stop thinking about her all evening long.
“It’s showing on your face,” Hawk said with a grin. “Did you at least get her phone number?”
Damn it. She’d scrambled his brains so much he didn’t have any way to contact her. Was she listed? He’d find out once he got home. If not, he had a brother who could dig out practically any information on anyone. Family came in handy sometimes.
“Man, she must have rung your bell in your office.” Hawk chuckled. “You looked shell-shocked coming out of there. I knew I should have gone after her myself.”
Gabe grabbed Hawk’s collar. “One more word, and you’re fired. Not joking, Hawk.”
The bartender’s eyes narrowed to disturbing slits, then he blinked and the murderous gaze dissipated. “Interesting. You’re serious about her. Guess I proved my point then.”
Gabe released Hawk. “Was there a reason my brother didn’t kill you when you two were overseas?”
“Sorry, I seem to be indestructible, unfortunately. Besides, you need me for your side job. Who else is going to watch your back?” Hawk stacked some clean glasses behind the bar. “Deb will probably be back. Maybe. If you didn’t scare her off.” He turned to the next customer.
Probably best if Gabe had, though he couldn’t imagine anything intimidating Deb. Still, she’d never let her guard down with him that way before. He hadn’t been ready for the intensity simmering between them, and now he regretted losing control. Trouble was, he was in no position to start a relationship. Even if his investigation hadn’t gone anywhere yet, the whole thing could explode at any moment. If his brother Luke’s investigation held any truth—and Gabe had no doubt it did—more than a few people had died trying to bring Jeff Gasmerati down, plus whoever in the Jefferson County Sheriff’s Office had hitched a ride on the wrong side of the law.
Speaking of dirty cops, three deputies strode through the door. Bad news, but Gabe forced a smile anyway. “You’re just in time for last call, gents. What can I get you?”
Within minutes, Gabe had pulled two beers on tap and sent a double shot of straight whiskey to the last cop. Menken downed it, then asked for another.
“Get a table,” he growled at his companions.
Gabe didn’t mention closing time again, even though he wanted to. His Jeffco captain, John Garrison, had told Gabe to watch these three specifically. John’s suspicions ran deep with them. A few pieces of missing evidence in their key cases and a few too many closed-door meetings with Gabe’s prime suspect, Sheriff Tower.
Everyone else in the office tried to avoid that slippery bastard, so the fact that the three musketeers, as Gabe had dubbed them, didn’t, dinged his suspicion meter.
Tower’s three deputies smelled of corruption. At one time, they’d been decent officers, but the scuttlebutt that went around the bar—and the informants who met Gabe—told a much uglier story.
Gabe didn’t want to believe they’d turned, but he’d learned the hard way that betrayal by people you’d trusted came too damn easy.
Either he or Luke would get the proof. They had to. And soon.
Gabe rubbed the back of his neck. He hadn’t found a lick of evidence against the sheriff. The guy was Teflon. Even when the sheriff’s son, Brian, had been murdered last year amid swirling rumors about parties and meetings with Jeff Gasmerati, the local crime boss, they hadn’t touched Tower’s reelection.
Jeff Gasmerati was another matter. As a snitch, Ernie had become Gabe’s window into the organization. Gasmerati owned half of Denver, with just enough legitimate business to insulate himself from the law.
Gabe hadn’t been able to prove it, but if he were a betting man, he would say the sheriff was in bed with Gasmerati and had been since Tower was elected to fill the position vacated by the untimely death of a man who’d held the office for twenty years before him. Being sheriff in Jefferson