Her Private Avenger. Elle KennedyЧитать онлайн книгу.

      Chapter 5

      Sheriff Jake Wilkinson looked like a man ready for a fight as he stepped out of the cruiser and approached the SUV. Morgan unbuckled her seat belt, studying the man through the windshield, and, as usual, marveling at the fact that he looked exactly the same as he did in high school. Six feet tall, with a stocky chest and the arms of a bouncer, Jake had been the star linebacker on the high school football team, and his don’t-mess-with-me attitude had followed him to adulthood. Back then, he was always itching for a good fight, often throwing the first punch. According to some acquaintances in town, that hadn’t changed much, only now he had a badge to go along with his fists.

      Morgan was not a fan of Jake Wilkinson. Hadn’t liked him back then, didn’t like him now.

      “The sheriff, I presume?” Quinn murmured.

      “Yep,” she murmured back. “My father must have called him the second you two got off the phone. You’re right, he knew exactly where we would go.”

      Quinn paused for a moment. “Sheriff dated her, right?”

      “Yep.”

      Quinn’s eyes narrowed at the man approaching their vehicle. “Isn’t the person closest to the victim usually the likeliest suspect?”

      “Yep.” Morgan sighed. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

      She and Quinn got out of the car. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Quinn had squared his shoulders, a sure sign he was geared up for a possible altercation. And if it came to one, she suspected Quinn could take the sheriff easily.

      Jake’s wide mouth was creased in a frown as she stepped closer to him. His dark-eyed gaze rested on her briefly before shifting to examine Quinn. The way he studied the other man, there might as well have been a neon sign with the words testosterone overload flashing across Jake’s forehead.

      She stifled a sigh. “Hello, Jake.”

      “Morgan.” He gave a curt nod of greeting before turning to Quinn. “Adam Quinn, right?”

      Quinn offered a nod of his own, along with a cheerless smile. “What can we do for you, Sheriff, at, oh—” he made a show of looking down at his watch “—one thirty-eight in the morning?”

      Jake ran a hand through his jet-black hair before lowering it to the gun holstered at his hip. His fingers rested on the weapon ever so casually, yet the entire move screamed intimidation. “Your father informed me you were heading back to town,” he said. “So I decided to come here and see how you’re doing. You know, considering the last time you were here I was pulling your car out of the river.”

      Morgan bristled at his words. The night she went over the bridge, she’d told Jake about the other car. Like her father, he hadn’t believed her.

      “I’m fully recovered, thank you,” she returned stiffly.

      “Uh-huh.” The tone of his voice revealed precisely what he thought of the matter—suicidal chick in denial.

      “Let me guess,” she said. “You’ve made no headway in tracking down the car that was behind me that night.”

      Jake’s obsidian eyes flashed. “I investigated your claim and found nothing to indicate there had been another car on the bridge.”

      “Of course.” Each word dripped with sarcasm.

      The sheriff ignored her tone. “How long are you planning on staying?” His gaze shifted from her to Quinn, distrustful.

      “Does it matter?” Quinn asked with insincere friendliness. “This is where Morgan grew up.” He gestured to the massive house behind them. “Her family still owns this house. She’s allowed to be here as long as she wants, no?”

      “Sure, as long as she doesn’t decide to interfere with my investigation.”

      Anger skimmed up Morgan’s spine. “The investigation in to Layla’s death, you mean? The one that poses a serious conflict of interest for you, seeing as you dated Layla?”

      Jake’s fingers tightened over the butt of his gun. “Layla and I broke up before she disappeared and you know it, Morgan.”

      “That doesn’t mean you didn’t kill her,” she answered sweetly.

      She opened her mouth to say more, but Quinn’s hand suddenly dug into her waist. He palmed her hip hard, sending the clear message to cool it. Despite the warning in his touch, she welcomed it. The feel of his long, warm fingers sent a sizzling rush through the material of her sweater and burned her skin.

      Ignoring the intense reaction, she focused on the sheriff, whose hard gaze didn’t waver. “I’m a journalist, Jake,” she said, softening her tone. “And Layla was my best friend. I have every reason to want to find out what happened to her.”

      “Finding that out is the police’s job. My job,” he clarified.

      “Do you have any leads?” she asked.

      His jaw twitched. “No.”

      “Suspects?”

      “No, but—”

      She hurried on. “Then what’s the harm in another pair of eyes, another brain trying to solve this puzzle?”

      Irritation flashed in his eyes. “I’m warning you, Morgan, don’t stick your nose in my investigation.”

      She disregarded the threat and said, “I want access to the crime scene and Layla’s remains.”

      “No way,” Jake said flatly. He made a frustrated sound. “Your father told me you’d try to interfere. Well, I’m making it clear right here and now, if you mess around with my case, I’m charging you with obstruction.”

      Morgan swallowed back her anger. Antagonizing Jake wouldn’t help the situation, but she was unbelievably tempted to lash out. Instead, she drew in a calming breath. “I’m a good journalist. I could help—”

      “You’re mentally unstable,” Jake interrupted, his voice cold er than a glacier. “I read the newspapers, I know about the delusions, the reckless behavior.”

      The fury she’d swallowed down rushed up her throat and scorched her cheeks. “I am not—”

      The fingers at her hip dug in deeper. Quinn, who’d been silent up until now, cut her off quickly. “Fine, Sheriff, we hear you loud and clear.”

      Jake’s suspicious gaze shifted to the other man.

      “Neither Morgan nor I will interfere with the investigation,” Quinn went on. His tone was composed and friendly, but the hard set of his broad shoulders revealed he wasn’t pleased with this turn of events, either. “I brought Morgan here so she could recover from the accident away from the media in D.C. We plan on keeping a low profile anyway.”

      Some of the suspicion in the sheriff’s gaze dimmed. “Good,” he finally said, nodding. “Stay out of my way, and we won’t have any problems.” He lifted his hand from his holster. “You two have a good night.”

      Gritting her teeth, Morgan watched as Jake walked back to his cruiser, opened the door and slid inside. A moment later, the engine roared to life and then he was gone.

      After the cruiser disappeared through the gates, Morgan brushed Quinn’s hand off her waist and spun to face him. “I have every intention of investigating my best friend’s murder.”

      A