Nothing but Trouble by Beverly Barton

Author:Beverly Barton
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Harlequin Treasury
Published: 1994-10-07T04:00:00+00:00

* * *

Tallie wiped her hands off on the orange grease rag, stuck it in her back pocket and leaned over the open hood of the ‘69 Pontiac Firebird she and Mike were restoring for a client.

During the four days since she’d run out of the hospital, leaving Peyton Rand and his political career behind her, she had thrown herself into her work. Spence and Pattie had stopped by three days ago and tried to persuade her to come home with them and stay until the authorities had found the man who’d shot Peyt. She had refused their offer.

Tallie wasn’t foolish enough to be fearless. She was afraid. She knew full well that out there somewhere was a man who hated her so much, he wanted to see her dead. She kept Solomon with her all the time, and her shotgun was no longer filled with birdshot. She’d spent the last few nights with Sheila, with Mike staying over, too, sleeping on the sofa. She’d taken Richie Nolan’s Whitey and her own Sheba along with her. Whitey and Sheila’s son, Danny, had taken an instant liking to each other, so Tallie knew that when she went home, she’d be leaving Whitey behind.

Tallie didn’t need help from the Rands. She had other friends.

An old rock tune played on the radio. A warm breeze wafted through the open garage door, picking up the strong scents of grease and gasoline that permeated the air inside the block structure.

“That looks like Sheriff Redman’s car.” Mike held a box-end wrench in his hand as he bent over the hood to tighten the bolts in the power-steering pump.

Tallie glanced out into the parking area where a late-model Chevrolet had stopped. Lowell Redman emerged from the vehicle, took off his hat and tossed it on the seat before closing the door.

“Afternoon, Tallie, Mike.” Lowell patted Solomon on the head as he passed the Great Dane standing guard in front of a huge oscillating fan just inside the garage.

“Any word on the man who shot Rand?” Mike asked.

“Well, we’ve questioned Lobo Smothers. He has an alibi. His girlfriend swears he was with her all night. But we haven’t found Cliff Nolan, yet. His friends tell us he’s out hunting for Loretta and the kids.”

“I hope he never finds them,” Tallie said. “Come on back, Lowell. Would you care for a cola?”

“No, thanks.” Lowell lifted his leg, bracing his foot on a discarded tire lying beside the Firebird. “We found the truck deserted on a back road about fifteen miles from your house.”

“And?” Tallie wanted this nightmare to end, for her life to return to normal, for her to be able to stop feeling guilty about Peyton Rand’s gunshot wounds.

“The truck was stolen. It belonged to some old pig farmer down in Mississippi.” Lowell placed his hands on his hips, one hand lightly resting atop his holster. “The gun was in the truck, just lying there on the seat. We’re running a check on it, but I figure it was stolen, too.

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