Page 27 of Heartbreaker (Buchanan-Renard 1)

  “Thank the Lord we’ve got a spare? Isn’t that what you said to Lonnie after he cut the first tire?”

  “Maybe,” Noah allowed. “I wanted to keep him busy so he’d leave you and Laurant alone.”

  “Is that right? I figured you wanted to see how far he’d go.”

  Noah shrugged while he tugged on his stiff collar. It was chafing his neck. “This thing feels like a noose,” he told Tommy.

  “Nick, were there any agents at the restaurant? And if there were, why didn’t one of them come forward to help?” Laurant asked.

  “It was under control,” Nick answered.

  “Wesson ordered me to let Tommy hear confession,” Noah told Nick.

  “Pete doesn’t want him to,” Nick responded. “It’s a bad idea.”

  “That’s what I told him.”

  From Noah’s tone of voice, Laurant knew he didn’t like Wesson any more than Nick did. She turned in her seat to ask him why.

  Nick pressed his thumb against the disc so Wesson couldn’t listen in.

  Noah noticed what he was doing. “You don’t have to do that. I want Wesson to hear me. For the record, I think he’s a glory seeker and power hungry. He doesn’t give a damn who he steps on to get to the top, including Morganstern.”

  Noah was on a roll and wasn’t going to stop until he’d spilled all of his pent-up frustration with the man running the operation. “He sure isn’t a team player,” he added. “But then neither am I. Still, I avoid publicity just as much as you do, but Wesson goes looking for it. Remember the Stark case?” he asked, and before Nick could answer, he added, “Of course you do. You have to kill someone . . . you don’t forget that. Not ever.”

  “What about the Stark case?” Nick asked, looking in the rearview mirror at Noah.

  “I’ll bet you were surprised when you opened your newspaper a couple of days later and read that human interest story about you saving that kid. Didn’t you think it was damn odd that the reporter wrote all that stuff about you, your family, and your best friend, Tom?”

  “You’re saying that Wesson leaked the story?” Nick asked. He was getting mad just thinking about the possibility.

  “Hell, yes, I’m saying it,” he replied. “You did notice Wesson’s name was splattered all over that article, didn’t you? If I could get that reporter alone in a room for a couple of minutes, I could prove it too.”

  “Why would Wesson do it?” Laurant asked. “What does he have to gain?”

  “He’s got a grudge. Plus, he wants to run the Apostles,” Noah said. “That’s always been his goal, and I think he figures the more publicity he can get for himself, the better his chances will be. I’m telling you, Nick, as soon as Morganstern retires or accepts a promotion, Wesson’s going to move in. When that day comes, you’d be smart to get out.”

  Nick pulled the car into the parking lot behind the abbey and stopped.

  “Let’s just concentrate on our jobs for now. Get some rest, Tommy. You look worn-out.”

  “See you tomorrow at the picnic,” Tommy said. He reached over the seat and squeezed Laurant’s shoulder. “You still doing okay?”

  “I’m fine. Good night, Tommy.”

  Noah climbed over the seat and got out on Tommy’s side. Leaning back in, he said, “Nighty-night, Icy.”

  CHAPTER 23

  The picnic was in full swing by the time Nick and Laurant arrived. He could hear the band playing as he took Laurant’s hand and walked across the dirt road toward the crowd gathered around the bandstand and the picnic tables. The hill beyond the flat area was littered with colorful blankets, and from the distance it looked like a patchwork quilt. Children were running wild, ducking in and out between couples dancing to the music of The Hilltops. The aroma of smoking barbecue hung heavily in the air.

  Tommy and Noah were busy turning hamburgers on the grill, but Tommy spotted them and waved hello. Laurant carried a blanket over her arm. She found a vacant spot under a gnarled tree and spread the blanket out there.

  Nick didn’t like the size of the crowd. It appeared that most of the town had turned out for the affair. It was twilight now, and someone plugged in the Christmas lights that had been strung from tree to tree around the wooden bandstand.

  “Isn’t the band great?” she asked.

