Never Cry Mercy (3 page)

The kitchen door banged and swung open again. Both men diverted their gazes down the bar to the other end of the room.

"Linus," a woman said. "Get your damn hand off him. Now, I mean it. Both of you, get back to your table."

The skinny guy, Linus, let go, brushing my shoulder off before retreating back a few steps and ultimately returning to his seat. His heavy partner had already found his way to their table. My gaze bounced between the pair, waiting to see if either decided to defy the woman.

And who was this woman? She commanded the two men, who easily combined for five hundred pounds, like they were her children. They cowered off to their corner without a word in return.

I turned to face her, expecting to see someone who matched my old partner Bear in stature, and possibly looks.

But she didn't.

She looked like someone I'd known years before. A woman who'd been in my life for a brief period of time, but left one hell of an impact. A crater I hadn't managed to crawl all the way out of.

She wasn't an exact replica, though. The face, eyes, shape and size of her body, they were as I remembered. But the hair was wrong. Too short. Too trendy. Too blonde.

The woman stood with the edge of the door pressed into her back. Smoke from the grill wafted through. Her stare was fixed on me. Her lips remained parted, like she'd become stuck mid-breath. Had she stopped breathing?

She made her way down the bar, eyes narrowed, head angled. A dozen memories flooded my mind as I recalled the intricate web of secrets that drew us together the first time.

She stopped in front of me. Brushed her short hair back.

There was no doubt of her identity as I stared into her eyes.

"Reese," I said under my breath.

I'd met Reese McSweeny several years ago when a job Frank Skinner had brought to me turned upside-down in every way imaginable. Reese was an NYPD homicide detective, but her story ran far deeper than that of a cop. A foster brother turned SOG operative. A husband turned terrorist supporter. In the end, all forces merged into one final showdown, and she was forced into witness protection. I'd often wondered what had become of her. Never imagined she'd end up working in a dive bar in the middle of nowhere.

She leaned in close to me. Her mouth was inches away. The mixture of grill smoke and her body lotion made my mouth water and my face burn with desire.

"Jack," she whispered. "Don't call me that. Everyone here knows me as Billie."

"Billie, huh? They give you a last name?"

She started to answer, but her eyes shifted to her right, toward Linus and his partner. "We can't talk like this right now. They'll get suspicious. Can you stay for a while?"

"I got all night."

And maybe tomorrow, too. It was a good thing I had a place to stay and no car to get me out of town.

Her hand brushed against mine. "We'll talk when this place empties out."

As she walked away, Linus called out, "The hell, Billie? You know this guy?"

"Shut the hell up, Linus."

The kitchen door swung shut behind her. The bar fell silent. I didn't have to check the mirror to know that Linus and his buddy were staring me down. Perhaps knowing something was close to going down, the bald guy emerged from the kitchen and, with a slight nod at me, took a seat at the other end of the bar. He made no move to conceal his holstered pistol.

I watched the two men in the mirror. The heavy guy leaned across and said something to Linus. All I could see was the back of his head. The skinny man nodded at his partner. Linus dropped a wad of crumpled cash on the table, then both men rose and headed toward the door. They stopped behind me, a few feet further back than before. One of them was pretty ripe, their body odor overwhelming any other smell in the place.

How had I missed that before?

Must've been the steak. Now that my cut had chilled, it wasn't giving off the same aroma.

These weren't ordinary guys. They perceived me as a threat, and felt they had to take a stand before I made a move. That told me they were involved in something, and that they wanted no part of me getting involved.

Drugs? A theft ring? Herding people across the border?

Could be anything, although the choice of location for their operations left a lot to be desired. One thing it did offer was a sense of anonymity. Not in the town, of course. Hell, this was the kind of place where everybody knew everybody. I'm sure, in a way, they felt safer because of that. They were the town badasses. No one would mess with them. More importantly, no one would talk. And so in the grander picture, no one outside the small town would know who they were.

