Sam

When I awake the next morning, I am blissfully content. Cooper’s warm body is pressed up against my back, and his arm is around my waist, tucking me in close to him. His hand is splayed possessively over my belly. I’m surprised—but happy—that he’s still in bed with me. He’s usually such an early riser.

I stretch and groan.

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” he murmurs against the back of my head as he strokes my hair, latching onto my topknot and giving it a firm tug, which makes me groan. “We’ve got work to do. Jake’s already up.”

I crack my eyes open and reach for my phone to check the time. It’s eight o’clock. I’m surprised he let me sleep this long. “Is the paper out yet?”

“Yeah. It comes out at six-thirty am. Let’s get a move on.”

I shudder to think of what the reaction’s going to be to Cooper’s story now that it’s out—assuming Jenny Murphy kept her word and printed the story. I suppose a lot of people in this town simply won’t believe him. He’s essentially an outsider now, and he’s pointing the finger at three very prominent men in this small community—accusing them of murder.

Cooper slides his hand down to caress my right butt cheek. Then he gives it a light squeeze. “How do you feel?”

“Fantastic.”

“Are you sore? Was I too rough last night?”

“I’m a little sore, yes. And no, you weren’t too rough. I needed that, badly.”

He chuckles as he kisses my shoulder. “I did too.”

He smacks my thigh lightly as he sits up. “I’ve got to take a piss, clean up, and then speak to Jake for a minute. You get ready. We’ll be heading out soon.”

“Where to, exactly?”

“Probably back to the diner for breakfast, and to gauge the town’s reaction. Trust me, that diner is the main pulse point of this town. If there’s trouble, we’ll hear about it there.”

Cooper hops out of bed and heads to the bathroom. I lie in bed for a few indulgent moments and listen to the sounds of him getting ready. The flushing of the toilet is followed by the sound of water running. When I finally haul my ass out of bed, I stand in the open bathroom doorway and watch him brush his teeth. I like this little bit of domesticity. He’s usually long gone from my apartment by the time I wake up, so watching him do something as simple as getting ready in the morning is a rare treat.

He meets me in the bathroom doorway, dressed in jeans and a plain navy blue T-shirt that emphasizes his muscular chest. The fabric strains over his biceps and pecs, sending a wave of longing through me. The man is built like a fucking boss, and I’m ready for round two.

“You didn’t shave,” I say, reaching up to stroke his two-day stubble. “I like it.” Some days he’s clean-shaven, some days he lets his beard grow. I like how it feels on my skin when he kisses me.

“I think I’ll let it grow a while.” He pauses just long enough to give me a minty kiss. “Get dressed while I check in with Jake. I won’t be gone long.”

I watch him head for the adjoining door, admiring the way he moves, with just a hint of swagger. He looks like a man on a mission. Once he’s through the door and out of sight, I grab clean clothes from my duffle bag and my toiletries kit and head into the bathroom.

He walks into the bathroom just as I’m running a brush through my hair. Without saying a word, he reads the slogan on my T-shirt, My Boyfriend Is More Badass Than Yours, shakes his head, then takes the brush from me and brushes my hair, drawing it up into a high ponytail. Then he takes the hair band from me and expertly twists my hair into a topknot. “Ready to go?”

“Almost. What did you talk to Jake about?”

He shrugs. “Oh, just a logistical consideration. Nothing you need to worry about.”

I frown at his reflection in the cracked bathroom mirror. “Let me guess…I’m your logistical consideration.”

His expression hardens, and he reaches out to comb his fingers through my undercut. “I’ll trim this for you in a couple days. It’ll be ready then.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

His gaze meets mine in the mirror. “I already told you. You’re my weakness. They’ll go after you, not me.”

“What did you tell Jake?”

“I told him your safety comes first. If things go south, he’s to get you out of here and back to Chicago. I can take care of myself.”

I turn to face him, livid. “Bullshit! We’re not leaving you here alone!”

He smiles, gently cupping my face in his hands. “Sweetheart, it won’t be your call. It’ll be Jake’s. And trust me…Jake will hogtie you if necessary and physically remove you from danger.” He drops a sweet kiss on my lips, then turns and walks out of the bathroom, leaving me fuming.

My stomach drops like a stone as I stare at his retreating back. He’s dead serious. He would expect me to leave him here if the shit hit the fan. There’s no fucking way.

