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

not to stare, not to make it obvious that he was checking Severo out. Which was stupid, because as sheriff, Laine always checked out newcomers, a quick sweep to form a judgment as to whether or not he needed to keep an eye on them. It shouldn’t have been any different this time around, but it was, and if the look on Brendon’s face was anything to go by, Laine had given something away by varying from his usual behavior. He couldn’t explain why this particular stranger seemed dangerous to him, why he couldn’t risk turning around and studying the man. It was ridiculous, but Laine had felt exposed as soon as he’d caught a glimpse of the man’s light brown skin, the sharp angle of his chin, as if, in seeing the man, Laine was risking everyone else seeing him.

Brendon scoffed at Laine’s proclamation. “Please. He’s all of five-six and a hundred and thirty pounds dripping wet. How much trouble could he be?”

Zeke saved Laine from answering. “That little dark-haired guy? Babe, it’s always the little ones you have to watch out for. They have that whole Napoleon complex going on.” Zeke winked at Brendon and opened his menu. “He was a cute little guy, though.”

“And gay,” Brendon pointed out, still watching Laine, who decided a grunt was the only answer to that statement. “And he has balls—”

“Well, I’d think so,” Zeke cut in, grinning. Laine was relieved to see Zeke had gotten past his nervous discomfort. The man’s hands were steady as he opened his menu.

“Smart ass.” Brendon flicked a glance at the waitress, Irma, who was watching them with a petulant look on her face. “It seems our waitress thought there might be more to you accepting a helping hand from Laine than there really was. She wanted to know if you were already cheating on me.”

The blood in Laine’s veins iced over. He grabbed Zeke’s forearm when he started to rise and pulled the man back down, frowning at Irma as Zeke’s muscles tightened under his hand.

“No need to get in a tizzy,” Laine said as he let go of Zeke, still pinning Irma with a glare.

Fear and anger warred in Laine. He didn’t need people stirring up rumors about his sexual preference. If I have to hide it, maybe I shouldn’t be here. But where else can I go? And am I willing to lie to keep my job? Laine didn’t have any answers for those questions, but it didn’t stop him from tipping his head at Irma. She came to their table, her lip curled in disgust.

“What do you want?” Irma didn’t even bother trying to sound polite, so neither did Laine.

“An explanation.” Laine hadn’t had a problem with Irma before, not in the three years he’d lived here. She’d flirted, he’d avoided, and apparently that was a good move whether he was gay or straight. The woman had a sneer that could cause a man’s balls to drop off.

“I’m not the one who needs to explain why he was walking around all lovey-dovey with a queer.” Irma spat the words out, her knuckles going white on the pen she was gripping.

Anger burst and spread through Laine, an explosion so forceful he saw spots dance before his eyes. He was on his feet before he knew it, Zeke and Brendon flanking him. He heard the kitchen doors swing open, and the sound of scuttling footsteps helped him rein in his temper. It wouldn’t do any good to blast Irma—he needed to stay calm.

“Is there a problem here?” Virginia, who’d owned the café for decades, looked from Laine and his friends to Irma, then back again. “Sheriff?”

Laine was so disgusted he didn’t know what to say, but Irma didn’t have the same problem. She turned to Virginia, her shoulders rigid and her voice shrill.

“I was just pointing out that our good sheriff seemed to be awfully friendly with the town queers.” Irma glanced back at Laine and smirked before facing Virginia again. “He had his arm wrapped around that one.” Her hand flopped behind her in Zeke’s direction. “Looked all too friendly. Makes me wonder, you know, since there ain’t a woman around here who he’s ever dated.”

“Well, if you’re anything like the female options here, it’s no wonder.”

Laine didn’t know whether he wanted to high five Brendon or deck him. He settled for ignoring him. An angry flush had covered Irma’s face, and she looked ready to attack Brendon. Laine’s common sense kicked in. This situation needed to be defused, but Virginia’s jaw had dropped down and she was looking at Irma like the waitress was the antichrist.

“Irma Jean!” Virginia sputtered and snapped her mouth shut. “You know better than to start rumors and gossip like that! You owe these men an apology, right now.”

“But, Aunt Virginia—” Irma wheedled, her head dropping down low.

Virginia wasn’t having it. “I mean it, Irma Jean. You apologize, then you clock out and gather your things. Go home and think about how much trouble running your mouth is going to get you in.” Virginia reached out and tipped Irma’s head up, forcing Irma to look her in the eyes. “Because, I promise you, if I hear one whiff of rumor, one innuendo or one more hateful remark from you, I’ll fire you and send you back to live with your mama.” Virginia waited until Irma nodded then dropped her hand back to her side.

“Sorry,” Irma muttered, not sounding sorry at all in Laine’s opinion.

“Irma…” Virginia must not have thought it a sincere apology either as she reached out to grab Irma’s wrist as the waitress spun around and walked away.

“Let her go, Virginia. It’s not worth the trouble.” Laine turned to Zeke and Brendon. “Ya’ll good with eating here still?”

“Reckon so. It isn’t Virginia’s fault Irma decided to get, uh, snarky.” Zeke slid back into his seat and rested his cane against his knee. Brendon nodded and sat beside him. “Besides, it’s not like we can pick our