"That'll be all," the bald guy called out. He'd shifted on the stool, letting his right hand hang loosely over the butt of his pistol. The other arm had disappeared behind his large body. I figured he had a sap or crowbar or a pipe dangling from that hand. Just give him a reason, assholes.

Linus threw up his hands mockingly and stormed out of the bar with his partner right behind him. I knew that wouldn't be the last time I encountered them.

Chapter 6

It took two hours for the bar to clear out. A few more locals came in, either solo or in pairs. Didn't matter. They all knew each other. They had a couple beers, a burger, and then went on their way. Nobody paid much attention to the stranger at the bar. These weren't the kind of folks who would care. I threatened neither them nor their operations in town.

Reese bounced between the kitchen, bar, and the floor. She did her best to ignore me. I did the same. No point drawing any more attention to ourselves. Still, there were several moments where our eyes met and lingered a couple seconds too long.

After the last guest had left, the bald guy walked over to me. "I'm heading out. You gonna be OK if those guys show up?"

I nodded. "They won't be a problem."

"They might not be, but you don't want to move up the chain past them. Things get messy at that level." He stared out the window for a few seconds, scratched his beard. "You can ask Billie to fill in the details if you want to know more. I need to keep my damn mouth shut."

I tried not to dwell too much on what he said. The two guys weren't a problem. But whoever they worked for might be. My best course of action was avoiding all of them. Talk to Reese to get a feel for what the threat level was in town. Hang around with her a couple days. Move on.

Perfect plan. Or at least I could convince myself it was.

The bald guy cut the barroom lights on his way out, immersing the area into one large shadow. It made it easier to see what was happening on the street outside. Which wasn't much. The area appeared deserted. A blinking light cast a yellow wash over the street and sidewalk every five seconds.

"People are going to ask how you know me."

I hadn't heard Reese exit the kitchen. She fumbled underneath the bar and retrieved two bottles. Handed one to me.

"The big guy ask?" I said.

"He knows I have a past." She took a long pull from the bottle, swallowed hard, exhaled against the carbonation burn. "And that I don't like to talk about it. He probably assumed you're someone I knew before I came here. None of his business. He's the kind that figures the less he knows, the better."

"He got a background?"

She nodded, said nothing. Didn't have to. I could tell by his demeanor he'd traveled on the outskirts of the paths I lived on.

"I've thought about you over the years," I said. "I don't normally do that. Once someone exits my life, they're gone."

She focused on the bottle cap she flipped between her fingers. "I didn't exit, Jack. I was forced out."

"I always wondered, you know, where we stood. We never got to talk about this. How much of it was an act?"

She lined our bottles up between us. A smile lingered on her lips as she contemplated the question.

"You don't have to answer that," I said.

"I can't answer that," she said. "I'm no longer that woman. This...experience...has changed me. I don't know if it's for the better, either."

"You'll always be that woman." I reached out. Her hand felt cold beneath mine. "No place or job or forced life can change who you are."

"You think that, but reality paints quite a different picture." She pulled her hand to her chest, covered it with the other. "You don't know me anymore, Jack. And Detective Reese McSweeney might as well be dead. I mean, that's how I think of her. I'm Billie Weddle now. Got it?"

I said nothing. So many years had passed; we were both different people. Christ, I'd been set up by just about everyone I had faith and trust in, on some level. Everything in my world had been yanked out from under my feet. Why else was I traveling alone across the country?

My time with Reese had been brief, but intense. In many ways. Perhaps that's why the feeling lingered, and now rose so close to the surface.

"So, what are you doing here?" she asked after a few silent minutes.

"Passing through."

"Really?" Her gaze shifted to the door for a second. "You weren't sent here for
some
reason?"

I took a moment to imagine what life was like for her now. Stuck here in this one spot, always checking over her shoulder, startled by shadows. Never able to let her guard down because the moment she did, some asshole like me would show up and attempt to take her life.

"No reason," I said. "I'm not working. I don't work for anyone anymore. I really was just passing through. Damn Jeep died on me."

