Crash and Burn Read Free Page B

beer, watched baseball, and ate pizza from the end of the bar. Her phone vibrated and she glanced down, expecting Krista had changed her mind about the drinks.
    She didn’t recognize the number.
    “Moreno,” she answered.
    “Um, is this Scarlet Moreno?”
    “Yes. Who’s this?”
    “Jim Douglas. You stopped to help after Wendy hit me this afternoon.”
    “I remember.” And she remembered giving him her card. Great, just what she needed, getting dragged into this spat.
    She was so glad she’d decided not to get married. After breaking it off with Matt, she vowed to never even consider marriage again. Jim and Wendy reinforced her wise decision.
    “I need to hire you.”
    “I don’t want the case.”
    “You have to listen to me.”
    Scarlet grew irritated. “I don’t have to do anything.”
    He forced his voice to remain calm when he said, “Please. She’s going to kill me.”
    “Go to the police.”
    “They won’t believe me!” His voice rose again. “Look, Ms. Moreno, give me five minutes, please. Five minutes to prove that I’ll be dead if you don’t help me.”
    “Five minutes.” She sighed. “No promises, Mr. Douglas. If I don’t like this case, I’m not taking it.”
    “Okay. Where can I meet you?”
    “My office, Monday morning.”
    “I’ll be dead by Monday!”
    He sounded terrified and angry at the same time. “It’s my night off,” she mumbled. You have no life, Scarlet. “Fine.” She gave him the address of the bar.
    “I know where that is,” he said. “Fifteen minutes. Thank you.”
    She wished she hadn’t answered her phone.
    She motioned for Isaac. He pointed to her beer in the silent language of do you want another?
    Sadly, she shook her head. “Water,” she said. She grabbed another slice of pizza, then closed the box and said, “Can you put this behind the bar?”
    Isaac took it and put a water bottle down in front of her. But his eyes were averted. She opened the bottle and turned on her stool. While sipping, she glanced around and found what had interested Isaac. A group of college kids was not unusual. There were five boys and two girls; again, nothing unusual. As Scarlet watched, one of the young men leaned in close to the brunette and his hands went under the table where Scarlet couldn’t see, but by the expression on the girl’s face, she didn’t like it. She shifted and batted his hand away. He laughed and drank more beer. Scarlet glanced at Isaac. He was getting angry.
    The girls didn’t leave, even with the unwanted fondling. It was a recipe for disaster.
    Scarlet got up and walked over to where Isaac was pouring a pair of drafts. “You can only help those who help themselves.”
    “Shut up,” he said. Then he glanced at her as if he wanted to say something else, but didn’t. He put the drinks on a tray and Heather, the lone cocktail waitress who worked Fridays and weekends, came over to pick it up. Scarlet caught her eye, and she nodded. Good, they had an understanding. Heather would give her the heads-up if things got out of hand.
    And it was early—only seven on Friday night. All she wanted was to finish her pizza, have another beer, and watch a movie. Was that too much to ask? She’d certainly earned it after walking in on Cavanaugh that afternoon. She went back to her stool and kept an eye on Isaac, who was keeping his eye on the college group.
    Jim Douglas walked in fourteen minutes after his call and looked around for her. She didn’t motion to him, wanting to assess him before he put on an act. He was tall, over six feet, blond, and attractive—if you liked the too-perfect, clean-cut, chiseled-jaw type. Not really Scarlet’s thing—she preferred men who were a bit rough around the edges. Even her ex Matt, who was a top-notch, up-and-coming prosecutor, had a tat under his impeccably tailored suits. Jim oozed stereotypical So-Cal hot men, definitely a fit with Wendy’s model-good looks.
    He saw her watching him at the end of the bar and