Even so he spotted the shooter instantly. A male voice whispered, “Pop, pop, pop. Run, weasel, run.”
The man, several yards ahead of him, shifted from foot to foot as he continued to speak in a chanting tone. Johnny advanced with caution. Whoever he was, the guy looked fast, despite his stocky build.
As predicted, the shooter spun when the music inside ended and the shouts began to wane.
“Pop,” he cried. His gun flew up. “Got another weasel.” And laughing with glee, he squeezed the trigger.
…
Melia ran. Not through the same exit as Johnny, but into the kitchen and out the back door. By the time she arrived in the corridor, Johnny had the shooter up against the wall, his forearm pressed to the man’s throat and his own weapon shoved under his chin.
“Pop…” the man said in a voice that barely squeaked out. “Weasel didn’t die.”
“You’re playing with the wrong weasel, Cas.” Speaking gently, Melia raised forestalling hands when Johnny whipped his head around. “He’s not dangerous,” she promised. “Cas is Sheriff Travers’s son. His size makes him look older than he is. He’s only sixteen.”
Johnny turned back, but didn’t lessen the pressure on the young man’s throat. “Sixteen and already shooting up bars? Sheriff’s son or not, I don’t see a promising future ahead for you, kid.”
“He has psychological issues, Johnny. He probably followed me in here and watched to see what I was doing, who was with me. He’s done it before. I know it’s proprietorial and wrong, but I’m ninety-five percent sure his gun isn’t loaded with real bullets. Plus, he wouldn’t have been aiming at you or anyone.”
“The bullet hole I saw in the table where you and McCabe were sitting suggests a different scenario.”
Her hands remained out, but her fingers curled into her palms. “You saw a bullet in the table?”
“Saw and heard it hit.”
“I, uh…hmm. I’m not sure what to say. Cas, where did you get that gun you were using?”
“Pop,” Cas said again. His eyes were huge, the pupils dilated with terror.
“Johnny…”
Keeping his gaze on the boy’s stricken face, Johnny removed the barrel of his Glock, but Melia knew he was keeping a close eye on Cas’s gun hand. “Go ahead and talk,” he said in a calmer voice. “I won’t hurt you unless you give me a reason to.”
“Strong weasel,” Cas said, blinking for the first time in several seconds.
“Yes, he is.” Melia walked toward them. “Very strong. Tell him what you were doing.”
“I—uh—uh—uh— ”
“Okay,” she said. “Maybe I’ll tell him.”
“Someone tell me.” Johnny shoved his gun into the back of his waistband. “Before my patience, which is wearing extremely thin right now, runs out.”
“Cas thinks he’s helping his grandmother. His mother’s mother.” Alongside them by then, Melia whispered, “Let him go,” to Johnny. “She has a house in the swamp. She keeps twenty chickens and a goat. Weasels go after the chickens, and her dog’s too old to catch them.”
“So her grandson comes into town and deals with the weasel problem by shooting up a bar. Someone needs to fill this kid in on the difference between weasels and humans.”
“Weasels come in many forms,” Melia reminded him. “Some of them are, in fact, human. Cas doesn’t just watch me. He also likes action. He peeks through back doors a lot. It’s not right or smart, but to placate him, his father leaves a gun where he can find it. It’s always, always loaded with blanks. Usually the weasels he shoots are imaginary, but once about six months ago, he went into the barber shop and started firing. Blanks,” she repeated. “I don’t think the meds he’s on are properly balanced.”
Johnny cast her a grim look. “Neither’s his father, by the sound of things. Aren’t you Cas’s prescribing physician?”
“No. He’s being treated—well, sort of treated—by someone in Miami. I work with Cas in a different way, a non-drug related way.”
“Fucking hell.” Johnny dropped his arm. “This town’s made you crazy, Mel.”
“Maybe.” She watched Cas rub his throat. He was eyeing Johnny in a way that could only be described as antagonistic. “Don’t do it, Cas,” she cautioned when the young man’s fingers began to twitch. “I promise you, Johnny’s one of the baddest cops you’ll ever meet.”
Cas slitted his eyes. “Bad as my pa?”
“Way badder. Meaner. More ruthless and cold. Almost bloodless.”
“Why don’t you just compare me to Satan and be done with it?” Johnny suggested.
“Sorry.” She let out a long breath. “I’m not managing my anger very well.” Picking up Cas’s gun, she handed it to Johnny. “Go home,” she told the still-befuddled boy. “Gilligan’s Island is on in twenty minutes. Back-to-back episodes.”
Cas’s face brightened. “Ginger and Mary Ann?” He licked his lips. “Nice tits.”
Melia’s brows went up. “Excuse me?”
The boy dropped both his gaze and the hands he’d been rubbing together. “Pretty women,” he mumbled. Then he looked up and beamed at her. “Like you.”
She fought a smile. “Bye, Cas.”
“Bye.” He flapped a large hand. “Come for dinner soon. Dad likes it when you do. You make good biscuits.”
“She does?” Johnny stared at her. “You do?”
“Three years is a long time.” Strolling over, she carefully slipped Cas’s six-shooter from Johnny’s fingers. “I’ve acquired a number of new skills.”
“And friendships?”
“Maybe. Sheriff’s a nice guy,” she said and smiled wryly to herself. She really was an emotional wreck right then. But the last thing she wanted to do was let him know that. “Okay, well. It looks like your job here is done. We’re square. I didn’t cheat on you, and we all agree you and McCabe are bastards. When you leave, your old pal Satyr will realize we’re finished and get gone soon after. Unless he’s into beating dead horses.”
“I wouldn’t put it past him.”
She met his gaze. “Please leave, Johnny.”
“Bullet,” he said simply. Taking Cas’s gun back, he examined the chamber. Then he slapped it back into place and fired the rest of the blanks—two of them—at the floor. “We heard five shots, Mel. Four came from this weapon. One came from a Magnum, and it wasn’t a blank. It also came from a different doorway. I was paying attention.”
Melia’s heart knocked hard against her ribs. “How do you know…?” Letting her head fall back, she stared blindly at the dusty overhead rafters. “Shit.”
“Exactly.” He took her arm. “And believe me when I tell you we’re in it up to our eyeballs.”
Chapter Four
McCabe left. He had one last private chat with Johnny outside the men’s room, then he vanished into the twilight.
Melia was hardly surprised. He was as bad as Johnny in that way. They both had the annoying ability to come and go in a blink. Except that in this case, she wished McCabe had stayed and Johnny had disappeared.
She couldn’t be near him for any length of time. There were too many tangled emotions scrambling around in her head. Not to mention her heart.
She’d wanted to kiss him back in the bar, not punch him. Or maybe she’d wanted to do both. Maybe she should have done both. But kissing him would have taken her back to a time and place she wasn’t ready to remember. Even so, anger and resentment would only carry her so far. Eventually those feelings would fade, and she’d be vulnerable again.
She drove her Ford Explorer to the house she rented on the edge of town. The property bordered a sliver of waterfront that was Tortuga Lake on one side and a dense area of swampland in the back. It was a pretty white structure that had whispered Florida Keys to her the moment she’d laid eyes on it. The mostly white interior was dotted with large potted plants, rattan furniture, and plenty of colorful cushions and pictures. It was as homey as she could make anyplace these days.