I finish up quickly and grab my chest holster, check my weapon, and suit up as well before joining Cooper standing by the motel door. He’s got his jacket on, which means he’s armed too. “I suppose I don’t need to ask,” I say, “but you’ve checked on the concealed carry laws here? We have reciprocity?”

He nods. “We do.”

I follow him outside, and he locks the door behind us. Outside on the sidewalk, I glance up at the wooden soffit above our door and spot a tiny surveillance camera. You’d never notice it if you weren’t looking for it. Jake’s got cameras on all our doors and windows, front and back of the building, all feeding into the standalone WIFI network he set up in his room.

The door to Jake’s room opens, and he walks out, dressed as usual in unrelenting black, his black hair freshly trimmed short. He looks like he’s ready to rumble.

He meets us at the SUV with a huge grin on his face. “I trust you both slept well last night.”

Oh, shit. He heard us. As I slide into the back seat beside Cooper, my face heats up. “I told you he could hear us,” I hiss. “The walls are paper thin.”

Cooper shrugs. “I told you, I’m sure he’s heard worse.”

Jake slides behind the driver’s wheel. “Yes, I’ve heard a lot worse. So, where to?” he says as he guns the engine.

“To the diner,” Cooper says. “Let’s get some breakfast and see what the morning paper has to say.”

* * *

Cooper was right about the diner—it’s the main pulse point of this town. When we step inside, the place is packed this morning, and the noise level is so high it’s hard to hear anything. There are morning papers strewn across the counter and the tables, and groups of diners are all talking over each other, some of them arguing.

Cooper leads the way, me behind him, and Jake last. We take our place at the back of the line of folks waiting to be seated. Immediately, a hush falls over the place as everyone—even the servers—stops what they’re doing to turn and stare at us. Shit.

The hostess from yesterday—June—approaches us with a stack of menus cradled in her arms. “It might be best if you find somewhere else to eat today,” she says to Cooper in a hushed voice. She glances back nervously at the seated diners who are blatantly watching us. “Everyone’s talking about the article in the paper, and there’s a lot of speculation going on, none of it good.”

“I figured as much,” he says. “Thanks for the warnin’, but we’ll stay.”

Cooper’s southern drawl has resurfaced again. I’ve noticed it comes and goes, depending on the situation. Right now, it’s back in full force.

June shakes her head in dismay, letting us know what she thinks about the decision. “You’ll have to wait for a table.”

“That’s fine,” he says.

While we’re waiting to be seated, I surreptitiously scan the dining room, noticing how many people are on their phones, keying in text messages as they pretend not to look at us. More than a few phones are pointed in our direction, and I’m sure they’re taking pictures. We’ll probably end up plastered all over social media.

June finally returns about fifteen minutes later when we’re first in line. “I’ve got a table open, over there. If you want a booth, you’ll have to wait.”

“The table’s fine,” Cooper says.

We follow her across the dining room to our designated table at the far side of the room. On the way, Jake snags a discarded copy of the morning’s paper and begins reading, a scowl on his face.

June lays three menus on the table. “Your server will be out in a minute.”

As she heads back to the hostess’s station, Cooper and Jake stake out their seats, each with a strategic view of the restaurant, the door, and the street. They both sit with their backs to the wall, facing the diners and the front door. I’m left taking either of the two remaining chairs, neither of which offers me a very good vantage point. Apparently, I’m ceding to the old guys today. I choose the chair across from Cooper, the one that faces the kitchen. It might come in handy if the cook tries to throw waffles at us.

A middle-aged brunette hurries to our table carrying three glasses of ice water, which she sets down rather hard, sloshing water over the rims. “Sorry.” She tosses three straws onto the table. “Do ya’ll know what you want?”

We each order the breakfast special and coffee, and she practically races back to the kitchen.

Cooper seems perfectly relaxed, and Jake’s still reading the front page of the newspaper. I can just make out the giant headline sprawled across the top of the page. 40 YEAR OLD MURDER FINALLY SOLVED?

Damn. She really did it. The editor printed Cooper’s story. I never doubted his story for a second, but I’m kind of surprised the editor wasn’t a little more skeptical. Cooper made some very damning accusations about prominent men in this town. That’s not going to go over easy. They’re not just going to roll over and confess to the authorities.

After he finishes reading the article, Jake hands the paper to Cooper. “It’s all there, verbatim.”

Cooper skims the article, then hands it to me.

