Sweeter Than Sin (6 page)

“I’m tired unto
death
of all this bullshit,” she said, glaring at him. Her eyes practically shot sparks as she looked back at Tina, her face pale save for two flags of color high on her cheeks.

Hank wrapped his arm around his wife’s shoulders and shot Rita a dark look. “Back off, Rita. The conspiracy theory shit kind of goes to hell when even the guilty ones are confessing that it’s true.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but Adam caught her arm and bent his head. “If you want to still have a job here, you’ll drop it.”

The fury that darkened her eyes seemed to lift and she stopped, shaking her head. “What—” A sigh escaped her and she looked around, nodded. “Hell.” Swiping a hand over her mouth, she glanced at Tina. “Sorry, Tina. All of this just cuts too close to home.” Rita reached behind her and tugged at the strings on her apron. “I need to take my break.”

As she lost herself in the crowd, Adam caught Buck’s eye and jerked his head at the bar. While the other bartender nodded, Adam headed out. As he passed by, Luther looked at him and lifted his glass. Adam blew out a breath and the older cop’s mouth curved in a smile as Adam continued after Rita.

Something was eating at her. If he wanted her in any condition to work, he needed to figure out what it was.

He found her outside with a cigarette, staring up at the sky.

“You want to talk?”

“No.” She stared straight ahead. “I came out here to be alone.”

“This ain’t easy on none of us, sugar. Hurts the whole damn town.” Uneasy tendrils curled through him, teasing his gut, making his hair stand on end. In the back of his head, he all but heard a voice going,
It’s not over. It’s not over. It’s not over …

Instead of saying anything, he waited. Rita wanted to talk. This was where they came when they wanted a word away from the club. If she’d wanted privacy, she would have gone to the roof, where he wouldn’t go. That was what she always did.

Moments ticked by; the breeze kicked up, bringing with it the scent of the river, alcohol and food from the grill. He could hear the noise from the restaurant and the muted sounds of cars as they occasionally passed by.

And a shaky sigh from Rita.

Without moving his head, he shifted his eyes to her.

She had her head pressed to the wall, the cigarette hanging forgotten from her fingers as she stared off into the night, tears streaming silently down her cheeks.

“Rita?”

She turned her head and stared at him.

Pure hell shone in her eyes.

“My father,” she said softly.

Tension slammed into Adam. He didn’t let it show, but it was hard to stand there, relaxed, noncommittal, when he knew exactly where this was leading.

“Harlan?” He hooked his thumbs in his pockets, kept his voice easy. “Is he okay?”

She laughed bitterly. “Okay?” She lifted the cigarette, studied the glowing tip and then took a deep, deep drag. She blew out a smoke ring, watching as it dissipated in the air, tears still glittering on her cheeks. She didn’t look back at him as she answered, “No, Adam. He’s
not
okay. He’s a sick, evil bastard. Always was, but I’m just now figuring all that out.”

Muscles locked, tight, he stood there, staring at her as she lapsed into silence, puffing on the cigarette and then using the wall to put it out. After a minute, she looked back at him.

“He had this thing. When I was a kid. Did it less often as I got older, as he got older. But he had his ‘boys,’ as he called it. He’d go and hang out with his boys once or twice a month. Pete Sutter disappeared and you’d think his entire world had shattered.”

Closing one hand into a fist, Adam fought the rage as it built inside him. Rita continued to watch him, like she wanted him to just …
know
.

And he had to hear, as much as it sickened him, as much as he wanted to cut his ears off, cut out his brain. He had to hear and she had to tell him. And when it was done, he was going to do everything he could to convince her to call the cops.

“It was a guy thing, he’d always tell me. Sometimes I think he hated that I wasn’t a boy, because he couldn’t bring me into his little
club,
” she said, her mouth twisting in an ugly snarl. “And I hated that I couldn’t do it. Dad never spent much time with me and I never could understand it. I loved to hunt, fish. But did he ever take me hunting? Fishing? No. I learned it on my own. Mom never did get it. One year, for Christmas, there was a bow and arrow and I was so excited—I thought they finally
got
it. Turns out the bow and arrow set was from her folks. They got me better than my own parents did. Dad … he was never there. He spent so much time with that fucking club.”

