The Angel and the Outlaw

Chapter 2

Hayley flattened her palms against the tiles, dipped her head and let the spray from the shower sluice down the back of her neck. She didn’t know how long she’d been in here. The water was already turning cool. But she was far from feeling clean.

There was a film of grit on the bottom of the tub. Puffs of dirty lather speckled with some kind of flower petals swirled around her ankles. The shampoo bottle she’d emptied bobbed against the drain. It was running slow again. She hoped it wouldn’t back up. She wasn’t any good at fixing things like that and she couldn’t afford to call in a plumber. She shouldn’t have used up all the shampoo, either. The brand she preferred didn’t go on sale very often, but it was the only kind that didn’t leave her hair too brittle to comb.

Oh, God. She dropped her forehead against her arm, feeling an irrational urge to laugh. She was worrying about a clogged drain and the price of shampoo. Well, it was easier than thinking about how she had gotten dirty.

The storm, the mud, the gun…. It all seemed like a bad dream now, as if it had happened to someone else.

She hadn’t held a firearm for years, hadn’t wanted to go near one, but the moment she’d felt the weight of her father’s old Winchester settle into her palms, the lessons had all come back to her.

Keep your eye on your target. Breathe slow and easy. Concentrate and squeeze.

She had never liked hunting. She hadn’t gone since she was thirteen and had thrown up at the sight of her father bringing down a six-point buck. Her squeamishness had disappointed him. Everything about her had been a disappointment to him from the minute she’d been born. It was a mercy neither Adam nor their father had been at Sproule’s to witness her failure…

Oh, God. What was she thinking? Her brother was dead. The stroke her father had suffered at the news of Adam’s death was killing him one day at a time. That’s why they hadn’t been there. That’s why she had.

But even if she had succeeded, if she had pulled the trigger, she would have failed. Her father would have been devastated if she had sunk to the very level of the murderer she wanted to punish. Both he and Adam had devoted their lives to upholding the law. There was no excuse for what she had attempted. She had been crazy to pick up the gun in the first place.

She twisted the knobs to shut off the water, rattled the shower curtain aside and stepped out of the tub. The storm of the night before was over. A bright-pink dawn was breaking beyond the bathroom window. She wove her way through the piles of laundry that littered the floor, chose a towel that didn’t look too bad and began to blot herself dry.

She wasn’t crazy.

It was the world that was insane.

Like their father, Adam Tavistock had been a decorated police officer. He’d been almost twelve years older than Hayley and a larger-than-life hero whom she’d worshipped. Throughout his career he’d epitomized courage, honesty and dedication to his duty. He’d always been the apple of Dad’s eye, a chip off the old block.

But the very system Adam had sworn to uphold had turned a blind eye to justice and let his murderer go free. Oliver Sproule, with his network of theft, fraud and illegal gambling, had a stranglehold on Latchford. His wealth kept him above the law. Everyone knew it. No one wanted to admit it.

Except one man.

Cooper Webb. She understood why she hadn’t recognized him immediately. They had never actually been introduced. Fifteen years ago, he’d been a senior at Latchford High when she had been in her freshman year. Yet it hadn’t been only the age difference that had separated them. Cooper had been in with the tough crowd, the boys who hung around under the bleachers and shared cigarettes while they bragged about their cars and their girls. Like many of his friends, he had dropped out before he could graduate. She hadn’t seen him since.

If Hayley’s mother had been alive then, she probably would have warned her about boys like Cooper. Boys with ice-blue eyes and coal-black hair and that rebel glint in their smiles.

Except for his eyes, Cooper had changed. His smile had distilled to a sardonic twist of his lips. His features had been honed to uncompromising maleness. He no longer had the naughty charm of a teenage bad boy; he had the allure of a dangerous man.

Allure? That was too tame a word. His long, hard body, the lines beside his mouth and the cleft in his chin, the unruly black hair that curled at the nape of his neck, even that awful tattoo…the whole package practically oozed testosterone.

Hayley had been at rock bottom last night, yet she hadn’t been so far gone that she’d been oblivious to his appeal. It had been a normal physical reaction. No female, no matter how stressed out, could have failed to notice Cooper Webb.

But his physical appearance alone wasn’t what had made such an impact on her. It was the contradictions in his manner that had struck her the most. He had looked hard, yet his touch had been tender; he’d spoken bluntly yet his actions had been tinged with…chivalry.

She shook her head. He was an ex-con who was a bartender at a place she had never worked up the nerve to enter. Who knew what else he did to earn his income? Although her gut feeling told her he wasn’t as bad as he seemed, she had to be realistic. There was a possibility he might still be involved in crime to some extent.

A knight in shining armor he wasn’t. More like a lone wolf in a Metallica T-shirt.

And she wasn’t exactly fair-damsel material.

