Holly groaned. “Yeah, it gets that way when my boss uses up the signal to watch Internet porn!”
A bald head popped up from behind the bar. “Don’t tell Anne. She gets real mad about that.”
Holly’s eyes rolled. “I won’t mention it if you’ll get back to work. We’re filling up in here, Lonnie. I need two Manhattans and that fellow over there was asking about a martimmy. I think he means martini, but he has a weird accent. And stay off the Internet. We have a paying customer.”
Lonnie immediately started pulling down bar glasses and bottles of liquor.
“It should work better now. How about a Scotch? Lonnie keeps a fifteen-year around for Stef Talbot, but he won’t miss a couple of fingers.”
Finally, civilization. And it didn’t hurt that it belonged to Talbot. “Make it three fingers and I’ll forget all about your boss’s porn problem.”
She winked and walked away. Sure enough, the speed picked up. Thank god. He’d read the dossiers Seth had put together, but he wanted to look these asswipes up himself. Sometimes there were things out there that didn’t fit into a twenty-year-old’s version of a file.
It didn’t take too long before he’d completely discounted Jim McDonald. McDonald ran a company that had gone under when Nell had proven that the small restaurant chain named Tasty and Healthy actually used lard as a regular ingredient. McDonald had been embarrassed on network television and had vowed revenge on the group that had taken him down, but Seth had neglected to look at the asshole’s personal page. His wife gave birth to a new baby the very day Nell’s place had been broken into. There were pictures of the former CEO holding the tiny girl.
So it came down to Mickey Camden and Warren Lyle.
Camden previously had run a small pharmaceutical firm. Nell had decided the lab animals needed their freedom. It should have been a simple open-and-shut case with Nell going to jail for breaking and entering, but while she was freeing the rabbits and monkeys, she also discovered that Camden was trafficking drugs for a cartel.
Camden was awaiting trial. Nell had paid a small fine.
He was going to beat her ass for that. She’d gone in alone. Anything could have happened to her.
Camden was one to watch. Lyle, too. Lyle’s firm specialized in storing nuclear waste. They handled everything from biomedical nuclear waste to large energy firms. Nell had managed to prove they were cutting corners and the EPA had taken his ass down. Lyle’s wife had left him.
Two people. Seth was damn good. He’d looked through Nell’s computer. Without Seth’s program, he would still be going through the hundreds of protests Nell had participated in or organized over the years. Now he only had to deal with two assholes. He needed to figure out where they were.
But he needed better Internet. He couldn’t hack anything with this piece of crap. And it slowed down again. He glanced up. Lonnie had disappeared behind the bar again.
An odd pinging sound zinged through the air. Bishop looked back and a man in a trucker hat was walking through the lounge area with a small handheld device that was pinging and lighting up as he waved it around.
Bishop packed up Nell’s computer and pulled out his cell. He’d gotten Seth’s number from an e-mail. He quickly texted the kid with the two names he was concerned about.
Lyle and Camden. Run their credit cards. I’ll be at your place in twenty.
He moved over to the bar. He could really use that drink. Holly set the Scotch in front of him. Maybe it would be thirty minutes. He could take his time. Nell was very likely getting her toes painted by some naked person. Bishop took a long sniff of the perfectly oaky liquor and gave a silent prayer of thanks that Stef Talbot had excellent taste in Scotch. He took a nice sip, the flavor familiar and comforting.
Like Nell. When he closed his eyes, he could still taste her on his tongue, still smell the spicy scent of her arousal, feel that soft skin pressing against his.
“Could I get a beer?” a deep voice asked. Bishop felt someone move into the seat beside him.
Lonnie grabbed a longneck from the cooler and quickly popped the top. “Fred. How’s it going?”
A man in a Western shirt with pearl snaps sat on the barstool beside him. Bishop quickly estimated his age, status, and likely field of employment. Gray hair peeked from beneath a cowboy hat that had seen a lot of wear, but the shirt was of excellent quality and the watch around his wrist was easily worth a couple grand. He was around sixty-five, had some money, and worked in the sun if the deep lines on his face were any indication. He likely owned a ranch.
“I’m getting by, Lonnie. That’s all I can ask right now.”
The barkeeper frowned, concern obvious on his face. “I heard a rumor that Noah might be getting married.”
“I don’t know about that, but I sincerely hope my son gets his head out of his ass before he does something he shouldn’t.” The rancher took a long drag off his beer. “I don’t think this would be happening if my Ellen was still alive.”
Lonnie patted the bar in front of him. “Yeah. I still miss her. How’s Brian doing?”
A long sigh came from the cowboy. “He’s comfortable. That’s all we can hope for now.”
“If there’s anything Anne and I can do to help, let us know. I’m going to go grab you some pretzels. I keep the kind you like in the back.”
Maybe Lonnie wasn’t such an ass. Bishop sipped his Scotch and wondered where he would be at this time next year. Colombia? Argentina? Would they move him to the Middle East? Fuck, he might not even be alive next year.
Who would be watching after Nell?
“You got any kids?”
Bishop nearly cringed. Damn. The last thing he wanted was to get into a discussion with a complete stranger. “Nope.”
The cowboy sighed. “Well, you’re still damn young, son. One day you will have kids and, let me tell you, you need to remember that they will drive you to drink.” He chuckled. “I will say that it was easier when my boys were little. All they wanted was a taste of whatever their momma was cooking and for their dads to play some ball with them.”
“Dads?” He couldn’t help it. He knew he shouldn’t ask, but it just came out.
“Fred Glen.” He held out a hand.
Bishop shook it. “Henry Flanders.”
“Well, Henry, I own a ranch. I was married and had a son. James. My wife was killed in a car accident when Jamie was just a toddler. My best friend had a kid, too. Noah. Brian’s wife left him and he came to live out on the G with us. That’s where we met our Ellen.”
Was he saying what Bishop thought he was saying? “You shared her?”
A brilliant smile crossed the man’s face, and he touched the gold band on his left ring finger. “We married her. She was Jamie’s and Noah’s momma. We had a good twenty years together. She died a while back. Brian’s not going to last long. He’s got a bad heart. I think it broke the day our Ellen died.”
What the hell was worth that kind of heartache? Nell. A vision of her looking up at him with perfect trust in her eyes assaulted him. He should keep quiet. The guy would stop talking eventually. None of this meant anything to Bishop. “Would you do it again?”
He nodded. “Oh, god, I would do it in a heartbeat. I wouldn’t change anything.”
“But she died. He’s going to die.” Nell could die. It was better to walk away, to not feel anything. His mother had died. It was what people did. They died. They left. They failed.
“I’ll die one day, too. But if I hadn’t loved Ellen, if I hadn’t shared a life with Brian and our kids, well, I wouldn’t have lived. This ache in my gut, it means I lived, son. I loved. I built something. I don’t regret a minute of it. Not even the end. Brian and I held her when she passed and then we had each other. No. My only problem is my boys. They have a woman coming between them. My youngest is going to make a very big mistake and I can’t stop him. He thinks he’s in love.”