known the man less than a week. How could he cause such a roller coaster of pride and hilarity to race through her?
“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” a familiar voice asked from the doorway.
Flinching, Skyler turned to face her brother.
THE VIEW FROM the Baxter City Jail wasn’t bad, Jack reflected.
The simple, tidy room contained just two battered oak desks—one manned by a bored-looking sergeant—a few vending machines and two cells. Other than the recent addition of a hall leading to some new offices, Jack didn’t have much trouble picturing the place occupied by Sheriff Taylor and Barney Fife of Mayberry.
Skyler paced the floor in front of him, her breasts bobbing with the movement, her worn jeans hugging her hips and thighs. Full of guilt, he wondered how much her eye hurt and if they could pick up at the kiss where they left off.
Of course they were on opposite sides of the bars, so that might be a bit difficult to accomplish at the moment.
“Don’t worry, Jack. I’ll get you out of there,” she said, holding a fresh ice pack to her eye as she turned, then started across the front of the cell again. “Gus is talking to Wes now. He’ll explain how you were trying to help.”
Jack clenched the bars in frustration. Trying to help didn’t seem like much comfort at the moment.
The fighting had ended amicably enough. At the appearance of the police, fighters and patrons alike had blinked innocently, dropped their chicken wings and chips and picked up their drinks as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
Lieutenant Wesley Kimball had strolled in with calm authority, received a rundown of the events from a grateful Gus, then proceeded to take down the names of the ones who’d wrecked the bar owner’s property. Gus agreed not to press charges as long as the fighters cleaned up and paid for the food. Wes had even acknowledged Jack’s assistance in controlling the situation.
Until he noticed his precious baby sister’s swollen eye.
Then Jack and everyone else had been taken straight to jail—do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars.
“This is all your fault, man,” Mike, one of his fellow detainees, said grumpily.
Jack turned to stare at the man who’d brandished a bowl of beer nuts at him less than an hour ago. “My fault?”
“Yeah.” Mike’s jaw jutted forward. “You had to break up a perfectly good brawl.”
“Oh, shut up,” Flash said. “This is your fault. If you hadn’t thrown those nachos—”
“Pipe down in there,” the desk sergeant called from the other side of the room.
Flash and Mike turned their backs to one another.
Skyler laid her hands over Jack’s through the bars. “They can’t hold you if Gus doesn’t press charges, right?”
Her bright blue eyes were so liquid with worry he didn’t want to tell her the truth. At the very least, the police could charge any and all of them with disturbing the peace, destruction of property, attempted assault, actual assault, criminal mischief, etcetera, etcetera. And, frankly, he was more concerned that her brother was, right at this moment, plotting to pin everything from J.F.K.’s assassination to MonicaGate on him.
He stroked her cheek with the tips of his fingers. “Everything will work out,” he said without much confidence.
“I’d back off, if I were you, Tesson,” Wes called from down the hall. “Going near my sister was what got you into this mess in the first place.”
Jack bit back his reply as Wes Kimball sauntered toward the cells, Gus trailing in his wake.
Skyler ran toward him. “You let Jack out of there right now, Wesley. This is outrageous! He tried to stop the fight.”
Wes smiled down at her, patting her on the head as he walked by.
Jack didn’t think dismissing Skyler was such a wise move—or was going to be quite so easy.
Skyler threw her ice pack on the floor and charged after him. With her red, swollen eye and I’ve-had-it-up-to-here expression, it looked as though the next casualty in this war would be Wes Kimball. “I’m warning you,” she said.
“Not now, Sky,” he said, his blue eyes, so like his sister’s, radiated anger as he stared at Jack. “Toss me those keys, Sergeant.” After unlocking the cell doors, he gestured in the direction he’d just come. “This way, Tesson.”
Rolling his shoulders, Jack walked out of the cell. It was time they had this out. His and Skyler’s relationship, if they even had one, was none of Wes’s business, but he’d dealt with hotheaded cops before and knew arguing would only egg him on. Jack intended to keep a hold on his already strained temper and show this jerk a thing or two about self-control.
His gut clenched as he preceded Wes down the hall, remembering the time his parents had been arrested in an animal rights protest, and he’d driven all night to Dallas to bail them out of jail.
They were halfway down the hall when Skyler joined them. “You’re not talking to Jack without me.”
Jack was suddenly reminded this was the woman who’d sacrificed herself for him. She’d instinctively stepped in front of Flash’s punch, telling him more about her strength and loyalty in one brief moment than he suspected most people learned in a lifetime. No one had ever done anything like that for him.
Wes sighed. “Come on, then. It’s time I found out what’s going on between you two anyway.”
Jack stiffened. He wanted to know what was going on, too. No doubt Wes thought he wasn’t good enough for his sister. And Wes certainly wasn’t the first.
They all entered a small, somewhat disorganized office with Wes’s nameplate half-buried beneath a pile of file folders on the desk. Wes indicated the two chairs in front of the desk for Jack and Skyler, while he sank into his swivel office chair. The position of authority. This was his interview.
Jack laid his arms along the armrests. Stay cool. He knew he could do so with Wes in a way he’d never manage with Skyler.
The lieutenant wasted no time getting to the point. “So, what’s going on between you two?”
“Nothing is going on,” Skyler said immediately, though her gaze darted to Jack’s, and he knew she was thinking about the kiss they’d shared on the dance floor.
“You two started a barroom brawl,” Wes said.
“We didn’t start anything. Flash did, and she was only—”
“Ah, yes. Flash.” Wes raised his eyebrows. “The biker chick who claims to be one of your customers.”
Comments like that were a bad idea. Jack knew from experience. But after an hour behind bars, he’d let the lieutenant learn that lesson for himself.
“My customers are none of your business,” Skyler said tightly.
Jack glanced from Skyler to Wes. What about calling him arrogant and egotistical?
Wes sliced his hand through the air. “Whatever. The point is she claims your black eye was intended for Jack. She said he was threatening you.”
Skyler rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. He was not.”
Though Jack appreciated her support, Wes’s eagerness to believe he was really a danger to her pissed him off. He leaned forward. “You really think I’m capable of threatening your sister?”
That suspicious lawman gaze flicked to Jack. “I don’t know you well enough to determine anything about your capabilities.”
At this rate, he never would, either. Wes Kimball had labeled him a troublemaker based on assumptions, guilt by association. Jack swallowed a tide of anger.