by Skye Jordan
Ian pushed out the doors. The frozen air hit him like a brick. He drew a slow, tight lungful of ice as he paused behind Savannah.
“They’re all goin’ in your file,” the deputy continued without bothering to glance at Ian. “Wouldn’t look good to have all these random violations piling up. Might make you look…unstable.”
“I hope you’re not calling that”—Ian glanced at Savannah’s ancient Subaru where it now sat dead center in front of an iced-over fire hydrant—“a violation, because I just watched you push that car thirty feet forward with the bumper of your cruiser.”
All eyes turned on Ian, and silence thickened the air. Savannah made a quarter turn toward him, her expression clearly confused to have someone in her corner. “You…you shouldn’t get involved in this. It’s not—”
“This isn’t any of your business.” Corwin—according to his nameplate—pointed at the café. “Just head on back inside and finish your breakfast.”
“I’m a witness to an abuse of power by law enforcement,” Ian told him. “That makes it my business.”
“Too many tickets and your car will be impounded, Savannah,” Corwin continued, undeterred by Ian’s presence. “Now how are you going to take care of a little boy without a car in this freezing weather?”
“That’s not going to be a problem,” Ian said, “because there’s no reason for a ticket here.”
Corwin flicked a look at Ian, dismissing him instantly. “Who’s this, Savannah? You got yourself a boyfriend? Before your divorce is even final? While you’ve got a young boy at home lookin’ to you as a role model? How is that going to look to a judge? You really don’t think ahead much, do you?”
Ian opened his mouth to answer for her, when something bumped the back of his legs.
“Mom?” Jamison’s worried voice touched Ian’s ears before his gaze settled on the boy, half hiding behind him. His breath billowed in the air while his eyes, darkened by dilated pupils, darted around the group.
“Jamison,” Misty called from the landing. “Come back in here. It’s freezing.”
“Honey,” Savannah said, “Go back inside. I’ll be right there.”
“Why don’t you all go in?” Corwin suggested.
Jamison’s face crunched in a belligerent frown even as his hand fisted in Ian’s jeans at the knee. “No. I’m not leaving my mom.”
“Come on now, buddy, don’t use that tone with a police officer,” Corwin said. “I’m not the enemy. You brought me cookies just the other night, remember?”
“You weren’t mean then.”
“You weren’t mean then, either.” Jamison turned his head away and pressed his face to Ian’s jeaned thigh. Something pulled deep inside Ian. He needed to end this.
He pulled out his phone and stepped around Savannah and Corwin to snap photos of the cruiser’s bumper against Savannah’s. Of Corwin, his nameplate, and his badge number.
“What in the hell do you think you’re doin’?” Corwin barked.
As he moved, Jamison moved, keeping Ian between himself and Corwin. The fact that the boy was afraid of a deputy who worked with his father, a man who, by all accounts, should have been a member of Jamison’s second family, gnawed at Ian.
“Jamison, go back—” Savannah started, turning toward them.
“Put that away,” Corwin ordered.
Ian stuffed it into his back pocket again. “It’s gone, it’s gone,” he placated, lifting one hand in surrender and dropping the other to Jamison’s head to reassure him. “But you should know I already grabbed a video of you pushing her car in front of the hydrant. As a concerned citizen, I feel it’s my duty to enlighten the public to random acts of police harassment. I don’t think you’d want this story reaching media outlets.” He grimaced, sucking air through his teeth. “That wouldn’t be good for you. Not good at all.”
“You piece of—” Corwin made a swipe for Ian, but he was slow, and Ian easily stepped out of reach.
“Actually, I think you might be the one looking like…” He glanced at Jamison. “Well, you know. To the public. To your boss. Tell you what, let’s all walk away and call it good. What do you say?”
Corwin glared at Ian. “I say you’d better watch your back, boy. You’ve just used up your one free pass as a new mucker.” He made a slow turn on his heel, his gaze on Savannah over his shoulder. “Behave, girl. I’m watchin’ you.”
“Same, Don,” Savannah shot back. “Same.”
