Secret Maneuvers by Jessie Lane Page A

with women while Belle was having an animated conversation with the bartender. Now, with all four teams in position, the building would be adequately covered if shit hit the fan and they had to move on something.
    The comm. link buzzed in my ear as Arturo spoke in hushed tones. “Deputy Miles says one of the suspects has just walked past us into the back of the building. Be on the lookout for a white male, approximately five-foot-nine, a hundred and eighty pounds. Black hair, blue shirt and blue jeans.”
    Doing a visual sweep, I watched as the suspect came through the door that more than likely led to a back office. The bar’s owner, Travis Henderson, caught sight of the man, excused himself from his conversation with Belle and walked over to where the suspect waited at the end of the bar. It took less than five minutes until it appeared they were having what looked like a heated conversation before the target waved his hands around in frustration, and then stomped off through the door leading into the back.
    Henderson returned to his position behind the bar with a huge smile while handing beers, or whatever was ordered, out to the customers. As interesting as the scene was, it didn’t distract me from noticing that once again Sheriff Jenkins stole a thoughtful glance in my direction with a frown. He’d been doing that periodically since we’d arrived. Abruptly he stood, shoving his chair back roughly in the process, and stalked to where Belle was.
    Tapping her on the shoulder, the Sheriff made a big production of asking her for a dance on the floor. The grip on the beer in my hand tightened as I did my best to tamp down the urge to throw it. Jaxon leaned over the table towards me.
    “What do you think that’s all about?”
    I shrugged my shoulders, doing my best to act nonchalant about it all. “I don’t know. Let’s just watch to see what happens.”
    Belle and the Sheriff walked out to the middle of the dance floor before they started to sway to the music. Sheriff Jenkins held her closely with his hands placed intimately on her waist. It was a familiar kind of touch that told me he’d held her like that before. Perhaps with fewer clothes on and while in a bed instead of on a dance floor. I clenched my jaw, teeth grinding down in agitation. Belle put her hands on his chest as they danced. It became obvious pretty quickly that they were discussing something that Belle didn’t want to talk about. Her brow furrowed while her eyes lit in anger. The conversation seemed to escalate rapidly as Belle started poking her finger into the Sheriff’s chest to emphasize whatever point she was trying to get across.
    Just about the time that I was sorely tempted to step in and break them up, something unexpected happened. A body landed in my lap. Throwing a hand out to steady the thrashing arms I heard Jaxon bark a laugh. Looking down I saw the top of brunette hair so full of hair spray that it could almost double as a helmet in a war zone. Two small hands were thrown over my thighs, clasping desperately to them for some semblance of balance. Bare, tan legs exposed by a denim mini skirt were tangled in front of her with one glittering red high heel still on her left foot whereas the right foot was shoeless. I glanced around the floor until I saw the missing shoe lying on its side just a few feet over.
    Glancing back down, the woman’s head was tipped backwards until a pair of young, glassy brown eyes were looking at me. Her chest rose and fell with her stilted giggling, almost causing the straining buttons on her extremely tight shirt to pop open. She was adorable in an inebriated sort of way, but she also needed to get her head out of my lap before the off chance of Belle looking up here and seeing this shit happened. The side of my mouth hitched into a smile. “You okay?”
    Shaking her head, “No. Wait. I mean, yes. Yes. I’m fine. I think. Apparently, long island ice tea and four inch heels don’t go too well