She dropped the butt of her cigarette into the garbage can Adam kept out there for employees and then just stood there, her hands slack, her eyes dead, her face empty. “He ignored me, you know. And focused his energy on them. He just loved helping those boys become men.” Slowly, she lifted her head and stared at Adam. “They called it the Cronus Club.”

*   *   *

“You look familiar.”

Lana cocked her head and gave the man in front of her a puzzled smile. “Yeah? I get that a lot.” She went to brush around him, heading to the bathroom, since he’d placed his very fine body between her and the side exit.

She needed to get out that exit door. Something fucked up was going on, but she couldn’t risk catching a lot of attention when she did it. So the bathroom for now, and then she’d disappear after she got away from this guy.

“You from around here?”

She pushed the door open and paused, looking back at him. The light fell on his face just right and she realized she knew him. She didn’t know how, but she knew him. He was younger than she was—probably in his late twenties or early thirties, so he would have been just a kid when she disappeared—but that didn’t mean much. Giving him another one of those vague, puzzled smiles, she shook her head. “No. From Chicago. Just passing through.” She kept her answer short and clipped, talking fast. Indiana might not be a southern state, but in a lot of the smaller towns, especially this far south, a lot of people tended to have a slower, lazy drawl. She’d have to make sure she didn’t let that creep back into her voice.

His eyes were dark and shrewd on her face and he continued to study her. The weight of his gaze lingered on her as she disappeared through the bathroom door. Just before the door swung shut behind her, she heard somebody shout and the name had her wincing inwardly. “Hey, Tate!”

Shit.

Tate.

Was that Tate Bell?

Knowing her luck? It was entirely possible.

The age would be about right. The kid she’d babysat had been around nine or ten, she thought. Locking herself in a stall, she sighed.

She had shit luck.

That much was certain.

Shit luck.

The door swung open and a couple of women entered, their voices a fast, excited buzz.

“—you hear what Rita was saying? I couldn’t hear for shit.”

“I don’t know. They were outside talking, then went into his office—”

Lana grimaced and moved over to the toilet so nobody came banging on the door, but it didn’t seem like they were in there to use the bathroom any more than she was.

“Jensen’s in there. She just showed up here with her brother and sister. Isn’t she the one handling most of these abuse cases?”

“Abuse?” The second woman snorted. “This is
more
than abuse. Those boys were raped, for years. You don’t think Rita’s daddy was involved, do you? I mean, Harlan Troyer is like … hell, he’s in his sixties. He’s on the volunteer committee at the Methodist church and everything.”

Blood started to pulse through Lana’s head, roaring in her ears.
Harlan. Harlan Troyer.

The articles she’d followed over the past few weeks started to flash through her mind and she recalled, in detail, everything she’d read.

Jensen. That would be Jensen Bell.

She was the cop in charge of the investigation. And, incidentally, Tate’s sister.

Son of a bitch.

She had to get out of there.

The nausea grew, and grew, the guilt and misery taking huge bites out of her as she listened.

One of the women, her voice soft but full of disgust, said, “As long as this has probably been going on, can you believe
nobody
spoke up?”

Just one more nail in her own personal coffin, Lana thought dully, staring at the wall in front of her.

*   *   *

“It’s best if you don’t come back.”

She stared at the blood that stained the clothes. She didn’t remember.
None
of it. “I can’t just leave. I have to make sure it stops.”

“That will be taken care of, but you can’t stay here any longer, and if you’re here everything just gets worse.”

Worse?
She didn’t see how that was possible.

“Does he think I should?”

Kind eyes watched her. “Who do you think is the one telling you to leave?” A neat stack of clothes was placed beside her. “There’s another set of clothes. Money. It will last awhile if you’re careful. You have to go. Now. But away from here. If you go back to town, you’ll be arrested.”

