Tri Me (Primrose, Minnesota, Book 4)

Tri Me

Primrose, Minnesota, Book 4

By

Mia Dymond

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2014 Mia Dymond

Published on Smashwords

Cover photo: Anette Romanenko|Dreamstime.com

Cover by Dara England

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All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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CHAPTER ONE

A Thursday night murder is simply out of the question.

Alex Jennings dismissed the foremost thought in her brain as she pushed open the front door of Hannigan’s, the local sports bar she frequented once a week. Not that any other night might be acceptable, but Thursday nights were vital to her sanity. She refused to let anything interfere with DRAMA, a group of her closest friends; the camaraderie she had with Dara, Reagan, Annie and Marnie was precious and with the inclusion of Liberty and Bri, the group of women had become almost inseparable – they just needed to come up with another readable acronym.

She stepped inside and paused to scrutinize the clientele. As usual, the crowd huddled around the bar to watch whatever game happened to be broadcast. Deep laughter and baritone voices filled the atmosphere and eased her tension as she realized most tables were full of patrons she recognized and much to her relief, ninety percent male.

She smirked at her statistical analysis; murder certainly caused quick thinking.

With a deep breath, she set her body in motion and headed straight for the corner booth DRAMA called home on meeting night. Just like every other night, she was the last to arrive.

You’re late, Dara said as she scooted to make room.

Yeah, yeah, she mumbled. What did I miss?

Nothing yet. Dara nudged a wine glass toward her. We waited for you.

You’re my hero.

Long day?

You could say that. What’s on the agenda?

I haven’t found any more corpses in my living room.

Although she knew her friend referenced her own recent unfortunate experience, as soon as the word corpse left Dara’s mouth, Alex’s mind flashed back to the words she’d heard just hours before.

Mark my words, I will kill you. I will hunt you down and put a bullet right through your brain. Don’t doubt me, Alex, I am dead serious.

As absurd as it sounded, she’d almost laughed out loud. Somehow threats just seemed to be part of the job for a defense attorney such as herself. Determined not to alarm Dara, she quickly re-entered the conversation. That’s a positive. How’s Mace?

He’s fine. Other than a slight limp, you’d never know he took a bullet for me.

A high-pitched squeal from the opposite side of the booth caused her to pause in conversation and frown. How much has she had to drink?

I’m not drunk! Annie lifted Liberty’s left hand, her ring finger decorated with sparkling ice. I’m thinking someone has something to share.

Liberty grinned. I have news.

Obviously, Bri drawled.

Liberty nudged the other woman with her shoulder. Shane and I were married while we were in the Caribbean.

Dara smiled. I knew it. Pay up, ladies.

The bet wasn’t official, Bri mumbled as she reached into her purse and slapped a five dollar bill on the table.

Liberty narrowed her eyes. You bet on me?

I knew you couldn’t hold out, Dara said easily.

"Well, I’ll bet there’s something else you don’t know."

Alex almost took Liberty’s bet and raised it tenfold. Although Liberty obviously had a secret, so did she. She reached for her glass and quickly drained the contents as more words attacked her.

I know who you are and what you’re doing.

She returned her glass to the table and gestured for the waitress, amazingly surprised at the silence. Finally, she broke it. Don’t make me interrogate you, Liberty.

I’m pregnant.

Liberty Prescott! Annie scolded. Shame on you for keeping a secret!

Liberty Hartwell, the other woman corrected, and it took us by surprise.

Of course Nurse Reagan was the next to speak. How far along?

Three months.

You’re feeling okay?

Alex worked hard to remain focused on Liberty’s good news while Reagan’s mention of health brought back another memory.

Women like you make me sick. This time you won’t get your way.

Never better.

Liberty’s response quickly pulled her away from the evil thought. Congratulations, Lib. Alex gave her friend a genuine smile. That means Bri’s next.

The other woman widened her eyes. What on Earth are you talking about?

"If Jake looks at you with that I’m-gonna-eat-you-up look one more time, you’re toast, sister."

Yeah well what about Dara?

Me? Dara squeaked. What about me?

You know what. Alex grinned. Mace practically drools all over himself every time he looks at you.

She’s totally right, Marnie chimed in. The man is so lovesick, it’s almost disgusting.

Your own personal lab monkey, Bri taunted.

Dara’s smile split her lips in two. He’s excellent research material.

Alex rolled her eyes, warmed by the happiness Liberty, Bri, and Dara had found. And she was willing to bet Marnie, Annie, and Reagan wouldn’t be far behind.

So who do we bet on next?

Dara stared directly at her. You.

