Although he didn’t have a woman like Gabe’s, he had a job he loved. One where he was needed and could make a difference.
Worked for him.
Chapter Two
It’s not whether you get knocked down; it’s whether you get up. ~ Vince Lombardi
* * *
In the Weiler, Nevada police station, Officer Jayden Jenner leaned against her locker and sighed. Damn, she hurt. Her gut and her shoulder throbbed painfully. A woman’s juiced-up boyfriend had managed to get a couple of punches in. Dammit. Her stupid Taser hadn’t worked on him. The darts had hit him but sure hadn’t incapacitated him. Too drugged probably. Her stun gun had been effective—eventually—and she’d gotten the guy subdued and cuffed. The girlfriend and little boy were on the way to relatives. If JJ hurt a little, well, knowing the innocents were safe was worth it.
Her spirits were hurting worse than her body right now. When she’d realized how dangerous the guy was and called for help, no backup had arrived. That said a lot about her future here in Weiler.
It was time to make a decision.
After unloading her gear and duty belt into her locker, she felt immensely lighter, at least physically. She’d feel even better once she had a shower. Her own stink of fear was drowning out the sweaty stench of the locker room.
As she pulled on a loose over-shirt to hide her uniform, the flower she’d been gifted that morning fell out of her hair. It was surprising it’d stayed in during the fight. Smiling, she picked it up and tucked it into her pocket. Best reward ever for rescuing a child’s escaped bunny.
The day hadn’t been all bad.
Earlier, a woman’s neighbors reported they hadn’t seen her for a couple of days. JJ dreaded those types of calls where breaking in was usually followed by discovering a corpse. But this time, she’d found an elderly woman who was dehydrated and half-conscious, but alive. Joy swept through JJ because the hospital had reported the woman would be all right.
Like her father before her, JJ lived for those moments. There was a joy to serving. To knowing she’d made a difference in someone’s life. To being part of the heartbeat of a community.
Her father had been beloved by the citizens where he patrolled.
He’d also been a vital member of the police brotherhood. Unfortunately, the important word there seemed to be “brotherhood”. Females need not apply. As a rookie, with Gene as her training officer, she’d thought she was starting to belong. She’d been included in the social activities—the barbecues, the after-work drinks, football afternoons—and loved being part of the police fraternity.
Then it’d all gone to hell. Now her bad days outweighed the good, not because of her duties as a patrol officer. Weiler was a good place. Good people. No, her problems came from the police community.
Hearing the door to the locker room open, she tensed. After closing up her locker, she paused as two officers entered. Tall, desiccated-appearing, and bitter, Chapman had worked in the precinct a few years. Greene was newer. At one time, she’d thought they were comrades-in-arms. She’d been mistaken.
The two men ignored her, crossing behind her. At least they weren’t coming on to her like too many of the others.
But she’d expected—deserved—more from fellow officers. Anger still burned inside her. And hurt. “I called for backup,” she said in a tight voice. “Got no one.”
Greene flushed slightly and kept going to his locker.
Sneering, Chapman shifted closer. “We were on break.”
“Yeah. Apparently, everyone was on break.” Why had she even tried? She picked up her keys.
“Hey, I’m off now. Wanna go get a beer?” Chapman made a kissy noise. “Have some fun afterward?”
Asshole. Even as an ugly feeling settled in the pit of her stomach, she gave him a scathing stare and tried to walk past.
He stepped into her. His bony shoulder hit hers and sent her stumbling sideways. Her hands closed into fists, but fighting would win her only a momentary satisfaction and would only net her a reprimand. Been there, done that. Instead, she edged away, almost tripped on a bench, and caught herself on the wall.
As footsteps sounded on the stairs, she looked up to see her ex-boyfriend Nash at the top.
Big, buff, and blond. Like a poster-boy for the ideal cop. She’d fallen for his gorgeous appearance only to discover it concealed an arrogant, selfish boy.
The smirk on his face told her he’d seen what his fellow officer had done. His expression dared her to complain.