Her belly cramped.
Arrested.
Dazed, she shook her head. “I don’t understand. Where’s David? I want to talk to David.”

*   *   *

She shoved the memories back, strapped down the guilt and pasted a blank expression on her face.

Lana had hid behind that blank mask for years.

She couldn’t afford to let it slip now.

As she’d moved onto the sidewalk, she’d seen the unmarked cop car.

There was somebody sitting inside the car, too, so if Jensen Bell was in Adam’s office that meant she’d put in a call for the unmarked.

Who knew what was going on inside Adam’s office?

He was back behind the bar and hadn’t even glanced at Lana as she came out of the restroom, casually placed herself behind a group of three other women. Before she slipped out the back, she lingered a moment, saw the way his gaze kept straying to the back hall. Watching. Waiting.

With nerves dancing along her spine, Lana kept her pace unhurried and sauntered down Main Street like she hadn’t a care in the world.

Tate had still been in Shakers when she left. Nobody seemed to notice her at all. She planned on keeping it that way. If anybody stopped her, she planned on lying through her teeth and saying she was staying at the inn just off Main. If anybody asked why, she’d elaborate further and say she was a journalist from a Webzine and her editor wanted some pictures of the town and a write-up on Madison and the weird shit going on. Then she’d get all nosy and intrusive.

It wouldn’t endear her to people, but she’d already seen a van from a news channel in Louisville. Madison had turned into a treasure trove of secrets and no doubt the media would trip over themselves to find the
next
story.

If she had to stay hidden in plain sight while she figured out her next step, so be it.

CHAPTER FIVE

Jensen was still locked in Adam’s office with Rita. He’d known she’d show up—the Bells had a regular table here on Friday nights and had for years. It was just a matter of getting Rita to
talk
to Jensen. But Rita had been more ready than he’d expected.

The rest of the Bells and their assorted partners were grouped at their table, tense, quiet. Waiting. They waited for Jensen. Adam waited for Rita. And even though he was wasting his time, he was sort of waiting for the woman who’d disappeared into the bathroom.

He had a feeling she’d already slipped out without him realizing it, though.

He’d been watching the doors and hadn’t seen her leave.

She had, though. He’d bet his right nut on it.

That slow smile continued to tease him.

Adam wished he could figure out why.

It wasn’t just because he wanted to taste that mouth.

He’d kissed more women than he could remember and he had taken a fair number to bed. If he ever stopped to count just how many, the number would probably leave him a little ashamed inside. Well, if he could find it in him to care. That wasn’t likely to happen. The part of him that could feel shame was twisted up over things that mattered more than the fact that he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.

Agitated, he wiped the bar down with more force than needed, focused on filling the drink orders and keeping busy. And watching, just to make sure. Another twenty minutes passed before he acknowledged the fact that she had most definitely left.

It was another thirty minutes before he caught sight of Rita and Jensen in the hallway.

Rita joined him behind the bar, her face pale, but her hands were steady as she tied her apron back on.

“You want to head on home?” he asked, taking a tray of empties from Katie. They were past the busiest point of the evening, and even if they weren’t, Rita’s night had to suck.

“No.” She gave him a wan smile. “Home is the last thing I need.”

Her eyes had a haunted look.

Under his lashes he caught the sidelong looks coming their way, and he sighed. “You certain
this
is what you need tonight, sweetheart?”

A sad laugh escaped her.

“No. But being alone isn’t the answer, either.”

*   *   *

Two lousy hours passed before last call.

Shakers was almost empty, just a few stragglers here and there, and they left within a few minutes. As Adam locked up behind them, he wanted nothing more than to go home and just crash.

Not an option, though. Yet.

A headache pulsed behind his eyes, and as he took care of the cleanup his hands practically shook with the need for a drink.

It was nights like this when he knew he was a glutton for punishment.

An alcoholic who owned a bar was just a man begging for bad things.

Jaw clenched, he finished up and moved away from the siren call of booze. Money. He could deal with the money and be steady.