  “Uh-huh,” he said as he continued to look over the crowd.

  “Herman and Harley Winston started the group,” she explained. “Herman’s the one playing the sax, and Harley’s on the drums. They’re the twins I told you about who are doing the remodeling on my store. They’re so sweet. You should meet them.”

  Nick looked at the bandstand and smiled. There were six members in the band, and all of them appeared to be in their seventies. The twins were identical and dressed alike in red checkered shirts and white pants.

  “They’re old men,” he remarked.

  “They’re young at heart,” she corrected. “And master craftsmen. In Holy Oaks, we don’t put the elderly out to pasture. The contribution they make to this town is very important. When you see my store and my loft, you’ll understand how talented these men are.”

  “Hey, I wasn’t criticizing,” he said. “I just noticed, that’s all.”

  The bandleader, a bald-headed gentleman with a toothy smile, sparkling eyes, and terribly stooped shoulders, thumped on the microphone to get everyone’s attention.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, as you all know, this here picnic is the abbot’s way of saying thank you to all of you folks out there who have worked so darn hard to get the church finished in time for the anniversary. The abbot expects you to have a fine time tonight,” he added. “Now as you know, me and the boys in the band only play the oldies, because those are the only songs we know how to play. We just love to take requests, so if you got a special gal you want to impress, come on up and write the name of the song on a piece of paper and stick it in that hat over there on that card table. We got plenty of pencils and paper. We’ll be drawing the requests out of that hat till we have to shut down. Now the first song is going out to Cindy Mitchell and her husband, Dan. This is Cindy’s first outing since she had that gallbladder taken out, and it’s real good to see her up and about. Come on, Dan, bring her on out to the dance floor. This song is one of my favorites,” he added as he stepped back and lifted his hands like a symphony conductor. Tapping his foot, he counted, “One, two, three. Hit it, boys.”

  Silence followed the command. The bandleader turned around to find out what was wrong, then chuckled. Speaking into the microphone, he sheepishly explained, “I guess I ought to tell the boys the name of the song we’re playing. It’s ‘Misty.’ Now let’s try it again.”

  Nick didn’t like the idea of Laurant being in such a large crowd. He knew the picnic was a good place for them to be seen together, and for him to observe the people around her, but he was still having trouble with it. The crowd could swallow her up, and he didn’t want her out of his sight, not for one second.

  Her friends made his job difficult. As soon as they spotted her, they wanted to pull her away from him. They were, of course, very curious about him. Several men came up to shake his hand and introduce themselves. They were open and friendly, and they tried to draw him into their group of friends around the beer kegs while Laurant was being tugged in the opposite direction. To keep her close, Nick anchored his arm around her waist and held tight. He wouldn’t let her budge.

  She didn’t put up with his behavior for long. Leaning up on tiptoes, she whispered into his ear, “You’re going to have to let me talk to my friends and neighbors.”

  “Don’t disappear on me,” he whispered back, and then, because he knew they were being watched, he kissed her softly on her lips. “Try to stay between Noah and me.”

  “I will,” she promised, and then she kissed him. “Now please smile, Nick. This is a party, not a funeral.”

  Someone called her name, and Nick reluctantly let go of her. She hadn’t taken five steps away from him before she was surrounded

by women. They were all talking at the same time, and he was pretty sure he was the topic, because they kept glancing at him. He put his hands in his pockets and kept his gaze locked on Laurant. She had the most incredible smile.

  One of the women screamed, and Nick took a quick step forward, but then he saw that Laurant was showing off the ring, and that was what had excited the young woman. He backed off and once again looked over the crowd. When he turned back to Laurant, she was slowly threading her way toward the bandstand. As Nick watched her mingle with the young and the old, he realized how vital she was to their community. She was also loved. The townspeople could obviously see what a gentle and caring woman she was. They responded to her the same way he did, by wanting to get closer to her. He could tell that she was genuinely interested in what they were saying. She made people feel good, and what a hell of a gift that was.

