Making It Right (Most Likely To #3)

Twelve years later

Red and blue lights from Jo’s squad car lit up the night sky, and the rarely used siren bounced off the pine trees in eerie opposition to the quiet country road. Josie had called Jo personally to ask her to stop by and handle a couple of locals that were raising the anxiety levels at R&B’s. The only real bar in River Bend sat nestled off the main road leading out of town. It took Jo less than five minutes to climb into a ready uniform, strap on her duty belt, and back out of her driveway.

Gravel churned under her tires as she pulled to an abrupt stop in the parking lot of Josie’s bar. A half a dozen motorcycles along with a dozen familiar pickups and off-road vehicles told her the place was close to capacity. Not surprising for a Friday night. She straightened her sheriff’s hat on her head and doubled her stride up the steps to the single-level tavern.

Inside, music pumped from the jukebox, and the smell of stale beer from one too many party fouls wafted from the floor.

She stopped just inside and scanned the room.

Josie stood behind the bar, her eyes narrowing on Jo before she nodded toward the back of the room in a silent signal of where the trouble brewed.

Jo wove her way through the bar, nodding in acknowledgment as many of the patrons said hello, using her first name instead of her title.

Steve Richey and Billy Hoekman crowded a table opposite the Ryan brothers. The four men had been friends at one time, but that was before Dustin Ryan ditched Billy’s baby sister shortly after they were engaged. Never mind that the rumors around town were pointing to Billy’s sister having a second boyfriend in Waterville, the blame of the breakup went on Dustin. In their midtwenties, the four men should know better than to take their problems to the bar. Unfortunately, alcohol only brought out their differences in bright, shiny sparkles.

A few yards away, separated by half a dozen people, Jo heard the jabs over the music and scraping of chairs on the old laminate floor, which was covered in a layer of sawdust to help soak up the nightly spills.

“Let it go, Billy.” Cody was the younger Ryan by only a year. The two brothers didn’t give Jo any trouble, and as she saw it, were probably the ones keeping the fists from flying.

Billy, on the other hand, had brushed elbows with her more than a few times. He wasn’t a happy drunk, but he knew better than to push her.

“A man stands by his promises. Then again, maybe you’re not a man. Maybe you like men . . . that pretty face of yours probably attracts all kinds of boys when you’re in Eugene.”

Dustin, who had been sitting with his fingers clutching a longneck beer, pushed his chair away from the table with the last insult and turned his six-foot frame toward his would-have-been brother-in-law.

Everyone had a breaking point, and it looked like Dustin had met his.

“Boys?” Jo stepped close enough to the party of four to be seen and heard, but far enough away to avoid a fist if one were thrown.

Cody noticed Jo first and visibly took a step back.

Dustin never stopped looking at Billy as he nearly bumped chests with the man.

Steve flanked Billy’s side; his gaze skated over Jo with a look of contempt.

“I’ve heard just about enough of your mouth, Billy Ray.”

A few nearby patrons moved away from the five of them, and the noise in the bar started to dwindle. Everyone knew that Billy Ray didn’t like his middle name being used. It sounded hick, according to the man, and he refused to be labeled as such even if the title fit.

Billy bumped up against Dustin, the move just shy of a shove.

“You really wanna do this?” Billy asked.

“Hello? Am I invisible?” Jo stepped closer.

She knew both men saw her, but only Dustin hesitated.

“C’mon, Dustin.” Cody took hold of his brother’s arm and pulled him back.

Jo looked to Steve to do the same for his team.

He didn’t.

“I really don’t think your mother wants to bail you out of my jail, Billy. My guess is her hip still aches since her fall last winter.” Jo wasn’t above using family guilt to have her needs met. Besides, processing a bar fight and having to sleep in her chair all night because she had someone in the one holding cell in River Bend’s sheriff’s station didn’t sound like a good time for any of them.

Buddy, the short-order cook from the back of the bar, stepped to the other side of the party, his size and presence there in support of Jo, should she need it. “Josie doesn’t want any trouble.”

Jo watched the flick of the fingers, the twitching of the eyes . . . the breaths of both men facing each other off.

Cody tugged his brother a second time and broke the tension. “He’s not worth it.”

Dustin pulled out of his brother’s grip but did the right thing and backed away.

Jo released the breath she held when Billy lowered his eyes for one brief second.

His body language changed in a heartbeat and he charged Dustin’s turned back.

Well, hell!

Jo jumped in, one hand reaching for Billy’s wrist at the same time her forearm pushed into the space just above his elbow. With a pivot and a full-body push, Billy Ray Hoekman was flat on his face with Jo reaching for her handcuffs.

He reared beneath her, would have had a shot at bucking her off if her knee wasn’t grinding into the man’s kidney. She took a breath only once he was cuffed.

Cody held Dustin back, and Buddy stood between her and Steve.

“Damn it, Billy . . . you just couldn’t leave it alone, could you?”

“She’s my sister, Jo.”

“That’s Sheriff to you, Mr. Hoekman. And Opal is capable of dealing with her own relationships. You don’t need to beat up her boyfriends in front of a cop.”

Billy cussed in a not so quiet way, the sawdust pushing away from his open mouth as he lay on the floor. Every patron in the bar had their eyes focused on them. The only sound came from the jukebox, which blared out a Led Zeppelin song from the seventies.

“Okay, folks. Show’s over.” Josie made her way to Jo’s side, shaking her head. She knelt down so Billy could hear. “I don’t wanna see you in here for six months, Billy . . . you got that?”

“C’mon, Josie . . .” Even from the floor, Billy was trying to work his way back in.

“Six months!”

Jo brought Billy to his feet, sawdust stuck to the side of his face. He stumbled, evidently from one too many drinks. She glanced over to Steve, his eyes glossy. “I think you might need to walk home, Steve.”

He shuffled his feet, turned away from Buddy, and walked out the back door.

“Dustin, Cody . . . you should probably make your way home, too.” Jo didn’t expect an argument.

The patrons of R&B’s parted a path and held the door open for her as she passed through. Buddy walked behind her as far as the bottom steps. “You got this?” he asked.