Night of the Raven. Jenna Ryan
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“Is that why I have four gouges in my left cheek?”
“You tackled me in my grandmother’s house. Maybe you’re renting it at the moment, but I didn’t know that going in.”
“Breaking in.”
Her lips curved. “I’m fairly certain that using a key to enter a property can’t be construed as a break-in. However, to answer your question, yes, I’m annoyed, just not for the reason you probably think.” Lowering the visor, she regarded the tangled mess of her hair, sighed and began rooting through her shoulder bag for a brush. “I liked it.”
“I know.”
She heard the amusement in his tone and told herself not to react. “I know you know. That’s why I’m annoyed. Tell me—” she worked the brush through the tangles “—do you eat midnight snacks?”
“Not anymore.” He swung onto Main Street, made a wide U-turn and stopped in a no-parking zone. “You might want to stay behind me when we go inside. I see two broken windows.”
“I see four. I hope whoever broke them likes mucking out stables. Male or female, when it comes to serious property damage, Uncle Lazarus is a tyrant.”
“You know your family’s a little scary, right?”
“Which side?”
“Take your pick,” he said as they approached the front door. “Now, unless your repertoire contains a curse for every occasion, remember to stick close when we go in.”
Low lights tinged with red burned throughout the bar. Kiss rocked the jukebox and glass crunched like pebbles underfoot. Oh, yeah, Amara thought, Uncle Lazarus would be plenty pissed.
To the left of the entryway, behind a long line of pool tables, a dozen broken chairs and tables sat in a cockeyed heap. Groups of customers continued to hurl insults back and forth across the remaining tables. Amara spotted more than a few drops of blood both on the people and on the floor.
“Well, hallelujah, Chief, you made it.” A tall man with receding brown hair, heavy stubble and bean-black eyes pushed through the crowd. He wore a tan T-shirt, a shoulder holster and a frown that became a sneer when he spied his newly arrived Bellam cousin.
“Spit and I’ll suspend you,” McVey warned, not looking at him. “I assume you two have met.”
“I know who she is.” A muscle twitched in Jake’s jaw. “She don’t look much different than she did the night she gave my brother Jimbo the screaming meemies up on Raven’s Ridge.”
“I imagine that was unintentional, Deputy.”
As a wave of people began to enfold him, Amara shrugged. “It wasn’t, actually. I meant to scare him, and it worked.”
“Jimbo was a year and a half younger than you,” Jake accused.
“He was also forty pounds heavier, six inches taller and trying very hard to coax me into jumping off the edge of the cliff.”
“You could’ve said no.”
“He said he didn’t like that word. Push, though...he liked that word a lot.”
Jake thrust his chin out. “He was a kid.”
“So was I.”
“He still half believes one of his spooky Bellam cousins can talk to ravens and make them do her bidding. Frigging witch.”
Losing patience, Amara regarded him through her lashes. “Don’t tempt me. I’m older now and less...tolerant.”
Jake showed his teeth but didn’t, she noticed, utter another word.
“Smart man.” Through a crowd that was now vying loudly for his attention, McVey indicated the carnage in the corner. “How many arrests have you made?”
Jake dragged his resentful gaze from Amara. “Six. When you didn’t show, I called the Hardens in to help out.”
“Part-time Hollow deputies,” McVey said over his shoulder. “Twins.”
“Thick as bricks, the pair of them.” Jake snarled at a trio of men who elbowed him aside and began pleading their cases to McVey. “The Hardens are kin to Tyler Blume. No idea why he took the job, but Tyler’s the police chief here in the Hollow.” He raised his voice. “A town we Cove cops are being forced to watch over while he’s off snorkeling with his new Bellam wife.”
“That would be my cousin Molly.” When McVey shifted his attention from the squabbling men to arch a brow in Amara’s direction, she let her eyes sparkle. “It gets complicated very quickly if you start talking relatives around here. Think of me and Nana as the link between two feuding families.” Without missing a beat, she offered a placid, “Say missing link, Jake, and you’ll have hemorrhoids by the end of your shift.”
She felt the deputy’s glare before he pushed his way to McVey’s other side.
A man with a pockmarked face and no neck shouted over Amara’s head, “Was a Blume who started it, McVey. Called our beer donkey—er, well, anyway, he accused Yolanda of cutting it.”
Amara poked McVey’s hip. “Does Yolanda Bellam manage this bar?”
“More or less.... Yeah, Frank, I heard you.... From your expression, I’d speculate you and Yolanda aren’t BFFs.”
“Put it this way, if I’d known she was here, I’d have taken my chances with the shooter up at Nana’s.”
On cue, a high female voice sliced through the predominately male grumbles. “Amara? My God, is it really you?”
Her cousin had a little-girl drawl, glossy pink lips and red-blond curls clipped back at the sides to show off her angelic face.
Yeah, right, angelic, Amara thought, tipping her lips into a smile as a pair of wide blue eyes joined the mix. “Hey, Yolanda. It’s been— Well, years.”
Her cousin pushed a man out of her path, slung the dish towel she carried over her shoulder and spread her arms in welcome.
“Cousin Ammie’s back. And isn’t she a living doll? She brought me the best present ever.” Those welcoming arms knocked Amara aside and wrapped themselves tightly around McVey’s neck. “How’s the handsomest lawman on the East Coast tonight?” Her eyes and mouth grew suddenly tragic. “You’ll make them pay, won’t you, McVey? I tried, but I couldn’t get any such promise out of your mean-mouthed deputy.”
Amara’s opinion of Jake shot up ten full points. She wasn’t so sure about McVey.
To his credit, however, he removed her clinging arms, sent Amara a humorous look and headed for the pool tables, where three men with pierced body parts were holding their cues like baseball bats.
Yolanda pouted after him...until someone stepped on her foot and then the pout became a snarl. “You still nipping chins and lifting butts?”
Unruffled, Amara smiled. “Why? Are you looking for a freebie?”
“I wouldn’t come to you if I was.”
“Only because we apply the word in different ways.”
Yolanda’s fists balled. “I could blacken both your eyes, you know.”
“I’d say the same, except you’ve already done it yourself.”
“I— Damn!” Wiping a finger under her lower lashes, Yolanda scowled. “Some dumb Blume threw a beer and got me square in the face.” She gave her other eye a wipe. “Talk to me, Amara. Why have you come here after fifteen years of not here?”
“I wanted to see Nana.”
“In that case, Portland’s an hour’s drive south and have a nice flight. Nana’s in St. Croix. Or maybe it’s the Cayman Islands. Anyway, you’ll find