Bad Girl Reputation (Avalon Bay #2)(66)

It’s the most fun I’ve had with my clothes on in a long time, and all we do is everything we’ve ever done. Laughing with our friends and kicking up sand. Nothing on fire but the burning logs in the pit, and the only flashing lights coming from the flames and cell phone cameras. Lumberjack Jimmy has trotted out his ax-throwing target, and everyone’s placing bets as we take turns hurling sharp edges at the upright wooden board. At first glance the concept of mixing medieval weaponry and alcohol might appear like a recipe for a noisy ride to the emergency room, but so far, egos have taken the worst damage tonight.

“You should have a go,” I urge Evan. Seeing as he’s dead sober, no one’s got him beat for aim.

With his arm around my waist as we watch another matchup, Evan strokes his thumb under the hem of my shirt. The seductive touch gets me dizzier than anything from a bottle. “What’ll you give me if I win? And feel free to be as lewd as you’d like.”

“My respect and admiration,” I deadpan, to his utter dejection.

“Mmm-hmm, that’s just as good as a blowjob.”

When Jimmy asks who’s going next, Evan steps up to the lane to take an ax in hand. Someone grabs Cooper to get a load of this, and the mass of interested spectators swells. They give him a wide berth, though. Because Evan Hartley with an ax is about as close to death as anyone gets with air in their lungs.

Until the sharp, shrill wail of a siren spooks the crowd. The music cuts out abruptly. Firelight reveals a cop trudging through the sand. He barks orders into a bullhorn, sending those of questionable parole status scattering into the darkness.

“Party’s over,” he announces. “You have three minutes to clear the premises or be subject to arrest.”

For a split second, I hold out some faint hope it’s Harrison having a laugh. But then the cop’s face is revealed from the shadows.

Deputy Randall.

Of course.

Evan jerks his head at Cooper. Still gripping the ax, Evan struts up to Randall with his brother, shrugging off my weak attempt to stop him. I’m already feeling my pocket for my keys and wondering if Mac will understand when I have to miss a few days of work to skip town and drive Evan over the border.

As if sharing my prophetic vision, Mac comes up to take my arm as we follow our men to the confrontation.

“What’s the deal?” Cooper asks, doing his best to control the deep streak of Hartley contempt for law enforcement from seeping into his voice.

“Everyone’s got to go,” Randall informs the entire crowd.

“This is private property,” Evan shoots back with no such restraint. I know without a doubt that right now images of Randall cornering me in a bar and trying to feel me up are spinning in his mind as he holds the smooth wooden ax handle in his fist.

“Your property ends at the grass. This sand here is a public beach, boy.”

Evan cocks his head, licking his lips. The madman thrill he gets from tasting his own blood.

“What’s the problem?” Cooper takes a step forward to put a bit more of his body between Evan and Randall. “Don’t try to tell me you got a noise complaint. All our neighbors are right here.”

Without a flinch, Randall spits out a flat response. “You don’t have a permit for this bonfire. It’s against city code.”

“Bullshit.” Thin on patience, Evan raises his voice. “People have bonfires all the time. No one’s ever needed any damn permit.”

“This is harassment,” Cooper says.

Looking bored, Randall reaches into his shirt pocket. “My badge number’s on the card. Feel free to file a complaint.” He flicks it at Cooper, who lets it fall to the sand. “Call it a night, or take a ride with me to the station.”

Evan picks up the business card. “Don’t want to be litter bugs, do we, deputy?”

With that, the party’s over. Meandering toward the house, people begin to disperse. Evan and Cooper retreat, albeit reluctantly, to pack up the drinks. With a regretful shrug, Mac goes to break down the chairs and folding table. Meanwhile, I have no idea where I left my purse. I’m hunting for it, saying goodbye as friends pass me, when I nearly bump into Randall, who’s blending into the night in his dark sheriff’s uniform.

“That didn’t take long.” He sneers, arms crossed, that unearned sense of superiority bearing down on me.

“What?” I don’t really want a response, so I try to dodge him, but Randall steps into my path.

“Harrison didn’t stand a chance, eh? Barely got his foot in the door, and you’re already stepping out on him.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” He’s got me zero to fed up in no time flat. I don’t like what he’s insinuating, and I’m not about to entertain his garbage on my home turf. We’re not in public. Out here, all sorts of things can happen, and no one would say a word.

“Means you’re not fooling anyone, sweetheart. Least of all me.” Randall leans in, growling words coated in the sickly stench of gas station corn dogs and coffee. “You’re still a lying little slut. Out to ruin another man’s life.”

“I’m sorry.” Evan comes striding up beside me, the ax slung with one hand over his shoulder. “I didn’t quite catch that.” He tilts his ear to Randall. “You’ll need to speak up. Say that again?”