  Nick was smiling as he watched her, but the smile vanished when she was stopped yet again by two men about her age. From the way they were drooling, he knew neither one was put off by her reputation. He felt a surprising burst of jealousy. Then one of the men put his hand on her arm, and Nick wanted to punch him. He knew his response was totally inappropriate. It wasn’t like him to be so possessive.

  He couldn’t figure out what was the matter with him. A relationship with her was impossible. He knew that, and he accepted it.

  Why was he having so much trouble maintaining his distance? Because he was damn hot for her, he admitted. This wasn’t lust. He was old enough and had been around long enough to know the difference. Lust he could control with cold showers, but this feeling was totally different. It worried the hell out of him.

  “Are you Nick Buchanan?”

  Nick turned. “That’s me all right.”

  “My name’s Christopher Benson,” the man said as he stuck his hand out to shake Nick’s. “Laurant’s my fiancée’s best friend. Mine too,” he added with a grin. “I wanted to meet you and say hello.”

  Christopher was a likeable, easygoing man. He was built like a linebacker. He was as tall as Nick, but outweighed him by at least fifty pounds.

  After they exchanged small talk, Christopher admitted sheepishly, “Michelle sent me over to get as much information out of you as I could. She thinks that because I just finished law school, I should be able to grill anyone I want.”

  Nick laughed. “What exactly does she want to know?”

  “Oh, the usual stuff, like how much you make, where you’re going to live after you marry Laurant, and most important, are you always going to be there for her. You might be getting the idea that Michelle’s nosy, but she isn’t. She’s just looking out for Laurant.”

  They both turned to watch Laurant. There were men standing in line to take a turn dancing with her. She was circling the floor now with donut boy.

  He answered as many questions as he could and hedged on others.

  When Christopher was finally satisfied, he remarked, “Laurant’s an important part of this town. People depend on her. She and Michelle are like sisters,” he added. “They bring out the devil in each other, and, man, do they like to laugh.”

  Nick was wondering when he was going to get a chance to dance with Laurant. He sure as certain wasn’t going to get in line. Being a fiancé had a couple of perks, didn’t it? Even if he was all pretend.

  Christopher seemed to read his mind. “Why don’t you go get Laurant. The food’s going to disappear fast.”

  “Good idea,” Nick said.

  He shouldered his way through the crowd, tapped donut boy on the shoulder, and pulled Laurant into his arms. “I’m cutting in, kid.”

  Laurant softened the teenager’s disappointment. Leaning to the side, she asked him to save her a dance later, after dinner.

  “You’re only encouraging him,” Nick told her.

  “He’s a sweet boy,” she said.

  He didn’t want to talk about the kid. He pulled her closer and continued to dance.

  “Look like you love me, honey,” he instructed.

  She laughed. “I do love you, sweetheart.”

  “I like that thing you’re wearing.”

  “That thing is called a dress. A sundress to be exact, and thank you. I’m glad you like it.”

  “Tell me something. If all the men in this town are afraid of you, how come they’re lining up to dance with you?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe because they know I won’t say no. They don’t ask me to go out on dates though. I think Tommy might be right. I might scare them.”

  “That’s good,” he said with smug satisfaction.

  “Why?” she asked.

  He didn’t answer her question. “Let’s eat,” he said.

  “Viola and Bessie Jean are waving at us. I think they want us to sit with them.”

  “Son of a bitch,” Nick hissed.

  His reaction startled her. “I thought you liked them.”

  “Not them,” he answered impatiently. “I just spotted Lonnie. What the hell is he doing here?”

  “Do I get to say I told you so?” she asked. She found Lonnie in the crowd, sitting alone on a picnic table, an insolent expression on his face. No one else was sitting at the table, and Laurant noticed several people, obviously nervous around the bully, who were avoiding making eye contact with him.

  Nick was searching the crowd for the sheriff. “I don’t see dear old dad,” he said.

  “Oh, I doubt he’s here. He wouldn’t answer your phone calls all day, and the jail was locked up when we stopped by. I think he’s hiding from you, Mr. FBI Agent,” she said.