Like that had ever worked for her before.
Not.
Anger tightened her muscles, her face. Her 5’4” to his 6-foot height meant she had to look up at him. Didn’t that just bite? She kept her voice cold and polite. “Lieutenant Barlow.”
“Officer Jenner.” His gloating smile scraped her nerves. When she’d broken up with him, she’d foreseen some awkward moments. Instead, he’d gone after her with a maliciousness she’d never have anticipated. He wanted her destroyed, emotionally and professionally.
He took a step toward her. “I think you have—”
Before he could say anything nasty, she strode past him and out of the police station. As she crossed the parking lot, the dry mid-September wind whipped her loose hair around her face and tugged at her clothes. If only the wind could blow away her frustration, her anger…her sense that she was trapped.
“JJ! Hold up.” The call came from behind her.
Turning, she forced a smile. Taking her frustration out on her old training officer would be wrong. God, she missed him. “Hey, Gene. What’re you doing here?”
“Came to see you.” He scowled at her. His gray hair was cut to an even quarter-inch length; his eyes were a bitter brown. On first sight four years ago, she’d figured him for a sexist jerk, but he’d given her a fair shake and ended up a friend. “Buy you a cup of coffee?”
All she wanted was to go home. But…his health had been bad. Heart going wonky. Maybe he needed help with something. “Sure. That’d be good.”
The coffee shop was conveniently close to the station. They bought their coffee and settled at a corner table.
“So, what’s up?” she asked, tensing for bad news. He was divorced and lived alone, although his three children lived close. Still, she worried.
He eyed her. “I heard you punched Hanson. Heard about the shit spray-painted on your locker, too. Those connected?”
“Oh. No, not connected. Just part of the general campaign to drive me out.” Three times in the last month, her locker had been graffitied. That wasn’t so bad. However, both physical shit and the lack of support could get dangerous fast. Like today where she’d gotten no backup, she could’ve been seriously injured. Would anyone have even come to look for her? “I punched Hanson for grabbing me. I’d’ve hauled him in for sexual assault, only…what would be the point? Any complaint from me would land in a wastebasket.”
His rasping, exasperated grunt sounded like a garbage truck flattening cans. “Place has gone to hell since Barlow took over as Chief.”
Her ex’s uncle had been appointed Chief of Police about three years before, and he promoted his son—Nash’s cousin—to captain. Then, Nash had been made Lieutenant right after she dumped him.
The Barlows had manipulation and charm down to a science. Their police skills were barely adequate. Their ethics? They had none.
Nash was doing his best to shred her reputation and drive her out of law enforcement. Since the Barlows and their buddies ran the station, her complaints went nowhere. She’d considered a sexual harassment suit, but lawyers cost money. And no other department in the country would be willing to hire her afterward.
Gene’s concerned gaze met hers. “You need to get out of here, JJ. You know that, right?”
“I know. Unfortunately, the Barlow clan has let me know they won’t give me a good reference. Ever.”
His face hardened. “Bastards.”
Yeah. They were. She stirred her coffee rather than fli
nging it across the room in frustration.
“I had an idea. Something that might work for you. Have you ever considered Alaska?”
“Alaska? Are you crazy?” She glanced out the window toward the foothills, the brown desert landscape. “It snows there, Gene.”
“Yeah? Seems I heard that somewhere.” He grinned for a second. “Just listen, girl. Got a couple of old ’Nam buddies, Mako and Dante, who ended up in Alaska. Mako’s gone now, but Dante says Mako’s son is the Chief of Police in Rescue, Alaska. My recommendation would carry more weight with him than all the Barlows’ crap.”
Alaska. Snow. Isolation. “Where’s Rescue, Alaska?”
“Kenai Peninsula, close to Kenai Lake. Couple hours from Anchorage. It’s a tiny town at the base of a fancy new ski resort, which means the place is growing, once again.”
“A tiny town has a police department? Doesn’t Alaska use state troopers for everything?” She’d seen that show on television.
