“Investigation, my ass,” he growled. “Get the hell out of here.”
The wounded man moaned, drawing Reede’s attention. “I suggest you tend to your own business, Sheriff Lambert,” Alex said tartly.
He cursed as he knelt down beside the man. When he noticed the amount of blood, however, his concentration switched immediately from Alex to the victim. “How’re you doing, cowboy?” The man moaned. “What’s your name?”
His eyes fluttered open. He comprehended the question, but didn’t seem able to answer. Reede gently moved aside his clothing until he found the source of the blood. The bullet had pierced his side at about waist level. “You’ll live,” he told him. “Just hang in there a few more minutes. An ambulance is on its way.”
He came to his feet and walked toward the man still in the bouncers’ custody. He was standing with his head bowed.
“What about you? Got a name?” Reede asked, jerking the man’s chin up. “Well, howdy, Lewis,” he drawled. “Thought we’d seen the last of your miserable hide. Didn’t take my warning seriously, did you? Can’t tell you what a pleasure it’s gonna be to have you residing in my jail again.”
“Go fuck yourself, Lambert,” the man sneered insolently.
Reede hauled back his fist, then reached for the man’s spine through about a foot and a half of abdominal tissue. Lewis doubled at the waist, but only until Reede’s fist connected with his chin, bringing it up with a powerful blow. He was then lifted by the lapels of his jacket and shoved against the wall.
“You’ve got a big mouth, Lewis,” Reede said calmly, barely winded by the exertion. “We’ll see how smart you talk after a month or two in a place where the bad boys will make you eat their dicks for breakfast every morning.”
The man whimpered helplessly. When Reede released him, he slid down the wall to form a pathetic heap on the floor. Two deputies stepped into the room, gawking at their plush surroundings.
“He resisted arrest,” Reede calmly said, pointing at Lewis, then curtly ordered him handcuffed, Mirandized, and booked for attempted murder. He consulted with the paramedics who had come in behind the deputies and were dealing with the injured man.
“He’s lost a lot of blood,” one of them reported to Reede as he slid a needle into the victim’s arm. “It’s serious, but not critical.”
Satisfied that everything was being handled properly, Reede’s attention reverted to Alex. Taking her upper arm in a firm grip, he hauled her toward the door.
“Let me go.”
“Unless Nora Gail hired you on, you’ve got no business here. Nora Gail, shut down for the night.”
“This is Friday, Reede.”
“Tough. Don’t let anybody leave, either. Somebody’ll be along soon to start the questioning.”
He roughly shepherded Alex down the steps and into his Blazer, nearly cramming her into the seat before he slammed the door shut. He climbed in behind the wheel.
“My car is over there,” she told him stubbornly. “I can drive myself back to town.”
“I’ll have one of the deputies pick it up later.” He ground the key in the ignition. “What in God’s name possessed you to come here?”
“I didn’t know what it was until I arrived.”
“Well, when you figured it out, why didn’t you leave?”
“I wanted to talk to Nora Gail. She’s a very old and dear friend of yours, I understand,” she said with phony sweetness.
At the intersection with the highway, they met one of his patrol cars turning in. He signaled the deputy to stop and rolled down his window. “Give me your keys,” he told Alex. She passed them to him because he wasn’t going to give her a choice, and because, in spite of her brave front, she was trembling.
Reede tossed her keys to the deputy and instructed him to have his partner drive Ms. Gaither’s car to the Westerner Motel when they were finished with the preliminary investigation of the shooting. With that taken care of, he zoomed onto the highway.
“Don’t you feel the least bit guilty?” Alex asked him.
“For what?”
“For turning a blind eye to a whorehouse operating in your county?”
“No.”
She looked at him, completely flabbergasted. “Why not? Because the madam is an old flame of yours?”