Perfect Partners (16 page)

His answering smile would have done credit to a shark. “Is that a fact?”

Letty abandoned the forceful approach. “Joel, please. Think of the company image. It won't look good to have the CEO of Thornquist Gear going out to a local tavern to get smashed.”

“Screw the company image.” Joel took a menacing step forward. “And screw the company president.”

Letty retreated hastily into her room and quickly slammed the door. She threw the bolt for good measure. Then she leaned back against the wood panels and closed her eyes as she listened to the sound of Joel's footsteps fade into the distance.

T
he first person Joel saw when he walked into the Anchor was Keith Escott. Which only went to show, Joel supposed, that nagging women were a universal problem that cut across all social boundaries. And the Anchor existed to serve both the high and the low.

In a larger town a man in Escott's position might have found another place to do his serious drinking, but in Echo Cove, there was not much choice.

Escott was sitting on a stool at the end of the bar, hunched over a whiskey in the best traditional style. He was wearing a maroon and white V-necked sweater and cuffed trousers. The outfit did set him apart, sartorially speaking, Joel decided. Most of the rest of the clientele in the Anchor were dressed in heavy work boots, denim pants, and plaid shirts.

Joel felt a brief jolt of pity for Escott. It could not have been easy being married to the princess of Echo Cove. And working for Victor Copeland was probably sheer unadulterated hell. It occurred to Joel that he had had one heck of a narrow escape fifteen years earlier.

It was not the first time that thought had flashed through his mind. Not that the realization changed anything.

Fifteen years ago he'd had some crazy notion of trying to rescue Diana from her golden cage. She'd encouraged him to think she needed him to snatch her away from her domineering father and carry her off on his white horse.

Convinced he was in love and that his love was reciprocated, Joel had vowed to play knight-errant. He could only shake his head in disgust now over his youthful naïveté.

Diana had not needed or wanted rescuing. She had just been looking for a taste of the forbidden, and Joel Blackstone was definitely on her father's list of forbidden things.

Joel was not in a conversational mood tonight. He scanned the row of stools at the bar and chose one at the opposite end from where Keith Escott sat.

“What'll it be?” the stout, balding bartender demanded.

Joel looked at him. “I'll have a beer, Stan. Whatever you've got on draft these days. Not the light stuff.”

Stan frowned blankly. “Do I know you?” Then his furrowed brow cleared. “Hell, it's you, Blackstone. Heard you was back in town. Working for that Thornquist woman or something, ain't you?”

Joel set his teeth. “Yeah. Something like that.”

“Is it true about Thornquist Gear ownin' a chunk of Copeland Marine?”

“It's true.”

Stan rested his elbow on the bar and leaned closer. He kept his voice low as he picked up a glass and started polishing it. “There's a rumor goin' 'round that Thornquist Gear is gonna shut down Copeland's yard.”

“I see the rumor mill still works real well here in Echo Cove. You going to get me that beer, Stan, or do I get it myself?”

Stan sighed and pushed himself erect. He shoved the glass he had been polishing under the nearest spigot and pulled the lever. When the glass was full and foaming, he set it in front of Joel. “So?”

“So what?”

“So is the rumor true or what?”

“It's true.”

“Christ Almighty.” The whispered words were a fervent prayer. Stan shook his head in despair. “It's gonna kill the town.”

Joel scowled into his beer. “Blame Copeland. He's the one who got his yard into a financial mess. Thornquist Gear has kept him afloat for the past year. Can't expect me…” Joel cleared his throat with a swallow of beer. “Can't expect us to go on rescuing him forever.”

Stan's eyes narrowed in speculation. “You never were too fond of Copeland, were you?”

“You know anyone who is?”

Stan's gaze locked on to Joel's. “So he's an s.o.b. Most guys in his position are, if you ask me. One thing I'll say for him—he's kept a lot of people in this town working for the past thirty-some years.”

“He didn't keep everyone working, Stan,” Joel said softly. “Some people got fired real easy, as I recall.”