“The place used to be bigger. Got incorporated, then the old resort went belly-up, and the town almost died. It’s coming back now. With the state’s budget cuts, the nearest trooper post is farther away than is comfortable. So the town council hired Gabe, and he’s looking for an officer.”
“It would be a two person department. The Chief—and me?” Her gut tightened. “What if he turns out to be an asshole? If the town’s that small, I’d be screwed.”
“You got a right to be cautious. But I’m damn sure Gabe’s different.”
She gave him a skeptical look.
He shook his head. “True, I only met him once—at Mako’s funeral last year. But I knew Mako damn well. Back in the service, when a private groped an army nurse, Mako yelled at the idiot for a good five minutes. Dissected his manners, his appearance, his intelligence, and went on to ream out his ancestors as well. I doubt anyone the First Sergeant raised would be less than courteous to a woman. And I’ve talked to Gabe since. He’s solid.”
So. Maybe the guy would be all right.
Still, the job was being a patrol officer in a tiny town in the back of nowhere. Weiler was a small city. She knew her way around cities. Being a LEO in Alaska would be like working in a foreign country.
No, she couldn’t. Just couldn’t.
Trying to think of a way to turn Gene down politely, she picked up her coffee—and her bruised shoulder ached. No one had backed her up, so she’d been hurt. This time, it’d only been a shoulder. What about next time? Her throat tightened, and she set her cup down.
Dammit.
So, these were her choices: Go work in a strange wilderness, or stay here where her fellow officers would leave her out to hang, not caring if she was hurt or worse.
Really, what did she have to keep her here?
Not friends. Her social life had revolved around the force, which meant it was now kaput. Aside from Gene, she used to have three friends, fellow female officers, who’d taken jobs elsewhere. When Barlow had been made chief, they’d seen the writing on the wall and gotten out.
She was lonely. And rather than the previous comradery in the station, these days, she felt more like a cornered animal at times.
There was nothing to lose by leaving. If the job in Alaska didn’t work out, she could always go serve fries in Anchorage.
Giving her time to think, Gene had been silent. Finished with his coffee, he set the cup down gently. “Rescue’s very small. But I know what matters to you. There, you’d have a chance to get to know the people and be part of the community. You’d actually know who you were serving.”
The words struck home like a low-toned bell. “All right, yes. Please, make the call.”
Chapter Three
When you are a strong woman, you will attract trouble. When a man feels threatened, there is always trouble. ~ Barbara Taylor Bradford
* * *
Almost a week later, JJ dragged herself and her suitcase into her hotel room. Welcome to Alaska, woman.
Why hadn’t she realized the state was so damn far away? She’d spent the entire day traveling. Driving to Las Vegas, flying to Seattle, then to Anchorage had taken forever, because all the good flights had already been booked. After picking up her rental car, she’d driven another two-plus hours to the ski resort high above Rescue.
She’d been lucky to get a reservation, the desk clerk had told her before adding that the restaurant had already closed for the night. Dammit.
After the fastest shower known to man, she brushed her teeth, combed her hair, changed into clean clothes, and headed down to the bar—the only place she’d be able to get food. And since the bar would close in an hour, she needed to move. Apparently, Alaskan resorts didn’t stay open late, especially on Sundays.
Walking into the lobby, she smiled at the desk clerk she’d met and nodded to the other two women behind the front desk.
The bar was on the other side of the lobby—a pleasant place with huge windows, giving a view of the last trace of twilight. She’d been able to complete her drive in daylight, thankfully. This far north, sunset was over an hour later here than at home.
And, oh, man, having daylight for the drive had been totally worth it. The scenery was jaw-dropping. Huge rugged mountains. Forests everywhere. Tiny remote towns. She’d had to keep stopping to take pictures.
Once in the bar, she stopped to look around. Exposed beams in a high ceiling, glossy dark wood flooring, square cranberry-red chairs at small tables. A loveseat and two high wingback chairs faced the chunky rock fireplace. That’s where she’d go once she got some food.