Corwin sneered as he dropped into the driver’s seat. As soon as the cop retreated to his car, Jamison abandoned the safety of Ian’s legs and ran to Savannah.
She dropped into a crouch in front of her son. “I told you to stay inside for a reason.” She tugged on one of his earlobes. “Do I need to check your ears for wax?”
Jamison smiled and squirmed from her touch. “No.”
She turned him by the shoulders and gave his butt a soft swat. “Inside, now.”
The boy whisked by Ian and reentered the café. Corwin pulled his cruiser away from the curb, and Ian watched all the tension and fear drain out of Savannah. Her face perked up with color. Her shoulders lowered. Her posture softened. And she released a deep sigh.
Savannah crossed her arms and looked up at Ian, hesitant with her words. “Thank you. It was nice of you to intervene, but these guys don’t play by the rules.” She pulled her phone from the pocket of the half apron around her waist. Her screen lit up with a recording symbol. She tapped the stop button and smirked up at him. “You didn’t get a video of them pushing my car, did you?”
“What makes you think that?”
“I didn’t see your phone out at breakfast.”
He grinned, shrugged.
The bell on the café’s door tinkled again, and Jamison ran back out. He offered the picture he’d been drawing to Ian. “It’s for you.”
A pang hit him dead center in the chest. Ah, shit.
With a sigh, he accepted the picture, playing down his interest. “Well, thanks.”
Then the kid was gone again, disappearing into the café with a new bounce in his step. Ian told Savannah, “He looks like he’s feeling better.”
She stared after the boy, eyes narrowed. “I was just thinking the same thing.” She started toward the café. “Come back in. You’ve got to be freezing.”
“I have to get going.” He rolled the picture into a tube.
At the doors, she turned. “What about your jacket?”
He grinned. “You’re wearing it.”
A second of confusion clouded her eyes before she looked down. “Oh… Oh, jeez. I’m sorry.” She shucked the parka as if it had lice. “I burned your hand and stole your jacket. I think I owe you a tip today.”
“No problem.” He took the parka. “You warmed it up for me.”
She offered his jacket along with one of those sunshine-and-blue-skies smiles. “I hope your day gets better.”
“Yours too.”
“If I see Tim—Mr. Baulder—I’ll let him know you were here.”
“Thanks.”
Ian shrugged into his jacket and started down the street. Smiling. He was smiling. And there was no reason in the world for him to be smiling. But Savannah’s heat sank into his body. And her rose-petal scent lifted to his nose.
He was feeling lighter than he had in a long time when he spotted Everly standing at the corner, leaning against the building.
Ian slowed and glanced over his shoulder to make sure Savannah was gone before he stopped to talk. He and Everly hadn’t been on the same Manhunters team while employed by the government, but like any special forces unit, they partnered with other teams for a large-scale mission. Their teams had worked together often enough for him to know he could trust her with his life.
“Did you find Rosen?” he asked. “Is he part of this mile-thick blue wall?”
“I found him. And, surprisingly, he’s not, but he is squirrely.”
Joe Rosen was the deputy with the Hazard County Sheriff’s Depart
ment. According to the mission file, Rosen’s disgruntled attitude over his boss made him the perfect source inside the department. He and Mason had become friends, hanging at a local bar after work. Now Rosen’s friend, one who’d been pushing dark boundaries in town, was dead.
“Understandable,” Ian said. “Is he willing to help us?”
She turned toward her Jeep, parked on the other side of the street and still running. “I’ll tell you out of the cold. Get in.”
Inside, Everly shivered, pulled off her gloves and put her hands in front of the vents. “I think I’m going to need a couple of weeks in Bora Bora to thaw out after this.”
“That’ll go over well with Roman,” Ian said. “Who did you tell Rosen you were?”
“Investigator from the DOJ, following up on Mason’s death.” She reached across the console, opened the glove box, and pulled out a file folder. Then tapped into her phone, placed a call, and put it on speaker, looping Roman and Sam in on the conversation.
“Is Heller with you?” Roman answered.