Stan was quiet for a moment. “What the hell did you expect after he caught you messing around with his daughter?”

Joel shrugged. “I figured he'd probably try to beat the crap out of me. Run me out of town.”

“So you got off light. He didn't beat the crap out of you.”

“He tried.” Flashes of the grim scene in the old barn went through Joel's head. “Used a length of solid teak that he brought with him from the yard.”

Stan eyed Joel thoughtfully. He picked up another glass and started polishing it. “I didn't hear about that part. I take it you survived.”

“Mostly because he was almost as big and slow fifteen years ago as he is now,” Joel admitted.

“So he fired your ass and ran you out of town. And you didn't get the girl.” Stan glanced down the length of the bar to where Escott was sitting. “If you ask me, you were lucky.”

“I was just thinking the same thing, myself.”

“Tell me something. This business of you workin' for Thornquist and Thornquist gettin' ready to shut down the yard. It ain't all one big coincidence, is it?”

Joel smiled faintly. “You were always smarter than you looked, Stan. No, it isn't a coincidence, is it?”

Stan scowled. “You're gonna persuade that Miss Thornquist to close down the yard and a good chunk of this town just because you didn't get the girl fifteen years ago?”

“No,” Joel said. “Not because of that.”

“Then why in hell you gonna do it?” Stan demanded.

“Business.” Joel took another long swallow of beer. “Just good sound business reasons, Stan. Nothing personal.”

“Bullshit. There's a lot of good people who are gonna wind up in real trouble if you go through with this.”

“Good people, Stan? Nice people like you, maybe? You think I give a damn what happens to folks like you?”

Stan glared at him, looking uneasy. “Now, see here, Blackstone. I had nothing to do with what happened between you and Copeland. And it sure as hell ain't my fault your father got drunk and drove himself off a cliff that night.”

“Not your fault, Stan? You were serving the drinks. You knew exactly how drunk he was, didn't you?”

“He was drunk, damn it. I know you don't believe that, but your old man was soused. And you can't blame me for it, neither. Not my job to get in the way of a man's drinkin',” Stan huffed. He looked ready to add to his own defense, but at that moment he glanced past Joel. He nodded brusquely at whoever was standing there and took himself off to the far end of the bar.

Joel glanced over his shoulder and saw Keith Escott. “'Evening, Escott. But you a drink?”

“You've got a hell of a lot of nerve, you son of a bitch.” Keith's voice was low and tight as he slid somewhat ungracefully onto the neighboring stool. He turned to confront Joel, one arm lying along the bar. His hand was clenched. The smell of alcohol was strong on his breath. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

Joel picked up his beer. “I take it this is not a social call?”

Keith glared at him with angry, glassy eyes. “I know what happened today, you bastard. Damn you, I know all about it.”

“Yeah? What happened?”

“Diana went to your motel room. I know she was with you.”

Joel lowered his glass carefully onto the bar. “Take it easy, Escott. It wasn't what you think it was,” he said quietly.

“Did the two of you think I wouldn't find out? This is a small town, in case you've forgotten.”

“I haven't forgotten.”

Keith flushed. “She thinks you've come back here to take her away. She thinks you're going to rescue her.”

“She knows that's not true.” Joel looked at him. “Listen, Escott. I am not interested in Diana. I did not come back here because of her, and I have no intention of taking her away with me. Got that?”

“That's not what she thinks. And that's not what I think. You're here because of what happened fifteen years ago. Admit it, God damn you.”

“I'm here because of something that happened fifteen years ago,” Joel said quietly. “But it had nothing to do with Diana.”

“You wanted to marry her.”

“I changed my mind.”

Keith braced himself against the edge of the bar and stood up. “You mean
she
changed
her
mind. She came to her senses and wouldn't run off with you. Why should she? You were just some no-account scum who worked in her father's boatyard. Fun to fool around with for a while, maybe, but why in hell would she want to marry you?”