She sat deathly still, careful not to react. She knew these women well – if she even flinched, they’d pounce on her like a lion on a T-bone steak. She reached for her wine glass lifted it to her mouth, and drew the cold liquid down her throat – hesitation was kind of a chicken way out of denial, but the best move at this point. Finally she cleared her throat and placed the glass back on the table. How much do you stand to lose?

Nothing. Absolute confidence shone in Marnie’s crystal clear blue eyes. Besides, I’m already twenty bucks ahead.

How?

The other woman shrugged. I won a bet with Mace.

Although insanely curious to hear the fairytale her friends concocted, she wasn’t entirely convinced she really wanted particulars. Then again, maybe it would add comic relief to her recently-threatened life. Okay, who have you designated as Prince Charming?

Detective Stewart, Marnie answered.

Jackson?

As soon as his name crossed her lips, Alex realized too late she’d given them a wealth of information. Determined not to give them any more, she very slowly moved her gaze from one woman to the next until she stopped on Bri.

"She calls him Jackson," Bri drawled.

Oh for Pete’s sake. She dismissed her friends with a wave of one hand. "That is his name."

You guys might as well go ahead and pay me. Marnie doubled a fist, blew on her knuckles, and then rubbed it against her chest. Alex never calls a man by his first name.

He’s not a detective anymore, remember?

Technicality. Dara grinned. And I for one appreciate all that muscle-coated testosterone in the same place.

She wholeheartedly agreed with her friend’s description of the newly-formed partnership of Recovery Specialists, Inc. The professional reputations of Ryker, Jake, Mace and Jackson spoke volumes for their expertise and all four hard-bodied men represented eye candy of the sweetest kind.

Ryker has a solid reputation, she admitted, humored by her silent pun.

And a mountain of muscle, Marnie murmured.

Alex turned and raised an eyebrow at the distinct glitter in her friend’s eyes.

What? I just agree with Dara.

All of those men are taken except Ryker. Alex breathed a sigh of relief at her ability to redirect the conversation – and then sucked it back in when Marnie spoke.

Jackson’s not taken… is he Alex?

No.

"I distinctly remember seeing two wine glasses on your table recently."

Alex bit back another hasty response. Denial was fruitless - these women were relentless. Instead, she took another desperate stab at changing the subject. Do you want to spend the evening talking about the non-existent hanky-panky between me and Ja— Detective Stewart— or discuss something more interesting?

He’s not a detective anymore, Marnie chided.

She drew in a calming breath and put her armor into place. The man will always be a detective, Marnie. He’s too proud of his Superman cape. She paused, confident she’d smothered the fire. For now. Do you want to hear my news or not?

Dara laid a hand on her forearm and squeezed. What else, Alex?

Although insanely grateful to leave the topic of Jackson Stewart behind, she wasn’t all that confident in sharing the phone calls. Especially since she knew full well Detective Stewart would become a part of the conversation. Again.

I’ve received some odd voicemail messages.

Dara frowned. Odd?

Alex nodded, still not quite sure she should continue.

You’ll have to give us a little more than that, Marnie drawled.

Long story short, some crazed woman wants to kill me.

Alex moved her gaze around the suddenly silent table. For at least three long seconds, not one of the twelve eyelashes blinked and every one of her friends stared back with a look she interpreted as sheer horror.

My sentiment exactly, she mumbled.

Dara spoke first. Are you sure?

She reached into her purse for her cell phone, pushed the voicemail icon, and then handed the phone to Dara.

Seconds later, the blood left her friend’s cheeks as she returned the phone. Oh, Alex. Dara rubbed her hands across her forehead. Do you know her?

No. Do you have a contact who can trace the call?

I take it she blocked the number.

Of course. She glanced at the call history for at least the hundredth time. Private number.

As far as I know, a call can only be traced from a number. Unless – Dara paused to tap her chin with one finger. It’s possible to trace the signal from your phone back to the tower that sent the signal in the first place.

That would give us a phone number?

No, but a location. Dara gave her a lopsided grin. I may have just found my next bestseller.

Not again, Marnie groaned. I nominate Alex as your sidekick this time.

May I listen? Liberty reached for the phone. Alex re-dialed and handed it to her.

Bri folded her arms and rested her elbows on the table. Is there a reason for this woman’s anger to be directed at you?

Obviously I’ve offended her. How, I have no idea.

Most usually, a man is involved.

I haven’t dated since Dara was questioned for murder – the first time.

Was he married?

What? No, Bri! He was free as a bird and it was once.

Why?

Does that question have any relevance to why this woman wants to kill me?

No, I’m just curious.

"Nice try, but my warped brain is