Hayley wiped the fog from the mirror over the sink with her forearm and stared at her reflection. The mud was gone, but she was still a mess. Not sleeping or eating regularly tended to do that. Over the past seven months she had thrown all her energy into proving Oliver guilty and praying her father lived long enough to see it. Her life had become a blur of vigils at the courthouse and visits to the nursing home. It was no mystery why the verdict had made her go off the deep end.

Cooper had seemed to understand. He hadn’t condemned her. He had regarded her attempt on Oliver’s life as an inconvenience rather than a sin.

She didn’t know how she felt about that. Sure, it was nice not to be judged—Lord knew, she’d been judged all her life and found wanting—but what kind of person could be so casual about something so wrong?

Then again, what did she know about ex-cons? Even less than she knew about the boys who hung around under the bleachers and smoked.

It had still been dark when Cooper had brought her home. The two-story Victorian where she had grown up was at the opposite end of town from his bar, on a street of large houses canopied by hundred-year-old maple trees. It was a safe, well-established neighborhood, yet Cooper had waited at the curb until she’d retrieved her spare key from the planter on the veranda and unlocked the front door. Even after she’d closed it behind her, she had heard the sound of his pickup idling in front of the house. It wasn’t until she had turned on the foyer light that she’d heard him drive away.

Considering the tense way their conversation had ended, she had planned to call a taxi, but he’d driven her home anyway. It was the same kind of concern he’d shown earlier, only he had denied it was concern.

He’d called her brother a son of a bitch and yet he claimed he wanted to bring Adam’s murderer to justice.

Why?

She tossed aside the towel, picked up a comb and started on her hair.

He’d said he had no choice. It didn’t make sense. He’d implied he was being forced to take her side even as he’d insisted that could never happen. He’d told her to back off and trust him to get Oliver.

She had been too shaken to argue last night. He must have taken her silence for agreement.

She was going to have to set the record straight.

“Sorry, ma’am. We don’t open until noon. It’s only eleven.”

“Yes, I know. I’m looking for someone. He said he works here.”

At the sound of the woman’s voice, Cooper snapped up his head to look across the room. Through the forest of upended chair legs he saw Pete Wyzowski, the Long Shot’s manager/bouncer, standing at the front entrance. Whoever he was talking to was hidden behind his bulk and the half-open door. He had one foot wedged firmly behind it. Since the door was constructed of oak planks over steel and Pete had a build like a bulldozer, no one smaller than a line-backer could hope to force their way inside.

“Come back in an hour,” Pete said.

“Please, it’s extremely important. He’s a bartender here.”

“A bartender?”

“His name is Cooper Webb.”

Pete placed one hand on the door frame to bar the narrow gap he’d allowed and twisted to look at Cooper. “A bartender?” he repeated. He lifted his eyebrows.

Cooper tossed his pen on the stack of credit-card receipts he’d been going through and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had hoped to have this paperwork done an hour ago. He hated paperwork. He stunk at math. If his schedule hadn’t been so tight, he might have welcomed the interruption.

“If he isn’t here yet, just tell me when you expect him.”

Pete returned his attention to the woman outside. “That’s hard to say, ma’am. Cooper’s got a killer commute.”

“Then I’ll wait.”

“Let me give him your phone number and—”

“It’s all right, Pete,” Cooper said. He might as well get this over with, he thought, as he moved from behind the bar. “I’ll take it from here.”

Pete stayed where he was until Cooper reached him. “Sure, boss.” He let go of the door and gave Cooper a friendly punch in the arm. “But if you don’t want her phone number, give it to me.”

Cooper had seen the punch coming so he managed not to get knocked sideways. He waited until Pete moved off to begin righting the chairs and setting them on the floor before he looked outside.

He had an instant of confusion. He’d been expecting Hayley to return since he’d driven her home. He’d been certain he’d recognized her voice—Hayley Tavistock had a throaty way of talking that any man would remember—but the woman who stood in front of him didn’t look anything like the one he’d left six hours ago.

She was still as blond as she’d been in high school. With all the mud, he hadn’t been able to tell before. Rich curls like the kind he’d expect to see on pictures of angels framed her face and tumbled over her shoulders. She was wearing a tailored jacket the color of cream. The matching skirt ended well above her knees, treating him to a good view of her long legs. She looked classy and sexy at the same time.

“Hello, Mr. Webb.” She shifted the purse she carried to her left hand and extended her right. “If you’re not too busy, I’d like to speak with you for a few minutes.”

He glanced at her hand. The mud was gone from that, too. Her skin was pale, her nails clean and buffed to a shine. He remembered how good it had felt when she’d gripped his leg. He wondered how much better it would have felt without the barrier of denim. He enclosed her hand in his.

As soon as he touched her, his confusion dissolved. She might have cleaned up, but she hadn’t been able to scrub away the tremor in her fingers.