“Right. Why would she want to marry me? I had nothing to offer Diana. She made that real clear.”

“But you look different to her now.” Keith's voice was getting louder. “You come back here looking like a high-power corporate executive, and she thinks you've turned into her knight in shining armor. The one who's going to take her away from all this.” His arm swept out in a broad arc that connected with his whiskey glass.

The glass crashed to the floor, causing the nearest patron to scramble off his stool. A sudden silence descended on the Anchor as heads turned toward Keith and Joel.

“Take it easy, Escott.” Joel kept his voice low. “Sit down. I'll buy you another whiskey.”

“You won't buy me shit.” Keith swayed slightly but stayed upright. “I know what you are, Blackstone. You're the same lowlife Copeland says you were fifteen years ago. Maybe you've got a little more money to throw around these days, but we all know why that is, don't we?”

“Shut up, Escott,” Joel advised quietly.

“You got money and a big-time executive title now because you're fucking the owner of Thornquist Gear.
Isn't that right?
How does it feel to sleep your way to the top? How does it feel to be Ms. Letitia Thornquist's private stud? You on call twenty-four hours a day?”

Joel came up off the stool without any warning. In spite of his inebriated condition, Keith was ready for him. He swung wildly.

Joel ducked beneath Keith's arm and went in close just long enough to throw a short, solid punch. Then he stepped back quickly.

Keith doubled over from the blow to his midsection. He staggered backward, but stayed on his feet. “You son of a bitch. I'll teach you to mess around with other men's wives. You can't have Diana.” He surged forward.

Chairs scraped along the floor of the Anchor as everyone darted out of the way of the two combatants. A circle formed around Joel and Keith, but no one made any move to get involved. This was no free-for-all. Joel knew why. This was between Copeland's handpicked son-in-law and the man who had come back to shut down Echo Cove.

Keith lashed out with a surprisingly well-aimed blow that caught Joel on the side of his face. Joel saw a few stars as he reeled back. Escott was not as soft as he looked.

Escott pressed his advantage, sidling in close for another solid roundhouse.

Joel threw up his arm to block the punch. “This isn't going to solve anything,” he snarled. “I learned that a long time ago.”

“If you'd learned anything, you wouldn't have come back here, you bastard.” Keith delivered a well-coordinated kick with his left foot.

Joel took the heavy blow on his left thigh. He lost his balance and went down to the hardwood floor. It occurred to him that he was making a complete fool of himself in front of the patrons of the Anchor.

So much for the virtues of sweet reason.

In the distance a siren wailed.

Keith launched another kick at Joel's ribs. Joel managed to catch hold of Escott's ankle. He jerked hard.

Escott fell with a thud. Joel rolled on top of him, pinning him to the floor.

Lights from a police cruiser flashed through the windows of the tavern. An instant later the door flew open.

“Everybody freeze,” the young cop roared. “You two on the floor. Don't move.”

“Shit,” Joel muttered. It struck him then that Letty was not going to be pleased with this new development.

Letty knew she was not going to get to sleep until Joel returned to his room. She gave up the effort and got out of bed to turn on the television.

Fifteen minutes of late-night programming was almost more than she could take. She sat through an interview with a celebrity who had recently completed his fourth therapeutic stay at a fashionable substance-abuse clinic. The actor assured the audience and the show's host that this time he was definitely cured. Then she watched the talk-show host make a lot of incredibly tasteless jokes about a female guest's cleavage. When the host started in on the cleavage of the male guest, Letty got up again and turned off the TV.

She went over to the window and stared out into the darkness. Echo Cove lay shrouded in light fog and heavy silence.

The uneasiness Letty had been feeling since Joel stormed off into the night was growing stronger. When she found herself starting to pace her room, Letty got mad.

He was in some sleazy tavern having a great time, she decided. He was probably guzzling beer, ramming quarters into a jukebox, and dancing with every loose female in the place.

He had never once danced with her, Letty realized. Not once. Oh, he had made love to her, all right, but he had never taken her dancing.