P. Alderman: A Killing Tide

Steve's normally pleasant expression hardened, his eyes going flat. "I said , leave. Now."

Kaz reached out and gripped his arm. "Gary. Please."

He glared at her for a moment, then jerked away. "Hell, I'm out of here." He tossed some money on the bar. When she reached out again, he glanced down at her, his expression momentarily softening. "Leave me be, Kaz." Then he shot a hard look at Chuck—a look, she realized, that was tinged with fear. "You think about what I said." He snagged his coat off the back of the bar stool and shouldered his way between them.

Chuck slanted a quiet look at her while he paid his bill. "Stick to the sidelines on this one, kiddo." Then he followed Gary out the door.

She stood for a moment in the spot they'd vacated, then huffed out a breath. Turning back to Chapman, she forced another smile. "You know, I really could've handled that."

He studied her without comment. She'd been right—his eyes were light blue, so light they were almost silver. But his gaze wasn't so much unfriendly as simply world-weary.

"Most women would hesitate before getting between two rough-looking men spoiling for a fight," he said finally.

She shook her head. "One of those 'rough-looking' men was my brother."

"Ah." He nodded and held out a hand. "Michael Chapman."

"Yes, I know." His grip was firm, warm, and slightly rough. He held her hand a moment longer than was called for, and she pulled away, taking an involuntary step backward and crossing her arms.

One corner of his mouth lifted at the movement. "Small town—word travels fast, I imagine." He waited.

"Oh, sorry." She introduced herself.

"Kaz." He cocked his head. "Unusual name."

"It's short for Kasmira, a family name—my grandmother's," she explained, then gestured vaguely toward the center of the room. "Well. I should be getting back—"

"I'm not keen on women getting shoved around in bar fights. In the future, you'd be wise to be more careful."

She curbed her impatience. He was new; she probably should cut him some slack. "Gary and Chuck can disagree on something as minor as whether the Cubs have a chance to win this year's pennant race," she explained. "They're friends . It wouldn't have gotten out of hand."

"Obviously you didn't think so, or you wouldn't have raced over to break it up."

Her irritation notched a peg or two higher, her voice chilling. "This is a small town, Mr. Chapman. You'll find folks around here won't appreciate you butting into their business."

A flicker of something, possibly humor, came and went in his eyes so quickly she might have imagined it. "Folks rarely appreciate my butting in, as you put it, no matter where they live," he replied, his tone dry as dust. "Ma'am."

She watched him walk back to his booth, annoyed that she'd let him push her buttons. Protective males made her crazy, and Astoria had an overabundance of them. There had to be something in the water—this guy had been indoctrinated in less than a week.

"Well?" Lucy asked when she returned.

"Not a clue."

"What did Chapman want?"

Kaz jerked her shoulders, still unsettled by him. She was good at handling aggressive men—it'd been part of her job description for the last ten years. But Chapman had gotten her defenses up in less than thirty seconds.

She noticed Lucy was scanning the room, her "cop" expression on. "What?"

Lucy hesitated, then shook her head. "You'd better have that talk with Gary, and soon," she said, referring to the discussion they'd had when she'd called Kaz early one morning a month ago and suggested she come home on extended leave from her consulting gig in San Francisco.

Hearing the uncharacteristic worry in her friend's voice, Kaz hadn't even hesitated. She'd packed her laptop, told her business partner she'd handle whatever she could from Astoria, then booked the first flight to Portland. Once home, she'd made excuses to a disgruntled Gary about how she could use the break from her high-stress job, about how she figured she could use the downtime to help him get the family fishing business back on its feet. About how getting back out on the water would be good for her.

He hadn't bought her last argument any more than she had. She'd known coming home would cause old memories to resurface, keeping her awake late into the night. But she'd deal with them—she didn't have a choice. And though she hadn't been able to ferret out yet what was bothering Gary, she was working on it.

"I don't want Sykes back on his case," Lucy said, bringing Kaz out of her thoughts. Jim Sykes, the chief of police and Lucy's direct superior, had never been able to stand Gary, even when they were kids growing up. "And I really don't want to be the one to haul your brother in on another assault charge on the chief's orders."

Kaz frowned. "Come on. That's stretching it, don't you think?"

"Two fights in one night? I don't think so. And you know this gives Sykes the excuse he needs to yank Gary off his parole."

"Whoa. Earth to Luce. Two fights?"

The light dawned. "Right—you weren't here yet, were you? Gary and Ken got into it earlier." Lucy paused. "Now that I think about it, it was the same kind of thing—a serious row that looked like something I might have to break up. But Ken split before it could go anywhere."

Kaz rubbed at an aching muscle in the back of her neck, the uneasiness she'd been feeling off and on returning full force. Ken was usually already home with Julie and the kids by the time she made port, so she didn't see him all that much. Particularly now that his son was so sick.

But he and Gary had always been tight, ever since they'd served together in Iraq. They had a lot of shared history—both from the war and from being out on the water together. Their friendship had had its share of rough patches, but their disagreements had always been short-lived. Gary had always stuck by Ken, no matter what. In fact, both she and Lucy suspected that it had been Gary's loyalty to Ken that had landed him in jail six months back. Which made the fight Lucy was talking about incomprehensible. Kaz sighed. Just like the rest of Gary's behavior lately.

Lucy was waiting for an explanation, and Kaz dearly wished she had one. "Gary's been having nightmares—at least, I think he has," she admitted. "I can hear him pacing in the living room at night."

"Nightmares about what? The war?"

Kaz shook her head. "I don't know. He's hard to read under the best of circumstances. But still, bar-fighting has never been his style."

"Yeah, well, could've fooled me." Lucy's expression was grim. "And Sykes was here earlier—he saw what went down with Ken."

That wasn't good news. If Sykes thought Gary was a danger to the community, he wouldn't hesitate to throw him back in a cell.

Kaz mentally reviewed what Gary had said to Chuck and Steve at the bar. Or not said, to be more accurate. She gnawed on her lip. "Look, you know those guys'll argue about just about anything…" Her voice trailed away as she took in Lucy's stubborn expression. "Okay, okay. If it'll make you happy, I'll go hunt Gary up and ask him some extremely pointed questions."

Lucy looked relieved, far more than Kaz would've thought was warranted. Which made her even twitchier. "Of course," she added, trying to inject a lighter note, "I'll have to take a rain check on the pool game."

"Yeah." Lucy sighed. "I should get back to the station anyway."

Kaz glanced around the room, schooling her expression so that she didn't show the worry that was gnawing at her gut. None of the fishermen would make eye contact with her. And now that she thought about it, they'd been unusually silent out on the water earlier that afternoon. The typical radio chatter had been missing—along with the camaraderie. "Hmmm?" She realized Lucy had been talking to her.