“Here,” Ian said. “Boss, can you have Sam double down on my background cover?”
“I’m here.” Sam’s voice came over the line. “Considering our military counterpart already scrubbed all their operators’ files, you look like exactly what you’re claiming to be, a retired army rat.”
“I just met Bishop,” Ian said, “and he’s going to dig into it.”
“I guarantee he won’t find anything,” Sam assured.
“Rosen confirmed Mason’s assessment that the Bishops are dirty,” Everly said, “though he doesn’t have any hard evidence of that. Just his own observations.”
“The slippery ones rarely leave a trail,” Ian said. “And which Bishop?”
“Hank and Lyle. Rosen says Savannah’s caught in an impossible situation.”
“Impossible how?” Sam asked.
“No family or means to speak of,” Everly said. “He paints her as a devoted mother stuck in this frozen town with a vengeful shit for an ex. An ex with all the power, money, and control in their relationship. Seems like most of this town is in the same situation. The Bishop mines touch everyone here—they either work for the mine, have a loved one who works for the mine, or depend on the employees of the mine for business. Rosen’s wife grew up here, and they moved from Utah two years ago to take care of his sick mother-in-law. He hates it here. Hates Bishop, hates the culture of fear and manipulation inside the department, but they don’t have the resources to move again. The medical bills are sucking them dry. And Rosen says if Bishop finds out he’s talking, losing his job would be a best-case scenario.”
“Murder being the worst?” Ian asked.
“Affirmative. He’s sure Hank killed Mason, but he doesn’t have any proof.”
“If he killed Mason, Bishop must be in on the counterfeiting.”
“Mason could have been involved with Savannah,” Everly speculated. “Bishop’s the kind of guy who wouldn’t take that well.”
Ian’s mind bent that direction. “If they were involved, Savannah couldn’t have been that invested. She’s more scared than sad over the topic, and she’s not showing any signs of grief, even home alone.”
“Sam told me we haven’t gotten anything good from the bugs.” Everly offered the folder she’d pulled from the glove box to Ian. “Rosen gave me the autopsy report.”
“Any forensic evidence?” he asked.
“The coroner classified it as an accident,” Everly said, “so no in-depth forensics were done.”
“Not exactly a surprise,” Ian said, skimming a read of the autopsy. “Coroners in the backwoods are notoriously inexperienced.”
“And this one undoubtedly falls under the Bishop power structure,” Everly said.
Ian searched his mind for a crack in the Bishops’ perfect wall. One they could chip away at until the barrier crumbled and all the dirty secrets spilled out. “Can we get Mason’s body? Do another autopsy? Look for Hank’s DNA?”
“Already on it,” Roman said. “What does Rosen say about the passports?”
“He hasn’t heard anything about passports, but that makes sense. Bishop wouldn’t tell his men about the scheme. He wouldn’t risk having a higher authority come into his territory.”
Ian shook his head. “They’ve got every damn angle covered.”
“I think Rosen and Savannah are the chinks in that chain,” Everly said. “They’re scared of him, they’re strong, and they want out.”
“We don’t know where Savannah stands yet,” Ian said. “There are custody issues to consider. As long as she’s stuck here, she won’t turn on her ex for the same reason no one else will.”
“I disagree,” Everly said. “She doesn’t let the cops walk all over her. She’s already practicing her escape. We’ve got to get our hooks into her before she disappears. Sooner rather than later. Rosen says Savannah’s detail is twenty-four seven unless she’s at work. They get her schedule every week and rotate the duty during her off hours through the deputies, though Rosen says Corwin’s bad attitude has earned him more surveillance time than others. They actually fill out a report, chronicling Savannah’s movements while they were on duty. According to Rosen, they embellish her activities as well, and everything goes into a file created for the sole purpose of gaining control over her. And get this,” Everly added. “She can’t cross the county line.”
He cut a look at Everly. “What do you mean?”
“All deputies have strict orders to stop her at the county line and turn her around. By force if necessary.”
“What the fuck?” he asked, more a revelation than a question. “Are we still in America?”
