Jonesy had a daughter that had been in town until the day before. Angie Jones was only eighteen, pretty from what Zeke had heard. Her name hadn’t been linked to the Walkers, but it was an angle he couldn’t overlook. Gene had a daughter as well, one in her early twenties, but she was married and living in Louisville.

“I’ll do that.” Gene nodded, rising to his feet. “And the missus told me to let you know you’re invited to dinner next weekend. Willa and her new husband will be in from Louisville for a visit and they were asking about you.”

Zeke shook his head. “I can’t make it next weekend, Gene. Shane’s supposed to be home and I try to spend some time with him when he’s in,” he said apologetically, though Zeke didn’t regret that he couldn’t.

“Yeah.” Gene sighed. “I figured. Anyway.” He nodded sharply. “I’ll see you tomorrow then. I best head home or the missus is likely to have my hide for dinner. Evenin’, Zeke.”

“See you tomorrow, Gene.” He nodded back as Gene left the office, then rubbed at the back of his neck while rising from his chair.

Picking up the coroner’s report, he moved to the file cabinet, filed it, then locked the tall, gray metal cabinet and glanced at the clock.

Tonight was Rogue’s early night at the restaurant. She would have taken care of paperwork rather than working as the hostess.

Hell. He’d fucked up last night, it was that simple. He was so desperate to get her out of the line of fire and just egotistical enough to think he could make her mad enough, or worse, hurt her enough, to send her running for home.

He should have known better. He had known better; that was the reason he had called her father, because he had known in his gut that wasn’t going to work. Rogue wouldn’t run, not from anything. She hadn’t run from Nadine Grace and Dayle Mackay when they’d threatened her with those pictures, and she hadn’t run from her assailant six months before. She wasn’t going to run now.

And she definitely wouldn’t run when he showed up at the bar tomorrow afternoon to question Jonesy. She’d stick right to the other man’s side and glare at Zeke the whole damned time. He’d get hard, horny, and once questioning was over he’d be trying to carry her to her bedroom. If she didn’t try to kill him first.

SIXTEEN

It was Ladies’ Night at the Bar. This was the reasonRogue made certain she was on-site from seven that evening until after closing. Ladies’ Night, spring and summer, was often the wildest night of the week. Saturdays could run a good close second, but the majority of her bouncers were on duty every Friday and Saturday evening. Wednesday was a bit lacking in that area, as most of her bouncers had second jobs through the week.

She kept meaning to hire more bouncers for Wednesdays, but so far she had been able to handle it with her skeleton crew. She had four bouncers on duty along with Jonesy, and the assistant bartender Kent.

The bar was filled close to capacity. The band was belting out country dance tunes and ballads, and the alcohol was flowing freely. A large majority of the regulars were there as well as a surprising number of tourists in town to enjoy the unseasonably warm weather and the many attractions to be had in Lake Cumberland.

As the day had progressed, Rogue’s frustration had only grown. Her father had called.

Ten minutes later her mother had called. After that, her grandparents and her sister.

John hadn’t called back, and that worried her more than anything.

Her father no longer suspected that Walkers were being killed; Zeke had confirmed his fears and now Calvin Walker was determined to get his daughter home.

Damn them all. She had been manipulated from the moment she stepped foot into this damned town. By one person or another she had been jerked around until she felt like a fucking rubber band.

She stared around the bar, realizing what it had come to represent, the escape from reality that it had been for all these years. She had raced here after her life had fallen apart, and she had molded herself into a woman that others feared. Men and women alike. She had surrounded herself with men who were ready to fight at a moment’s notice, and they had taught her how to fight.

How to use her fists. How to use her knees. How to be the rogue that didn’t care what others thought or what they expected from her.

The problem was, she did care. She had always cared. And she was only now realizing it.

“Rogue, dance with me, baby.” An arm snaked around her waist, pulling her against a strong male body. Dressed in camouflage and smelling like week-old sweat.

Rogue wrinkled her nose and pushed away with a forced laugh. “Get a shower, Bubba,”

she called back to him. “Soon.”

It was typical. A few feet away a hand reached out to her, laughter, most of it drunken or forced, echoed around her as the customer requested a dance. A smile and polite refusal, and a stronger dislike for where she was.

She was here when she wanted to be back at the restaurant. Where she could make certain Janey or Alex or, God forbid, Natches wasn’t messing with her accounting file or the reservation layout. Where she could dress in something other than denim or leather.

Where Rogue was more than the bar whore she had always allowed everyone to believe.

Damn her pride. It ran wide and deep inside her, that was for damned sure. Four years she had spent here, rubbing it in Nadine Grace’s and Dayle Mackay’s faces that they couldn’t run her out of town. Rubbing it in Zeke’s face that he couldn’t ignore her.

For what? A few one-night stands? A few hours that in the end had left her feeling stark and hollow inside. And hurt. Damn, she hated feeling hurt. It was her weakness. Make her angry and she’d explode and just get it out of her system. Hurt her and it was like her brain short-circuited. She didn’t care for people as a rule, didn’t give them the chance to hurt her because she couldn’t handle that kind of pain. Emotional pain.

Rejection. Fuck, she hated rejection.

“Rogue, get your ass behind this bar for me,” Jonesy called out as he lifted his bat from under the counter. “Jason’s got trouble near the door.”

