Point of Danger (Triple Threat #1) - Irene Hannon Page 0,13

of his mug.

Both of these guys were morons who didn’t have a clue about what really mattered. All they cared about was making enough money to keep the fridge full of beer and brats. Neither of them ever gave a thought to the future.

But the three of them had a history . . . and the job they’d gotten him with the painting company after he came back from California was an easy gig that gave him time to do other things.

More important things.

And it didn’t hurt to hang out with these two on Friday nights once in a while. It was what most guys their age did. Even if he had to put up with the asinine high school nicknames they refused to leave in the past.

“Who’d have guessed Eve Reilly would end up looking like that.” Suds swigged his beer and shook his head. “All I remember from high school is her frizzy hair.”

“Nah—you’re thinking of her sister Grace.” Crip kept chowing down on the popcorn. “She was a year behind us. Eve was a year ahead of us. Isn’t that right, Buzz?”

“Yeah. I think.”

To tell the truth, he didn’t remember either sister all that well from high school. Best as he could recall, they were both A students who took all the advanced courses. They’d never shared a classroom with him—or any of his group. He’d seen them in the cafeteria or study hall once a week, max.

But he knew all about Eve now.

“So what do you think about that?” Crip waved salt-encrusted fingers toward the screen, where a photo of her was displayed in the bottom corner while the reporter talked to a cop in the center. “Why would someone pull a stunt like that over a stupid radio show?”

Because it wasn’t stupid.

It was dangerous.

“Yeah. I mean, if they catch that guy, he could go to prison.” Suds waved at the bartender and held up his empty mug. “He took a big chance.”

“Maybe he thought it was worth it.” Buzz sipped his beer, nursing the drink. No way did he want to risk getting a DUI. That could ruin a person’s life.

“I don’t see how pulling a prank like that would be worth it. What did it accomplish?” Crip scraped the last of the popcorn from the bowl.

“He may have left a message.” Buzz watched the screen as the camera zoomed in on Eve, sitting on a bench behind the yellow tape, talking to a tall guy in a jacket.

“What kind of message?” Crip stared at him.

“I don’t know. Could be someone doesn’t agree with her politics.”

Suds snorted. “I don’t agree with a lot of people’s politics. That doesn’t mean I go around putting bombs on their porch.”

“Fake bombs,” Crip said.

“Whatever.” Suds waved a hand. “It’s still dumb. People are entitled to their opinions. This is a free country with free speech. If someone doesn’t like what she says, they can get their own radio show.”

Crip chortled. “I can just see you on the radio. You don’t know current events from the Current River.”

“Hey—people could be interested in the river. I know fishing inside out. And that wouldn’t get me bombs on my doorstep, either. I’m sick of politics anyway.” He scanned the screen again. “Why a chick with her assets wants to waste time on all those heavy topics is beyond me. She ought to do a show on a froufrou subject, like cooking or makeup or interior decorating. Don’t you think so, Buzz?”

“Yeah.”

Double yeah.

And it was possible she’d switch gears, after this scare.

“How come you’re so quiet tonight?” Crip nudged him.

“Long day.”

“I hear you. Any big weekend plans? Hot dates?”

“Nope.”

Crip sighed. “Me either. But I bet Eve’s got guys falling over themselves to take her out.” He motioned toward the screen with his mug. “What a looker. She sure didn’t deserve what happened today.”

Buzz bit back the retort that sprang to the tip of his tongue. Disagreeing with his buddies would only raise questions.

But the truth was, she deserved everything she’d gotten—and more.

He took another sip of beer while Crip and Suds continued the conversation.

And maybe she’d get it.

Maybe there’d be an Act II to today’s performance.

It was certainly worth thinking about.

How ironic that she’d been the one sent to cover the Eve Reilly drama for tomorrow’s paper.

Carolyn Matthews stepped out of her shoes and picked up the TV remote. Late as she’d worked on her article, there wasn’t much chance she’d catch any of the TV coverage—but with a breaking story like this,