Sure enough, she printed Cooper’s story practically word-for-word, just as he told it to her. Thank goodness for digital recorders. The few parts she added, mostly related to the impact of his story on this town, were well thought-out. She clearly took him seriously, which I think was rather gutsy on her part.

Our server brings a pot of coffee to our table and pours three cups. “There’s cream and sugar on the table, fellas.”

“Thanks,” Cooper says, as the woman scurries away.

The once-hushed diners have all gone back to their conversations, and every once in a while, I catch Cooper’s name, or the names of the three men he’s accused of murder.

I can feel their eyes on the back of my head, burning into me. There’s a lot of skepticism in this room. Hell, there’s a lot of thinly veiled hostility in this room—I can see it on their faces. They’re probably wondering who the hell this Daniel Cooper is, to be coming into their community and stirring up shit. All it would take is a spark to set them off.

As I glance around the room, I notice several of the men speaking furtively into their phones. I’m afraid it’s only a matter of time now before things get truly uncomfortable.

A woman Cooper’s age—mid-fifties—walks up to our table, looking right at him. “Danny Cooper, is that you?” She sounds incredulous.

“Yeah, it’s me.” He studies her for a moment, his brow furrowing. “You’re Dana, right?”

She nods. “Dana Martinez. I went to school with Cody—we were friends.” Nervously, she twists her hands. “We always sat beside each other in homeroom. Is the story in the paper true? Did those men kill Cody?”

Cooper nods. “Yes, ma’am. They did.”

“What’s going to happen to them now?”

Cooper shrugs. “I guess that’s up to the authorities. I’m curious to find that out myself.”

She frowns. “But Billy Monroe is the sheriff here. And Judd’s a judge. How can there possibly be a fair investigation?”

Our food arrives then, and the woman leaves us alone to eat. Cooper and Jake are both hyper-vigilant, as if they’re expecting trouble.

I can tell the instant Cooper goes on high alert. His gaze snaps to attention at a spot somewhere behind me, toward the entrance.

A moment later, the door to the diner crashes open, and the folks standing near the door scatter. I turn to look and there’s a man scanning the dining room. When he spots Cooper, he comes barreling right for us. His face is flushed a deep red—unnaturally so—and his eyes, which are locked on Cooper, are overly bright and hard as diamonds.

Cooper stands, his hands on his hips, looking implacable, and the locomotive comes to a screeching halt.

“You!” the red-faced man yells, jabbing his finger in Cooper’s direction. “How dare you fucking come into our town and spew your filthy lies?”

Jake rises to his imposing height, making as if to move toward Cooper, but Cooper raises a hand and holds him off.

This guy is trashed. Damn, it’s not even nine o’clock in the morning, and he’s hammered. I can smell the liquor rolling off him. Well, that answers that question. I was wondering if this was the sheriff, the judge, or the alcoholic football coach. I’m going with the alcoholic.

The coach—Stevens, I think is his name—spins around in a wobbly circle to address everyone in the diner. “Lies! God-damned filthy lies!” he rages. Then he turns back, getting right up in Cooper’s face. “No one’s going to listen to your filthy lies, you damned pervert! Get the hell out of this town and go back to whatever rock you were living under!”

Cooper stares at Stevens, not moving a muscle. Jake looks like he’s more than ready to take this drunken fool out—he’s just waiting for a signal from Cooper. But Cooper stands his ground, glaring at Stevens.

“Are you proud of yourself, Roger?” Cooper says. “For beating a harmless teenage boy senseless and throwing him in the Sweetwater River to drown?”

Stevens’s flushed face screws up and his mouth opens, but all he can do is sputter. A sudden hush falls over the room as the occupants wait to hear what he has to say. Even the kitchen staff has stopped what they’re doing to crowd around the counter for a front-row view.

Stevens glances briefly at Jake, then he turns his hard gaze on me and smiles with deliberate calculation. I can see the wheels turning in his head as he contemplates his next move. Shit, Cooper was right. I’m Cooper’s weakness. Stevens is afraid of the man Cooper is today, so he’s turning his sights on me.

“And I suppose this is your newest boy toy?” Stevens points his fat finger at me. His voice is thick, and his words are slurred. He turns to glare at Cooper, swaying on his feet. “You get off on perverting young men, don’t you, you filthy animal!”

The coach is average height, with a beer belly that won’t quit, and he’s wearing a track suit that’s a size too small. He looks like he’s just coming off a bender, with his dirty blond hair hanging in his face, and his blue eyes bloodshot and slightly unfocused.