He moved his gaze to her face. Back in high school she’d been cheerleader-cute. Not his type, yet he couldn’t deny he’d noticed. Problem was, she’d been an underage girl from a family of cops so he’d steered clear. Now she was all woman. She had the kind of bone-deep beauty that even mud and matted hair hadn’t disguised. Her lips were full and shaped in a feminine bow. Her eyes were hazel and tipped up at the corners, as if she should be on the verge of a smile.

She didn’t appear to be a woman who had smiled much lately. The hollows in her cheeks weren’t from a trick of makeup. And no amount of makeup could hide the weariness that pinched the edges of her lips or the despair that shadowed her gaze.

Cooper studied her more closely. Her skirt was too loose on her. He realized she didn’t quite fill out the jacket, either. Along with the hollows in her cheeks it all pointed to a recent weight loss. He felt a sudden rush of sympathy. And he had a crazy urge to yank her closer and do what he hadn’t done last night. He wanted to kiss her until her lips lost their tension and her eyes filled with desire instead of despair.

And he had an even crazier urge to wrap her in a blanket again and carry her someplace safe.

He dropped her hand and hung on to the door. Since when was he anyone’s protector? She might stir his hormones, but she was an inconvenience, a distraction he couldn’t afford. “There’s not much point talking, Hayley. I already said everything I wanted to say.”

“All I ask is that you hear me out.”

“I’m busy.”

“Tending bar?”

“Not right now. We’re closed.”

“That man called you boss.”

“Yes, he did.”

“Are you?”

“Yeah. I own this place. I also work the bar. Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

She shook her head. Her hair rippled in the sunshine. “Why are you going after Oliver Sproule?”

“What difference does it make as long as I get him?”

That made her pause. She pulled her lower lip between her teeth.

Damn, he still wanted to kiss her. He swung the door open and motioned her inside. “You might as well come in before you draw a crowd.”

Was it his imagination, or did she hesitate a beat before she lifted her chin and stepped over the threshold? “Thank you, Mr. Webb.”

“Call me Cooper.” He closed the door and shot the bolt. “I’m expecting a delivery in ten minutes so that’s all the time I can give you.”

She acknowledged his words with a smile that was too stiff to call real.

There was a clatter of chairs as Pete continued to clear off the tables. Cooper stepped aside and gestured Hayley toward the door at the other end of the room. “We’ll talk in my office.”

She remained silent as they walked past the bar, her gaze darting everywhere. He had taken her out the rear door when they had left here earlier this morning, so she hadn’t seen anything except his office and the back hallway. Cooper looked around, trying to see the place as she would.

Four years ago the building had housed a custom welding shop that had been going out of business. Cooper had liked the location on the outskirts of town since there were few neighbors to complain about noise or traffic. The large, two-story main room had suited him, too. He’d kept the renovations simple, laying down a hardwood floor and installing a rectangular oak bar as an island in the center. He’d also lengthened the existing windows that had been set high under the eaves so he had a view of his surroundings.

Enlarging the windows hadn’t been all that practical, since the bar’s busiest hours were after dark, but Cooper liked to see outside. It was one of the legacies of the time he’d spent inside.

Each year he’d poured any profit he’d made into added improvements. Now he had pool tables, a big-screen TV and a top-of-the-line sound system. On Pete’s suggestion, last winter he’d added a raised stage in the corner beside the front door where local talent had the chance to show what they could do. He liked being able to give them a break.

Cooper was proud of what he’d done with the Long Shot. It wasn’t fancy, but it was solid and getting more popular every year. Best of all, it was his.

For now, anyway.

Hayley had asked him why he was going after Oliver Sproule. She was walking through the answer.

Damn Tony and his bargain. It had been four years since he’d made it. It had gone on so long, Cooper had begun to hope that Tony was going to let it slide, but he should have known better. Tony Monaco wasn’t the kind of man who forgave anything, especially a debt.

“This is very nice,” Hayley said. “It’s much bigger than it looks from the outside. I like all the wood.”

Her compliment sounded sincere. He tried to keep it in perspective. She wanted something from him, he reminded himself, so she’d say whatever she thought was necessary. “I guess you haven’t been here before,” he said.

“No. I’ve been living in Chicago for the past ten years. I only moved back to Latchford last fall. Since then I’ve been too busy to…socialize.”

He pushed open the door that led to the back hall, then stepped to one side so she could go ahead of him. Last fall? Right. That’s when her brother had been killed and her father had had his stroke.

But it was more than grief that had kept her out of the Long Shot. Hayley Tavistock didn’t strike him as the kind of woman who would normally come to a place like this anyway. She was probably too much of the good girl to let loose and enjoy herself.

She brushed close enough for him to catch her scent. There was soap and shampoo, but there was still a trace of earthiness. Maybe he was wrong about her not letting loose. Just because she was a Tavistock and dressed with class didn’t mean there wasn’t passion beneath the surface. He’d already seen some of it.