The place wasn’t busy. A group of men at a table. A few more here and there. Two couples at different tables. The bar had a man at one end and three women at the other. The women had dressed in city style—red dress, sequined black dress, slinky cocktail pants.
JJ might look out of place in her jeans and boots, but she wasn’t going to sit at a table and wait for a server. The kitchen might close early. She settled at the small bar a few stools down from the women.
The bartender, an older brunette, looked up from the drink she was fixing to smile. “I’ll be with you as soon as I get these drinks.”
JJ smiled back and picked up the bar menu. Her stomach rumbled an urgent demand.
The women next to her were deciding on drinks. Having a good time.
Listening to them teasing each other, JJ had a flash of envy for their companionship.
“I’ll have a Texas iced tea,” the one named Kiki finally decided.
Huh. That sounded good. Mom, being from the south, had always kept iced tea in the fridge, and JJ rather missed it.
As the bartender mixed their drinks, the women chatted about striking out with a guy—someone who sounded like quite a man-ho. From Anchorage, the women enjoyed occasional weekends at the resort. The guy had spent a night with each of them at different times.
Tonight, Kiki had offered to buy the man a drink in hopes of another hookup. “He looked at me with those eyes—you know those dark eyes of his?”
“Oh, do I,” the one in cocktail pants said.
The third—red dress—laughed and fanned herself.
“And Cazador says, ‘Kimberly’.” Kiki moaned. “Mmm, I love the way he says my name with that accent. But…”
“But what?” the one in the red dress asked.
“He says, ‘Keem-bear-ly, I told you, did I not, that we would enjoy one night together and one night only?’” Kiki heaved a big sigh. “I wanted a lot more nights, for God’s sake. I’ve never gotten off so hard in my life.”
“Ma’am?” In front of JJ, the bartender was waiting for her order.
JJ grinned ruefully and dropped her voice. “Sorry. I was totally eavesdropping.”
The bartender laughed, her voice equally low. “Cazador is worth hunting, but they’re out of luck. He really holds to his one-night rule.”
Worth hunting. No man was, especially a man-ho. Food, now. Food was totally worth hunting. JJ smiled and checked the menu again.
“You’re interested in ordering some food?”
“More than anything in the world. If it’s still possible, I’d love a double order of the chicken strips.” The bland food wouldn’t unsettle her stomach. She had an interview tomorrow. Oh God. “And a Texas iced tea, too, please.”
“Coming right up.”
JJ tuned out the women talking as squirrelly worries overcame her. The drive here had been amazing, yet had shown her how out of place she was. Forests with tangles of brush, everything so green. The mountains had taken her breath away. In more than one spot, she’d whizzed past a handful of stores and a gas station before realizing it was a town.
She hadn’t been able to get an extra day off. What with the last-minute reservations, she’d taken a day to get here. She had tomorrow for the interview and looking around and would fly back to Nevada late tomorrow night on the red eye.
She’d simply have to scope out the place as best she could.
And maybe she’d be offered the job. Maybe.
* * *
In front of the resort lounge’s fireplace, Cazador rolled his glass of beer between his palms. From the room behind him came the low hum of various conversations. As he watched the flames, his irritation slowly faded. At least the carpet had muted the sound of Giselle’s stomping exit as the curvy blonde returned to the front desk. Damn woman. She thought if she kept trying—flirting and touching—that he’d change his mind and take her to bed.
The first few times, he’d politely explained he didn’t “date” local women. Then he’d bluntly refused. Then he’d been rude. She only grew more determined.
He sighed and tipped his head back, listening to the cheerful crackle of the fire. A tinkling—forced—laugh sounded from one of the Anchorage women. Kimberly. At least she had taken a refusal politely. He’d enjoyed his night with her. Had enjoyed her friends on other nights. If he thought about it, he’d remember the other two names. He was good with names.
Good with women.
Lethal Balance: Sons of the Survivalist: 2 Page 3
