  “You probably just worried him. Remember when you yelled at me when I was trying to bake mud pies in the oven and almost set the kitchen on fire?”

  I laughed. It was easy to laugh about it now when we were all alive, and the smell was gone. “I remember that,” I said as I grabbed another few books to shelve.

  “Well, you didn’t want me to get hurt so you reacted like a screaming nutjob. Hollering for everyone to run out of the house while you sprayed everything down with the fire extinguisher. You weren’t angry, you were worried. See?” I pushed the cart and followed her out of the stacks and toward the tables in the center.