"Was?"

"I planned on leaving in the morning, but I'm thinking I might extend the trip a few extra days. Seems this little town does have a couple sights I'd like to see."

She smiled, leaned forward, reached for her beer.

"So what's the story with those biker guys?" I asked.

Reese's smile faded, and her eyebrows drew tight, while her lips thinned and the skin on her face tightened. "Couple of locals is all."

"Locals, huh? They sure seemed scared of you."

She looked toward the street, then back at me with an intense gaze. "They know I won't take any of their crap."

"Why does it feel like you're leaving an awful lot out of this story?"

"Look, Jack. The less you know, the better. This isn't your average small town. There are things going on here. And someone who is just passing through has no need to make what happens in Texline their business. Understand?"

"Maybe I should go in the morning." I slid my empty bottle across the bar to her.

"Maybe you should." She tossed it into the trash without looking. Perfect shot. The bottle shattered against the others.
 

Her eyes and the look on her face gave nothing away. She hadn't lost the ability to stonewall someone. I was a suspect she was preparing to interrogate. Didn't matter if she knew without a doubt that I was innocent, she'd break me into giving a confession or get every last bit of information out of me she could.

"Easy, detective," I said.

She rolled her eyes and took a step back while crossing her arms over her chest. "Look, I didn't ask you to show up here. You did that on your own. I'd love for you to stay a few days. Get reacquainted and all that. But you need to leave it at that. Don't get involved with this town and what's going on. If you do, you might not make it out."

"No worries there, Reese. My days of getting involved are over."

"Billie," she said. "You need to start calling me Billie. Anyone overhears you using my old name, it could cause problems. All it takes is one asshole to ask a question or make a remark to the wrong person here."

"OK, then, Billie, you don't have to worry about me causing a problem. As long as they stay out of my way, I'm out of theirs. I'm done solving other people's problems. Getting involved and watching everyone and everything that means anything to me die. I'm finished with the life. I'm just gonna drive around until the smoke clears, get my daughter, and settle down on the coast, or an island."

"Daughter?"

I nodded, smiled, pulled a wrinkled picture from my pocket and handed it to her.

"She's beautiful," she said, tracing the image of the girl. "What's her name?"

"Mia."

"Where is she?"

"Best I don't say. Never know what might happen."

She lifted an eyebrow and shrugged. "I'm sure her mother's taking good care of her."

"Only if she's watching over her from a cloud."

"Oh." Reese seemed taken aback. "Sorry, I didn't know."

"How could you? It happened recently. We had reconnected."

Reese drew her right cheek in and nibbled on it.

"Wasn't like that," I said. "We tried, it just wasn't there anymore. So we stayed friends, and I became active in their lives. Huge mistake. I know that's how they found her. I'm the reason she's dead, and Mia is in hiding."

The conversation turned to Reese's daily life, then died off. We each drank another beer, then headed out together into the cool, cloudy night. Reese was prepared and donned a Yankees sweatshirt.

"Can take the girl outta New York," she said with a wink.

"Horrible team," I said.

She rolled her eyes, then locked the door.

We got off Main Street and walked a few blocks in the dark.

"Got a place to stay?" she asked.

"A few blocks away," I said. "An old couple took me in. Herbie found me stranded on the road."

Reese smiled. "You met Ingrid and Herbie? They were the first ones to welcome me here. Got me the job at the bar. Herbie's cousin owns it."

"Besides the shop and the bar, what else does his cousin own?"

She laughed. "Different cousin. Besides, it's a small town, Jack. You have that kind of overlap in a place like this. Hell, I think his family built most of it anyway."

We stopped at the side entrance of the house. The clouds had parted, and the moon shone bright, glinting off Reese's eyes. I reached for her, took her hand in mine. She went along for a moment, and then pulled away.

"Not out here, Jack," she said. "Look, I'll be by in the morning."

"You OK out here alone?"

She pulled back, frowning and raising her fists like a boxer. "You think I can't take care of myself anymore."