“Hell, yes.”Paige leaned back in her chair.“That woman is terrifying.”
Jeb sighed.“All right.A coffee with nothing good in it.”
Apparently Jeb was afraid of his wife as well.“How long have you been married?”Christian asked, shocking the shit out of himself.He didn’t ask personal questions.Why was he asking about marriage?
“Almost forty years,” Jeb said as Daisy walked away.“My wife’s a sweetheart, she is.We raised five kids with me on the road a lot, and I’m lucky.”He lifted one shoulder beneath his uniform.“Except for the sugar part.I like sugar.”
“Stop being a baby.”Paige looked at Dutch.“About the body.Did you do the notification?”
Dutch rubbed his face.“Yeah.Talked to the wife.She wants to come up here since we won't be able to transport her husband's body to Anchorage for a couple of days.It’s taking time to arrange a helicopter.She plans to accompany him when the transport happens.So sad.Though it’s a good thing we installed that morgue cooler in the hospital basement a few years back.”
Amka’s laugh floated across the bar again—soft and warm and cutting right through Christian.Then she disappeared back into the kitchen.He stared at the mug in his hand, grip tightening slightly.The idea that somebody wanted to cut off that sound, to hurt her, spiraled a fire inside him he didn’t recognize.
The door opened and Jarod Teller walked in, wearing dark jeans, a button-down shirt, and a newish-looking black leather jacket.He strolled behind the counter and poured himself a beer, his gaze moving to the dark-haired gal reading through ledgers at the end of the counter.The insurance adjuster.Christian figured she was probably pretty, but not Amka pretty.
Man, he had to get a grip on himself.
Amka walked out of the kitchen with plates in her hand, caught sight of Jarod, and lost her smile.That quickly.
Christian narrowed his gaze.
Amka walked around the bar and delivered the dishes to a table of influencers over by the dartboard.Christian figured that’s what they were, considering they were all talking into their phones.Then talking into each other’s phones.He couldn’t quite get used to this new world.
Jarod opened the till and pulled out some bills.Just how often did he do that?
Christian didn’t spend a lot of time indoors, and he was about at his limit, but someone needed to cover Amka right now.He wished he could also cover Wyland, but the old guy could take care of himself.It was still possible that the attacker wanted to hurt Wyland and not Amka, but Christian’s instincts whispered otherwise.Of course, his instincts might not be on track when it came to that woman.
Jarod shut the till and paused, leaning down to lift up a pink manila folder.Pink?He flipped open the top and red filled his face, turning his ears crimson.His head jerked up.
Awareness pricked through Christian, and he placed his mug on the table.
Amka returned behind the bar and reached for a beer glass.
Jarod pivoted on her, looming over her.Her head snapped up, and fire lit her eyes.
Christian stiffened.
“What are these?”Jarod snapped, loud enough to reach across the room.
The influencers all paused, turning to watch.
Amka let out a sharp breath.Her hands framed her waist, shoulders squared.“That’s not your business.”She didn’t lower her voice, either.
Jarod’s jaw clenched.He grabbed her wrist, turning it with enough force that the beer glass in her other hand rattled against the counter.
She placed it gently on the bar and then punched him in the gut.Jarod doubled over with a muffled oof.Shock filled Amka’s eyes, and she looked down at her fist as if surprised it belonged to her.
Christian stood, muscles coiling.He made it across the bar in a heartbeat.“Let go of her wrist before I break yours and shove it down your fucking throat.”
Jarod released her and stepped away, his mouth open in a quiet snarl.“Mind your fucking business.”
“Problem?”Dutch stepped up behind Christian.
“No.”Jarod said, looking down at Amka.“We need to talk.”
Dutch cleared his throat.“I’m going to ask before the other troopers do.That was a battery.Mr.Teller?Would you like to press charges against this petite and rather well-loved bartender for punching you?”
Jarod ground his teeth together.“Of course not.Amka, let’s go talk.”
