Free Deadly Harvest by Heather Graham

turned and started for the exit. He followed her. He could see by the set of her shoulders that she was angry.
    So was he. For God’s sake, after what had happened, she should be thinking about what she was doing. “I was worried,” he said curtly.
    â€œWell, this is my home turf. You don’t need to be worried.” She stopped so short that he almost plowed into her back.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThere’s Joe,” she said.
    â€œYour friend, the detective Joe?”
    She nodded. The white-haired man in a plain leather jacket was strolling along the street as if he hadn’t a care in the world. But he had seen Rowenna, and a smile lit his lips—until he saw Jeremy standing behind her. The smile remained, but it had tightened, as if he was trying not to let it turn into a scowl.
    â€œJoe!” Rowenna called, hurrying out the gate.
    â€œRo!” The man came forward, capturing her in a giant bear hug. Rowenna was five-ten, but the man seemed to dwarf her. Jeremy found himself standing a little straighter as he waited for an introduction.
    â€œWelcome home, Ro. No, wait, it’s welcome home ‘your majesty,’ isn’t it?” he teased. He looked at Jeremy then, not trying to hide the fact that he was assessing him carefully.
    â€œYou’re the private detective, huh?” Joe Brentwood said, keeping Rowenna at his side and taking a step forward.
    â€œI’m a private investigator, yes,” Jeremy said, offering his hand. “Jeremy Flynn. You’re Detective Joe Brentwood. Glad to meet you.”
    â€œSo Johnstone is an old friend of yours,” Brentwood said, automatically offering his hand in return.
    â€œFriend, and former partner. I used to be a police diver,” Jeremy said.
    â€œHe’s a loose cannon right now,” Brentwood told him.
    â€œI’m meeting him tonight at seven. I’ll see what I can do.”
    â€œWell, Ro and I have a little catching up to do,” Brentwood said. “In fact—” he turned to look at her consideringly “—I thought I would have seen her earlier.”
    â€œMy fault,” Jeremy said, stretching the truth. “I asked her to show me the cemetery first, and time just got away from us.”
    Jeremy wondered what it was about the human race. He and Joe were just standing there talking politely, but both of them were tense and rigid. They were like a pair of roosters sparring for the attention of a hen. The older man was her friend. He was her lover. All right, so far he was a one-night stand, but he didn’t intend for things to stay that way. His instincts had been right, though. If he’d just stayed away from her, he wouldn’t be feeling now as if he had to fight for her in the midst of a modern world where she was free to make her own decisions—even decide against him, if she wanted to.
    Rowenna seemed to sense both men’s agitation. Who knew? Jeremy thought. Maybe they actually looked like a pair of puffed-up roosters.
    â€œWhy don’t we all go have a drink together first?” she suggested.
    â€œThat would be great,” Jeremy said casually, staring at Joe Brentwood.
    First round to him for appearing to be friendly and cooperative.
    â€œRed’s is right across the street. It’s a bar and grill, and I’m famished,” Joe said. There was a note of reproach in his voice, as if to say he and Rowenna should have been having dinner alone.
    â€œSounds fine to me,” Jeremy said.
    They settled at Red’s, where a waitress brought a round of drafts while Rowenna and Joe pored over the menu. Jeremy, who was waiting to eat until he met with Brad, leaned forward. “You say that Brad’s a loose cannon?” he asked.
    Joe let out a long sigh, shaking his head. “The kid’s in bad shape.” He looked at Jeremy and shrugged. “It’s probably a good thing you’re here. He needs someone. His