Page 39 of The Murder Club

Eric scowled. “Who is this guy?”

“A friend.”

“A friend who is ready and willing to protect her from anyone who I think is a threat,” Dom growled. “Got it?”

“Bailey,” Eric whined.

Bailey shook her head. “Please don’t come back, Eric. And no more pictures.”

“You know I’ll do anything for you,” Eric insisted. “Anything.”

“Just go.”

Eric waited for Dom to crawl out and slam the passenger door, then squealed away. Bailey watched him turn at the nearest corner and disappear.

“His interest in you isn’t healthy,” Dom said as he moved to stand next to her. “He’s at the top of the list of suspects.”

“He’s a little odd,” she agreed.

“There’s nothing wrong with odd. Or being socially awkward. Some of my best friends are both,” he said, his hands planted on his hips as if deciding the level of threat posed by the younger man. “But none of them would sneak around taking pictures of women without their permission. That goes beyond eccentric.”

“Okay, he’s more than odd,” Bailey agreed. It pained her to admit that her trust in Eric had been misplaced. “But I’m more worried about the strange artist who wanted the pictures in the first place.”

“Yeah, assuming Eric wasn’t making up a story to cover his ass, I think we should have a chat with the mysterious Ford Smithson.” Dom’s brows abruptly snapped together. “But first it looks like you have company.”

Bailey turned her head to watch the brown SUV with a sheriff’s star painted on the side pull into her driveway, her brief moment of relief that Eric was gone quickly replaced with dread.

“I have a feeling this isn’t good news.”

Chapter 8

Dom watched as Zac Evans climbed out of his vehicle. He was wearing his sheriff’s uniform, and even at a distance he could make out the lawman’s grim expression. Bailey was right. This wasn’t a social visit.

Scurrying across the street, Bailey halted directly in front of her cousin. “What’s going on?”

Zac cast a quick glance toward Dom before returning his attention to Bailey. “I wanted to check on you.”

“Why?”

“Can we go inside?”

“Sure.”

Bailey turned to lead her guest into her house and Dom silently followed them, his gaze locked on Zac’s rigid posture. He didn’t know what had happened, but he was certain they weren’t going to like it.

Entering the living room, Bailey waved a hand toward the sofa. She waited for Zac to take a seat, her expression wary, as if she was preparing for a blow.

“Can I get you some coffee?”

Zac grimaced. “Yeah, I’m going to need it.”

Bailey hesitated, obviously torn between finding out what Zac was doing there and wanting to put off the bad news. In the end she reluctantly turned to head into the kitchen, leaving the two men alone.

Zac barely waited for her to disappear before he was staring at Dom with blatant suspicion. “What are you doing here?”

“I brought doughnuts.” Dom strolled to grab the cardboard box from the table next to the front door, then, flipping open the lid, he crossed to stand in front of the lawman. “Want one?”

Zac leaned forward to gaze at the assortment of pastries, muttering a curse as he pulled out a glazed doughnut.