Stevens turns back to me. “And you! You’re disgusting, letting him defile your body. Someone needs to set you straight, boy.”

The instant Stevens takes a step in my direction, Cooper and Jake both act. Jake moves in front of me just as Cooper intercepts Stevens, blocking his path to me. “If you touch one hair on his head, I’ll kill you.”

Stevens hesitates, clearly recognizing that Cooper’s serious. I hear sirens in the distance, and I’m relieved the local authorities are on their way. Cooper doesn’t make threats lightly, and the last thing I want is for him to end up in a local jail cell for having committed murder.

“Oh, dear God,” says one of the diners, a middle-aged man who jumps to his feet as he reads something on his phone. “Judge Franklin was found dead in his office this morning. He… shot himself.”

For a second, everyone goes silent as the news sinks in. But the quiet is shattered by the screech of sirens right outside the diner. The room erupts into chaos, voices raised in unison, when two deputies storm into the restaurant looking like they’re ready to crack some skulls.

“Quiet down!” one of them yells as the other one lays his hand on the handle of his holstered firearm.

Everyone in the diner grows quiet, watching in anticipation. I get a bad feeling when the two deputies approach our table, their gazes jumping between Cooper and Stevens. Now both deputies have their hands on their firearms.

“Coach, you need to leave,” says one of the deputies, taking me completely by surprise. I’d expected them to target Cooper as he’s an outsider. But no, their attention is focused on Stevens. “Otherwise, we’ll have to take you in.”

The deputies, both of whom look to be in their thirties, are close enough now that I can read their name tags. One of them is Williams, the other Turner. Williams is the one doing the talking.

“Take me in for what?” Stevens says.

“Disorderly conduct.”

“Me?” Stevens points at Cooper. “Arrest him for indecency! He’s a fucking homo-sexual!” With a wave of his shaky hand, he indicates the three of us. “They’re all a bunch of degenerates! Arrest them!”

Stevens lunges for me, trying to by-pass Cooper. Cooper snags him in a choke-hold, forcibly restraining him, and cutting off his airflow in the process.

“Let him go, sir,” Deputy Williams says to Cooper. “We’ll handle this.”

Cooper releases Stevens and hands him over to Deputy Williams, who slaps handcuffs on the coach’s wrists.

As the two deputies march Stevens out of the restaurant, Jenny Murphy comes in the diner and heads right for our table. She drops down into the spare chair, breathless. She brushes her blonde hair back as she looks us over. “Are you guys okay?”

“We’re fine,” I say, when neither Cooper nor Jake responds. At least I hope that’s true. Cooper still looks fit to be tied. If those deputies hadn’t hauled Stevens off to jail, Cooper would have exacted his own form of justice, which would probably have landed him in jail.

Jenny looks at Cooper, her expression tight. “Judd Franklin committed suicide this morning, not long after the paper came out. He reportedly left a suicide note confessing to his part in the killing of Cody Martin.” She leans closer to us, lowering her voice. “Rumor has it, he said he’d been haunted all of his life over what happened to you and Cody, and that he couldn’t live with the guilt any longer. He said that, as a judge, he was sworn to uphold justice. He said he was a hypocrite, and he couldn’t bear it any longer. Now I haven’t seen it for myself, but it sounds like his suicide note corroborates everything you said in your story. He confessed, Danny.”

Cooper sits motionless. “Even back then, Judd wasn’t the instigator. He followed Billy around like a puppy and did whatever Billy said. Billy and Roger were the true bullies.”

“Roger won’t be in jail for long,” Jenny says. “They’ll keep him there until he sobers up, and then they’ll let him go. It’s the same thing every time he goes off the deep end.”

Our server brings Jenny a glass of ice water. “Can I get you somethin’, Miss Jenny?”

Jenny reaches for the glass and drains half of it in one go. “No. Nothing for me, thanks.” She sets the glass down and faces Cooper. “Roger Stevens was placed on administrative leave this morning at the high school, pending an investigation. So was Billy Monroe. Danny, it’s not safe for you to be here. I’m afraid both Roger and Billy will be gunning for you. And in Billy’s case, I mean that literally. The man’s armed to the teeth.”

Cooper’s gaze shifts to Jake, and then to me. “We’ll leave when we’re good and ready,” he says. “I appreciate the warning, Jenny, but I know firsthand what these two are capable of. We’ll leave when I know justice will be done, and not a minute sooner.”