When the Dead Speak, Bailey Bradford [new ebook reader .TXT] 📗

door shut behind him. “Sheriff, I sent off everything like you asked, but…” Nixon pulled a chair closer to Laine’s desk and sat, looking at his hands where they rested folded between his knees. When he looked up at Laine, the understanding in his blue eyes sent a trickle of adrenaline-laced sweat down Laine’s spine. “I didn’t exactly explain the situation, you know? I mean, I didn’t lie, or do anything that would jeopardize the case once we catch this guy and he goes to trial. I just didn’t say anything or put anything in the report that could, you know.”

Laine did know. “Matt… I’m not going to keep this a secret. I did that before, when I was with Houston PD, and it was—” It was what? How could he describe it? Laine shook his head. “It was fucked up, okay? I won’t do it again.”

Matt narrowed his eyes as he studied Laine. “You know that there’ll be some people that will want you out of office, and I have no desire to fill your position. Are you ready to deal with the fallout from this?”

“‘From this?’” Anger speared through Laine as he pushed away from the desk and stood. He slapped his palms down on the desk and glared at Nixon as he spoke. “Why the hell should I have to make a choice here? I know about reality, and I know that the last time I kept everything quiet and hidden away, it didn’t make a damn bit of difference! Someone knew, and that person killed my lover!” Laine forced out the words that were twisting his insides. “And I have to live with the fact that maybe, maybe if I hadn’t been too much of a coward to speak up and stop hiding who I was, Conner would still be alive today. I won’t do that again, not for this job, not for my pride, not for any reason. If you have a problem with that, then you can—”

The door flew open and a voice cut Laine off. “Now, come on, Laine, don’t say something you might regret.”

Laine looked up and Nixon whipped his head around to stare at the man standing in the doorway.

“Who the fu—” Nixon was already rising from his seat in a show of aggression that Laine had never seen before, but didn’t bode well for the shorter, dark-haired man smirking as he lounged against the doorframe.

“Matt! Sit down.” Laine smiled and wondered that his nerves weren’t fried at this point. “This is my former partner from Houston PD, Detective Richard Montoya. I think he’s here to help.”

Nixon stopped in his tracks but didn’t return to his seat. Instead, he stood glaring at Montoya. The tension between the two men was so thick Laine wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d both pulled out their dicks and compared sizes. He started to say as much when Doreen appeared behind Montoya.

“I swear,” Doreen didn’t speak so much as almost cluck the words as she glared from Montoya to Matt, “I can’t even step into the ladies’ room without a bunch of preening peacocks popping up—though I might just shorten the word peacock if you two don’t stop acting like some chest-thumping Neanderthals.”

Laine laughed before he caught himself, startled by Doreen’s threat to call the men dicks, or cocks, rather, and earned Doreen’s flinty glare.

“I’m sorry, Doreen.” He wasn’t stupid, and Nixon normally wasn’t either, so why the man didn’t speak up was beyond Laine. As far as Montoya, he didn’t know Doreen would verbally annihilate him if he didn’t conform to her wishes, but he was a quick study, always had been. Montoya turned to Doreen and offered his hand.

“I apologize as well. Richard Montoya.”

Laine would just bet the man was flashing his knee-melting smile. Laine had seen that smile work its magic on dozens of women, and Doreen didn’t appear to be an exception.

“Well. All right then.” Doreen shook Montoya’s hand. “Doreen Crews. Don’t let that big guy glaring daggers at you bother you, he’s just protective of his friends, isn’t that right, Matt?” A grunt was the only answer Nixon made. “However, if you do happen to do anything that causes Sheriff Stenley any problems, Matt here’ll be the least of your problems.” Doreen’s smile widened in a way that was predatory rather than friendly. “You do that, and that pretty smile you gave me won’t save your butt, you hear me, boy?”

Maybe Rich is losing his touch. “Doreen—”

“I know, you need more coffee.” Doreen slipped into the room and walked over to grab Laine’s cup. She turned back to face Matt and Rich. “Now, I’m thinking I’ll fetch you two a cup of coffee as well, if y’all can behave.” Doreen shrugged, a physical ‘what can you do?’ “If you boys can’t play nice, far be it from me to hype you up with caffeine.”

“Fine,” Matt muttered as he returned to his seat. “I promise to behave.”

Rich laughed from the doorway and gave Doreen an innocent look as he waved a Styrofoam container at her. “What? I came prepared—and I always behave.” At Doreen’s snort, Rich winked at her then proceeded to walk right up to Laine’s desk and sit on the edge, his back to Matt in such a way that Matt was blocked from Laine’s view.

Laine sat back in his chair and tried not to be amused at the childish behavior. The two men were acting out of character, or at least Matt was. Laine wasn’t sure he knew Rich any more. Regardless, this needed to stop right now. Laine nudged Rich’s hip, hard, pushing him off the desk, and glared at Matt in such a way that the man didn’t dare to laugh.

“I’ve about had enough of this shit. You”—Laine pointed at Matt, ignoring the small bit of satisfaction he felt when the man flinched—“stop acting like an ass or I’ll send you out to Mrs. Hawkins’ place to take her report about a prowler.”

“Sheriff.” Matt sat forward,