  Nick shook his head. “I’m going to have to do something about him.”

  “You’ll have to find him first.”

  “I’m not talking about the sheriff,” he replied. “I’m going to have to do something about Lonnie. He’s a complication we don’t need now.”

  “What can you do?”

  Nick draped his arm around Laurant’s shoulders and headed for the buffet that was set up behind the bandstand.

  “Noah.”

  “Noah’s what you’re going to do?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Okay. What can Noah do?”

  He grinned. “Lots.”

  “Go make Lonnie get off that table first,” she suggested. “Then we’ll eat. People need places to sit.”

  “Okay,” he agreed, but as he turned to the tables, he saw Tommy heading for Lonnie from the opposite direction. He had a spatula in his hand and a look on his face that indicated he wasn’t going to put up with any of Lonnie’s terror tactics today. Noah was busy scooping up burnt hamburgers, but he kept his eye on Tommy while he worked, which explained why two of the hamburgers ended up on the ground. Lonnie’s friends materialized out of nowhere and stood by the table as Tommy approached.

  “Shouldn’t you go help my brother?” she asked, the worry there in her tone of voice.

  “He can handle himself.”

  Lonnie had a cigarette dangling out of his mouth. Tommy said something to him, and Lonnie shook his head, then flicked the cigarette at him. Tommy stepped on it. Then as quick as a blink, he grabbed Lonnie by the scruff of his neck and jerked him off the table.

  Lonnie’s hand slipped into his pants pocket, and that’s when Noah came running. So did a good number of the men attending the picnic. They ran to Tommy to help. The show of solidarity infuriated Lonnie, and within seconds, his face had turned purple with rage. Noah shoved his way through the men just as Lonnie pulled the switchblade out. Noah whacked him hard on the wrist with his spatula and tripped him at the same time. Howling in pain, Lonnie dropped the knife. Tommy picked it up and tossed it to Noah, then hauled Lonnie to his feet and ordered him and his friends to leave.

  Laurant let out a sigh of relief. As Tommy and Noah headed back to the grill, several men stopped them to shake their hands. One enthusiastic man pounded them on their shoulders.

  “Now can we eat?” Nick grabbed two plates, handed one to her, and headed f

or the hamburgers.

  After they had filled their plates with salads and chips at the buffet table, they joined the Vandermans. The sisters were sitting with the three men who were temporarily living in the house across the street. Bessie Jean scooted closer to Viola so Laurant and Nick could sit on the bench with them.

  Viola made the introductions, adding information she’d gleaned from the weary-looking workmen. Two of the men, Mark Hanover and Willie Lakeman, owned farms in northern Iowa and were supplementing their incomes with carpenter jobs. Justin Brady had just purchased his uncle’s land in Nebraska and was diligently trying to pay off the mortgage as soon as possible by picking up extra work. All three men were in their early thirties and all three were wearing wedding rings. The calluses on their hands proved they were hard workers, and the empty cups lined up in front of them proved they were also hard drinkers. Nick leaned his elbows on the table and listened to the three men describing the work at the abbey, all the while sizing them up.

  Mark downed a sixteen-ounce plastic cup of beer in two long gulps. Nick understood why the man was drinking so much when Bessie Jean asked him if he had any children.

  Mark lowered his gaze to his cup in his hands. “My wife died last year. We didn’t have any kids. We were waiting until we got some of our bills paid off.”

  Viola reached across the table and patted Mark’s hand. “We’re all terribly sorry about your loss, but you’ve got to get on with your life and try to look to the future. I’m sure your wife would have wanted you to.”

  “I know, ma’am,” he replied. “With the drought, we all have to pick up work whenever we can. I’ve got my parents to look after, and Willie and Justin have families depending on them too.”

  Willie pulled out his wallet to show off his family, a redheaded wife and three carrot-topped little girls. Justin wasn’t going to be outdone. He carefully removed the photo of his wife and handed it to Bessie Jean.

  “Her name’s Kathy,” he said, pride radiating in his voice. “She’s due to have our first baby August first or thereabouts.”