Harlequin Intrigue April 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 Carol Ericson (short books to read TXT) 📖

long as half an hour, the longest the agents would allow since they wanted to talk to everyone before the night ended.

Jax glanced at the base of his bed back at his hotel, where Patches had the right idea. Her tongue lolled slightly out of her mouth, her feet periodically twitching in her sleep. As soon as they’d returned to the hotel, she’d hopped up into bed and fallen fast asleep.

He needed to do the same. But despite being emotionally worn out, he was still hungry, since he hadn’t ever found time for dinner. Part of him was still amped up, feeling the pressure from all directions. A need to help the victims and families move forward. A need to help the investigators get information to find the person responsible.

Slipping quietly out of the hotel room, he slid on his coat and trudged down the stairs. The hotel didn’t have its own restaurant, and as far as he could tell, the only thing nearby that was open was a bar. He didn’t want a drink, but maybe they’d have food. At this point he’d settle for peanuts.

He zipped his coat up to his chin and huddled low in it. Springtime in Alaska was beautiful, but it wasn’t warm.

On his way out, he waved to Ben and Anderson, who were still slumped in the lobby chairs, trading case notes.

“Where to?” Ben asked, raising an eyebrow when Jax answered, “Bar down the road.”

Jax looked them over, in the same spot he’d left them after they’d returned from the hospital. “Did you two ever eat dinner?”

“Power bars,” Anderson said. Without looking up from his phone, he tossed one to Jax. “I always travel with them.”

“Thanks.” The protein-heavy power bar was probably better than anything he’d get in the bar, and Jax hesitated, debating returning to his room. But he was too antsy to sleep and although he liked Ben and Anderson, he needed a break from the case. “See you later.”

When he stepped through the door out into the frigid Alaskan air, Jax knew it was what he needed. A walk probably would have been better than the bar, but he didn’t know the area and he didn’t want to get lost or run into a wild animal. So instead, he walked quickly toward the log-cabin-style establishment. The walk was long enough to make his nose and ears sting from the cold, but not long enough to clear his head.

He heard it when he was fifteen feet away. Yelling and crashing sounds. Probably a fight, definitely too many people involved.

Then a couple holding hands darted out of the bar and ran toward him.

“What’s happening?” he asked.

“People are mad and drinking,” the woman said, only pausing briefly as they continued past him, toward the hotel. “It turned into a big fight. I wouldn’t go in there.”

Yanking out his cell phone, he texted Ben and Anderson a message.

Bar fight. Call the Luna police? Or earn your community badges today...

A bar fight was a local PD problem, not the purview of the FBI. But the agents were close and Luna police had a lot to manage right now. Jax didn’t know which option Ben and Anderson would choose. But he figured doubling up couldn’t hurt. He’d just started to dial the Luna police chief directly when a female voice cut through the yelling. A voice he recognized, slightly husky and naturally commanding. But right now underlaid with definite panic.

Dropping his phone into his pocket, Jax raced inside.

Five angry and obviously drunk men were crowded near the side wall, some of them holding beer bottles aloft like weapons. All of them were yelling, most of it incoherent, but what Jax could make out were a mix of violent threats and juvenile insults. Two were facing off against each other, shifting back and forth, glowering.

A sixth was passed out half on a table, half on the floor, and looked like he needed stitches. A seventh stood near the bar, holding his own beer bottle and watching the spectacle with a wide grin. The bartender stood behind him, brandishing a shotgun but looking uncertain.

Where was Keara?

Jax strained to see, then realized. She was behind the pack of men, ordering them to back up. From the way his eyes started watering and his throat was suddenly on fire as he took one step farther inside and the door slammed shut behind him, he realized she’d sprayed them with mace. It seemed to have only made them angrier.

Fear tightened his chest, knowing she was trapped behind the angry group. Could he wade into them, give Keara a chance to slide free?

He rejected the idea immediately. There were too many of them, fueled by alcohol and fury, likely to take any physical contact as an invitation to resume fighting.

Still, he had to do something. The two who’d been circling each other had turned toward Keara, and from the way they shared a sudden look of agreement, they were about to rush her.

Jax wasn’t armed. Even if he was, it probably wouldn’t help, based on the bartender’s worried shake of his head.

“I already called the police,” the bartender yelled at him. “If I fire this now, it might go through those guys and hit the lady back there. She’s in trouble.”

Jax swore and looked around for something he could use as a weapon, even though he knew it was useless. What he needed was Ben and Anderson, a way to even the numbers.

Leaping on top of the bar, Jax bellowed, “FBI!”

As one, the group turned toward him, but they only lowered their fists and bottles for a split second. Then they were up again, and the group was turning back toward each other.

Faster than he would have thought possible, while the men were distracted, Keara slid along the wall, breaking free of the group. She had her pistol out and leveled at the man who seemed to be the primary instigator.

“I’m chief of police in Desparre!” she yelled. “And the man on the