“Sounds like she’s either got something on him that he wants to keep in-house,” Roman said. “Or he’s afraid she’ll run with the kid.”
“Or, of course,” Everly added, “he’s a psychopathic, controlling bastard who enjoys making his ex-wife’s life miserable.”
Ian thought back over his confrontation with Corwin. Of Savannah’s and Jamison’s reactions to Hank in the café. Imagined how trapped she would feel, knowing she couldn’t get out, no matter how willing she was to deal with her financial limitations. And if she knew or suspected Hank killed Mason, she had to wonder if he would do the same to her.
“That’s fucked up.” Ian let his gaze blur over the snow-covered street ahead as his mind wound back around to the reason they were here.
“Did you find Baulder yet?” Roman asked.
Ian closed the folder. “No.” He looked at Everly. “But it’s a good time for Everly to hit the café and put in her application. Morning rush is over, and the owner’s in the back, baking.”
“Put that on hold,” Roman said. “You two come to the office. Sam’s pulled up some good intel. Let’s put our heads together.”
“Roger that,” Everly said, then disconnected and glanced at Ian. “By the way, you were the perfect white knight for Savannah.”
Ian huffed. “All I did was stop a public fight in front of her son.”
“There were sparks between you two.”
“Bullshit.” He glared out the windshield. “I’m starting to think this whole idea—me working with this team—is bullshit.”
“You think this is bad? Try security for a Silicon Valley high-rise or bodyguard duty to an entitled hip-hop mogul.”
Ian groaned.
“Perspective, my friend. Perspective,” Everly reminded him. “This may not be like the blood-pumping missions we had overseas, but there are other benefits, like higher pay and time to take a real vacation or cultivate a relationship. And not all our jobs are as tame as rooting out a shadowy counterfeit underground. We get our share of action. This is your first mission. Give it a chance.”
“You must get some kind of kickback if I commit.”
Everly’s fist landed right in the middle of his gut.
Ian grunted a laugh. “I see your sense of humor’s intact.”
“Maybe I think you deserve
a life with more in it than mind-numbing, meaningless days spent as a rent-a-cop. Savannah’s cute. I’ll admit, you both suck at flirting, but she was trying her rusty best.”
Ian scowled at Everly. “Shut up.”
“And the kid… You still have the touch, Piper.”
“Don’t even,” Ian pushed the car door open. “I’ll meet you at the office.”
Savannah’s hand shook as she set down a teacup in front of Audrey. She slid into the seat across the booth and opened the wooden box filled with over a dozen different types of teas. “I wasn’t sure what you’d be in the mood for today.”
“Something with whiskey,” Audrey clipped as she pulled an orange-spiced tea bag from the box. “Maybe I’ll get a room for the night and hit Judd’s Saloon later.”
Judd’s was a favorite hangout for the miners—right up there with Sugar Daddy’s, a brothel in the middle of nowhere smack between Whitefish and Hazard. Savannah hated Judd’s, but… “If Misty can watch Jamison tonight, drinks are on me.”
The way Audrey’s mouth tipped into a stiff smile made the nerves in Savannah’s belly buzz. The other woman settled the tea bag into the water while she twirled a strand of her honey-brown hair around her finger. She was measuring her words, Savannah knew.
She glanced toward Jamison, sitting at a table in the corner. He was playing a game on Savannah’s cell, completely absorbed, his tongue barely sticking out the side of his mouth. Love and fear mingled.
She refocused on Audrey. Her attorney had told her the deputies had met and detained her at the county line, as Savannah had feared. “How’d you get through?”
Audrey closed the lid on the metal teapot. “I installed a dash cam and told them that if they didn’t let me through, the encounter would be all over the internet within an hour.”
Savannah relived that morning’s confrontation with the deputies and how Ian had also used video—or at least the threat of it—to limit their manipulation. “I think I need to wear a video camera around my neck twenty-four seven.” She rested her head in her hand. “I hope those nerves in your eyes are just from the drive and those idiots at the county line.”