They reached his office in silence. Hayley stopped in front of his desk and looked out the window. The shade was up, so she had a good view of the orchard on the far side of the parking lot. The trees had come into bloom the week before. The blossoms were pretty well finished now. Last night’s rain had knocked down of most of them but there were a few still stubbornly clinging to the boughs.

Again, Cooper caught himself wondering what she thought. Before Sproule had set up business here, much of Latchford’s economy had depended on the surrounding farms. Only a few pockets were left, like this overgrown apple orchard. Although this window also overlooked the loading ramp at the back of the building, a practical feature which allowed Cooper to keep track of delivery trucks when they arrived, the trees were the main reason he’d chosen this room for his office.

The bargain he’d made with Tony was what allowed him to have this. It could also make him lose it all.

He closed the door behind him more forcefully than he’d intended.

Hayley gave a nervous start and turned to face him.

He felt like a jerk for making her jump. “I’m sorry about your troubles, Hayley,” he said.

“Everyone’s sorry. No one except you wants to do anything about it.”

He wanted to pull her into his arms. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans instead. “That’s right,” he said. “I mean to do something about it. I plan to see that Oliver pays for his crime. If you want that to happen, the best thing you could do is keep out of it. You shouldn’t have come here.”

She chewed her lip again, as if restraining herself from asking the same question as before. “While I do appreciate your help last night, I’m afraid you might have gotten the wrong impression about me.”

“Oh, yeah? What part?”

“I’m not always that…” She paused, as if searching for the right word.

“Passionate?” he supplied.

“Irrational.” She straightened the cuffs of her jacket. “As you mentioned, I was pushed to my limit. I snapped. I wasn’t myself.”

“Sure, you were. No one can fake feelings that strong.”

“Yes, well, I feel much better now.”

“Did you sleep?”

“Excuse me?”

“After I took you home. How much sleep did you get?”

She brushed at a wrinkle in her skirt. “That really isn’t relevant.”

She was right; he wasn’t her keeper. But that didn’t stop him from wanting to kiss the weariness from her expression. He locked his elbows to keep his hands in his pockets.

“I came here to assure you that you don’t need to fear I would hinder your plans if we worked together,” she said.

“Soap and clothes won’t change who a person is, Hayley.”

“That’s my point. You got the wrong impression.”

“Not about one thing. There’s no mistaking the fact that you’re a Tavistock,” he said bluntly.

Color flared in her cheeks. “I won’t apologize for my brother. He was a dedicated policeman.”

“Right. I know. Just like your father. You come from a long line of cops.”

“What does my father have to do with this? Adam’s the one you’re holding a grudge against.”

“I was locked in a cage for three years of my life and your brother was the one who put me there. Saying I hold a grudge doesn’t cover it.”

“What were you arrested for?”

“Hijacking a truckload of computer chips.”

She studied him for a moment. “Were you innocent?”

He kept his gaze steady on hers. She would probably feel more comfortable if he lied, but he wouldn’t deny what he used to do any more than she would apologize for her brother. They both were what they were, and there was no changing that. “I was guilty as sin, Hayley.”

“Then how can you resent Adam? He was only doing his job.”

“Yeah, I know. But do you have much luck telling yourself how you should feel?”

Her gaze wavered. The color in her cheeks deepened. “No, but sometimes to get what we want, we have to put our feelings aside. That’s why we should work together, no matter how much you dislike me because of my brother.”

“Dislike you?” He moved to where she stood, unable to restrain himself from touching her any longer. He pulled his hands from his pockets and tipped up her chin with his index finger. “Where did you get that idea?”

“You said you don’t want to work together.”

“I don’t. That doesn’t mean I’m blind.” He stroked his thumb along the edge of her jaw. This was another one of those times he didn’t have much luck telling himself how to feel. Sure, she was a distraction he couldn’t afford, but his body wasn’t listening. “You’re an attractive woman, Hayley. I could see that even when you were wearing half of Sproule’s garden.”

She didn’t pull away from his caress. He’d expected her to. Then again, she did want something from him. She might think accepting his touch was as necessary as making a compliment about his bar.

He fingered a curl that rested against her neck. The way it sprang back against his hand made him smile. Her hair was soft but stubborn, sort of like her. “You cleaned up real good, too.”

Beneath the classy jacket her breasts rose as she inhaled unsteadily. The pulse beneath her ear beat hard against his fingertips.

She wasn’t much good at hiding her feelings, Cooper decided. He could see her awareness, just as he could see her distress over it. She didn’t want to be attracted to him any more than he wanted to be attracted to her. He should let this go, but some demon inside him wanted to push. Last night she’d said she’d do anything, hadn’t she? He leaned closer. “How about it, Hayley?”