Rogue jumped and jerked the bat out of his grip before he could stop her.

“You man the bar,” she yelled back, adrenaline jangling through her nervous system.

“I’ll take care of the trouble.”

She turned and moved away, slapped the bat in one hand, and grinned. She hadn’t had a good rousing fight all year long. That was all she needed to get over this. She could just get mad, get it out of her system, and then get on with her business. She could clear the emotional bullshit out of her head, then get on with getting over Zeke.

“Dammit, Rogue!” She heard Jonesy cursing behind her and flashed him a smile over her shoulder before flipping her hair back and heading for the confrontation evolving close to the bar’s entrance.

She didn’t intend to use the bat. She had never used the bat. She’d used her knee only when she had to, but the times she’d been forced into it had been noted and most men tread warily around her now.

Moving quickly through the crowd, she pushed her way into the circle of customers that surrounded the two men. Billy Joe Wingate and Luke Taylor. Two rawboned country boys with a little too much drink and a whole lot of anger.

“Don’t tell me what to do, fucker!” Billy Joe spat back at the bouncer behind him and sidestepped his grip. “I ain’t goin’ no damned where. Not till this son of a bitch apologizes.” Billy Joe slammed his palms into Luke’s wide chest, sending the other man back several spaces and bouncing against a female customer who slammed into the man behind her.

Oh fight.

“Whoa there. Whoa there.” Rogue jumped between Luke and the woman’s escort, her hands gripping each end of the bat and pressing it hard into the man’s chest. “Hold back. We have it. Jason, get these boys out of here.”

She glanced over her shoulder to see Jason and another bouncer struggling with Billy Joe and Luke.

“Take it outside, dammit,” she yelled over the din as the bouncers dragged the two men to the door. She turned around quickly to the man she was holding back. “Keep your ass in here,” she yelled, pressing against his chest with the bat for emphasis. “Don’t make me have to take your head off, too.”

She pushed away and swung around toward the door where Jason and the other bouncer were struggling with the two young men. Both combatants were a little too drunk and a little too full of adrenaline and anger.

“I said I ain’t leaving here,” Billy Joe yelled out, his hazel eyes wild with anger as he glared at Luke. “Not till you make him apologize.”

“I ain’t apologizing, you stupid little fucker,” Luke screamed back at him. “You want to go dumb over a little bar whore, then you better get used to the truth.”

“She ain’t no whore.”

Rogue was rushing to the door when Billy Joe managed to tear loose from Jason and throw a wild punch at Luke. Rogue chose that moment to push between them and went flying when that fist crashed into her cheekbone.

Stars exploded in front of her eyes as a vicious curse ripped from her throat. Turning, her foot kicked out and up, caught Billy Joe in the chest and knocked him back by maybe a foot. Dammit.

Her face felt shattered. She stumbled after the first instinctive reaction and nearly went to her knees as she shook her head and used the bat against the floor to catch herself.

Dammit. She said enough. She wasn’t here to get a ham-sized fist in her face.

“Get him out of here!” She turned, yelling at Jason as the pain reverberated through her head. Hell, her eyes were going to pop out of their sockets.

Fury surged inside her, hot and deep as she slammed the bat into Billy Joe’s chest, gripping both ends, trying to hold him back as he jerked out of Jason’s hold again. Her boots slid on the wood floor as a chorus of curses and accusations began to ring around her head.

“Billy Joe, enough!” she yelled.

Billy Joe gripped her shoulders, snarled down at her, then drew his fist back, and as far as she was concerned, enough was enough.

Her knee swung up and connected between his heavy thighs as his fist landed at the side of her head. His eyes went wide, a high-pitched whine filling the air as silence suddenly echoed around her, and Billy Joe Wingate went to his knees, his hands now clapped between his thighs.

Rogue’s head was ringing, she swore there were spots in front of her eyes, and she was thanking God that Billy Joe had pulled his punch at the last second.

“Get them the fuck out of my bar!” she yelled at Jason as he gripped the younger man beneath the arms and began dragging him out the door.

The other bouncer, Timmy, was pushing Luke out and Rogue followed with the bat.

Adrenaline and anger were pumping inside her. Her head hurt, her eyes hurt, and she was more furious with herself that she had allowed it to happen than she was at Billy Joe for throwing the first punch.

She stalked into the cool air of the night, glaring at the two men as the bouncers tossed them to the blacktop pavement. And of course they came up fighting, fists flying.

Hard hands gripped her shoulders and jerked her around, and she swore she saw Jonesy’s face blur for a precious second.

“Have you lost your damned mind?” he screamed in her face, his expression twisted in fury, his eyes burning with it as he shook her roughly. “Look what the hell they did to your damned face. Damn you. You’ve fucking lost your mind.”

He shook her until her head lobbed on her shoulders, back and forth, and she grew dizzy from the effort it took to retain consciousness. Just as she thought she was going to lose it, an enraged yell sounded behind her. She was jerked away from Jonesy, stumbled, and fell against another hard body.

Helping hands supported her as curses rained around her. Shaking her head, Rogue blinked desperately and fought to make out what was going on around her. When she finally managed to clear her gaze she saw Jonesy laid out on his stomach, Zeke straddling as he locked cuffs around his wrists.