Claiming His Family. Ann Peterson Voss
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patrons. But one of the men wasn’t a bartender by trade. Not by a long shot. The tall, dark-haired Texan serving drinks and hobnobbing with his fellow district attorneys after work was one of the best and most dedicated prosecutors in this or any other county. And he used to be her father’s right-hand man.
The man her father had tried to kill.
“It’s about time you joined us down here, Dex.” Dillon Reese’s smoky drawl rose over the laughter and hum of voices in the bar. “You haven’t been in here since my wedding.”
Dex gave him a nod. “I don’t want to do too much socializing with the troops, you know. Bad for the image. Pretty soon they’ll start seeing me as human.”
“No one would make that mistake.” Dillon lowered one lid in a teasing wink.
Alyson was surprised by the camaraderie forged between the two men. They hadn’t seen eye-to-eye on anything before her father’s death. Of course, her father had nurtured the rift between them.
Dillon gave Dex one last grin before focusing on her. The smile fell from his lips. “Howdy, Alyson.”
Somewhere she found the strength to nod. “Dillon.”
A thousand beats of her heart passed before he spoke again. “The Hefe Weizen is wonderful. You should try it. Jacqueline really outdid herself on this one.” His lips stretched into a gentle smile. An accepting smile. “On the house.”
Alyson’s breath escaped in a tortured whoosh. Dillon Reese had a heart the size of his native state if he could welcome her after what her father had tried to do to him and the woman he had since married. “Thanks, Dillon.”
As if she’d heard Alyson’s thoughts, Jacqueline Schettler Reese rounded the corner into the bar, flashing her husband a wide smile. Even though she was dressed in a boxy apron, the round shape of her pregnant tummy was clearly visible.
Neil Fitzroy’s crimes against Jacqueline were the worst of all. He and his accomplice, Buck Swain, had tried to kill Jacqueline’s daughter to keep her quiet after she’d witnessed her own father’s murder. Alyson had never met Jacqueline. And even after Dillon’s reaction, she didn’t want to meet her now.
“Dillon, I have to go pick up Amanda from her gymnastics class. Can you hold down the fort until the night shift gets set up?”
“Sure thing, darlin’.”
Jacqueline’s gaze landed on Dex. She gave him a big smile and poked her husband in the shoulder. “Haven’t you gotten Dex a beer yet, Dillon? It isn’t often we have the district attorney himself here. How are you doing, Dex?”
Dex returned her smile. “Nice seeing you again, Jacqueline.”
Jacqueline’s gaze moved to Alyson. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
Alyson held her breath. She would give anything to crawl into a hole about now.
Dex didn’t even flinch. “This is Alyson Fitzroy.”
Jacqueline’s blue eyes widened. “Alyson—”
“Fitzroy.” Alyson pulled herself up, ready to take Jacqueline’s contempt square in the face. “I’m sorry for the hell my father put you through.”
Jacqueline took a deep breath. When she exhaled, a polite smile lifted the corners of her lips. “Thank you. I’m sorry for the hell he put you through, as well.”
Alyson’s throat closed. Since her father’s death she’d felt ostracized from her former life, her former friends. People who knew she was Neil Fitzroy’s daughter had cooled toward her as if her father’s sins had tainted her. She’d lost more than Dex and her father the day Neil Fitzroy died. She’d lost who she was—who she used to be.
Never had she expected to be welcomed by Dillon and Jacqueline. Never had she dreamed she’d be welcomed back into the fold by the two people her father had hurt most. “Thank you.”
Dex looked down at her.
A chill sank into her bones.
Jacqueline’s and Dillon’s acceptance was small comfort when faced with the hard line of Dex’s mouth and the judgmental glint in his eye. She’d lost so much. So much that she’d never get back. No matter how much kindness strangers showed her, she could never regain the relationship that had meant the most to her. She could never undo the choices she’d made.
“SO WHAT will it be? Dex? Alyson?” Dillon drawled. “Two pints of Hefe Weizen have your names on them.”
Dex held up a hand. He really should take Dillon up on the offer sometime, try to do more to smooth over the rift that had been between them. But now wasn’t the time. “We’ll have to take a rain check, Dillon. I need to talk to Cohen. Thought he might be down here. Have you seen him?”
Dillon nodded and pointed to a booth in the corner. Tall and thin, John Cohen hunched over a beer alone. Perfect. He nodded his thanks to Dillon and started across the pub.
Alyson walked close enough behind for him to catch the ghost of her scent, even over the aromas of cigarette smoke, fried food and beer. He’d tried to talk her out of coming to the Schettler Brew Pub. As angry as he was with her, he didn’t want to see her hurt. And he’d been sure coming here, digging into old wounds Fitz had left in his wake, would only hurt her.
He blew a relieved sigh through tense lips. Leave it to Dillon and Jacqueline to push aside their hatred for Fitz to embrace his daughter. Now if Dex could only push aside his concern for Alyson and focus on getting answers from Cohen, maybe they would get somewhere.
Reaching his destination, Dex folded himself into the booth, opposite Cohen. He moved over enough for Alyson to slide in next to him. “Hello, Cohen.”
Cohen looked up from his beer. A smile touched with the fine edge of cynicism spread over his lips. “Dex. Finally coming down from your ivory tower to join in the fun?”
Cynicism wasn’t uncommon in the district attorney’s office. God knew they dealt with enough nasty people doing nasty things to one another to get a bit jaded over the years. But John Cohen elevated cynicism to an art form. Dex gestured to the bar. “The fun looks like it’s going on over there, Cohen. Not here.”
“Are you saying I’m not fun?” Cohen shrugged. “What else is new?” Cohen’s gaze flicked to Alyson. He sized her up with deep brown eyes that had no doubt melted a few women’s hearts along the way. This time, the smile that spread over his lips was one of pure amusement. “I’ll be damned. I haven’t seen you in a long time, Alyson.”
Alyson smiled and nodded. “We have some questions for you, John.”
Cohen crooked a brow and glanced from Alyson to Dex. “So the two of you are a ‘we’ again?”
“No,” Dex said without looking at Alyson. He couldn’t bear to see the hurt look on her face. He leveled a pointed stare on Cohen. “We just came from the prison in Grantsville.” Dex paused, watching Cohen’s eyes.
If Cohen had any reaction, he hid it well.
Dex pushed on. “It seems you’ve been out there recently, as well.”
“And you want to know why?” Cohen’s gaze darted away from them and landed on a waitress walking toward him with a plate stacked with a burger and thick wedges of fried potatoes. “About time. I’m famished.”
The waitress served the food. “Would you like to order?”
“No. Thank you,” Dex said without taking his eyes from Cohen.
Next to him, he could feel Alyson shake her head. Satisfied everyone was taken care of, the waitress left.
“So why were you at the prison, Cohen?”
Cohen paused, seemingly sorting through his memory. “What prison was that?”
Dex balled his