HeroRevealed

by Anna Alexander

  And the jerkwad knew that. He was exactly aware of the types of sacrifices required when such a vow was made, yet he forbade, actually forbade her to continue her life’s work because he said so. Why? Because she was a woman? Because he thought of her as his woman? What gave him the right? They weren’t dating. Their entire relationship to this point quantified as nothing more than a one-night stand.

  That realization made her grip on the steering wheel slacken as her vision blurred.

  Kristos made her want. She knew when she kissed him that the night was not going to end with cuddling and breakfast in bed, yet when her phone had rang earlier, she almost didn’t take the call. His life story was fascinating. He was loyal and brave, and the passion he had shown her was beyond anything she ever imagined. That type of attention was addictive and a soothing break from the stress of her job. Each second spent in his company made her crave more of his loving attention.

  She liked him. Really, really liked him, and fighting was both exhausting and a waste of their time. But his insistence that she change who she was cut her to the quick. All of her professional life had been spent fighting for the respect that others, men mostly, had been freely granted. Once, just once, could someone believe in her without having her run through an obstacle course to prove her worth? Nothing riled her more than being told she wasn’t good enough based on a personal preference and not her actual ability. If Kristos continued to stand in the way of her doing her job, any possibility of them becoming a couple was as likely as a stripper keeping her clothes on.

  Blue and red flashing lights snapped her out of her introspection. She mentally gathered all the fragments of her out-of-control reality and tied them up with a sturdy knot and shoved them into a deep pocket of her brain to process later. She had to focus on the task at hand, and an overbearing, well-meaning alien with super strength, super speed and a super cock was not at the top of her priorities.

  A tittering laugh escaped. Yep, in her fucked-up world she had bigger issues to contend with.

  With her resolve firmly in place, she arrived at the scene just as the sky lightened to a deep-purple haze. Dust hung in the air in a thick curtain, and a wide swath where trees once stood cut through the forest like a reverse Mohawk. Trepidation burst forth like a periscope bursting from the ocean to scan for hidden danger. This wasn’t just a simple cave-in.

  Brett smoothed back the fringe escaping her braid with one hand while she reached for her coat with the other. She really wished she had time to put on her uniform, but she knew if she hadn’t gotten out of the house immediately, Kristos would have tied her to the bed, and no, that would not have been a good thing, she admonished her traitorous libido.

  Deputy Reutgers approached her as she stepped from the vehicle. He was young but eager, and hadn’t fallen into the complacency of policing a small town like some of the other officers had. She had high hopes of him being a big part of the next generation of the department she was working so hard to reinvent.

  “Morning, Sheriff.” He tipped his hat in greeting then his jaw dropped in alarm. “What happened to you?”

  “What are you talking about?” She frowned then tried not to wince as she imagined what she must look like. Shit, had Kristos left a hickey she hadn’t noticed?

  “Your eyes,” he stammered and pointed at her face.

  She bent to look in the side mirror and choked on a gasp. She blinked once, twice, then three times in hard, tight pulses, but the image didn’t change. How the hell had she not noticed that?

  Her irises, once a plain, nondescript hazel, were now milky white.

  A string of curses that would’ve made a Hell’s Angel blush rent through the morning air, scattering whatever remaining wildlife in the area scurrying for their lives. Her fingers dug into the cold metal around the mirror as she wished it was the neck of a certain alien from Saturn.

  He did this to her, whatever this was. He must have.

  “Sheriff?” Reutgers asked. She didn’t miss the way his hand covered his privates, as if he expected her to pummel the first victim she encountered. With the anger surging through her, it was a very real possibility.

  “It’s, ah, it’s a…uh bandage the doctor gave me for some scratches on my eyes. They’re like contacts. I just didn’t expect it to look so dramatic.”

  “I didn’t know that even existed.”

  “Modern medicine for you.” May the boy be kind enough not to question her further. “Show me what’s going on.”

  A handful of park rangers and a few of Cedar’s finest stood where it looked like Willie the Giant dragged his trowel in the ground in preparation for planting.

  She let loose with a low whistle as she surveyed the damage. “Are we sure no one’s under there?”

  “Yep,” Deputy Dawson answered then scratched at his belly hanging over his belt.

  Where Reutgers was the department’s future, Dawson was the epitome of everything wrong with the old regime. He was a coffee-guzzling, doughnut-popping chauvinist who reinforced the stereotype of good ol’ boy law enforcement. On some days she wished his size thirteens would get in his way, tripping him up so he could retire with his pension and leave the real work to those who actually gave a shit.

  “I’m not taking any chances. Call in Joyce and Armando. I want their dog out here, now.” She crouched near the edge and drew in a deep breath. Under the damp, bitter scent of freshly turned earth and metallic rock, she tasted the burn of primer on the back of her tongue. It reminded her of the year she spent on the bomb squad during her anti-terrorism training. Each night she had come home smelling like a fireworks factory. “Someone set this to blow.”

  Dawson snorted and tried to fold his arms across his chest, only succeeding as far as crossing his wrists. “Why would anyone go to the trouble to create a ditch with explosives?”

  Her gut told her it had something to do with the tunnel found yesterday. “That’s our job to find out. Bust out the gloves, boys. I want samples of dirt, rock and foliage from all over this area. I also want a geologist called out for a consultation.” Oh what she wouldn’t give for a proper forensic unit.

  “A geologist? What for?”

  “Unless you have a degree in topography or geology that I don’t know about, I want to know what’s so special about this stretch of rock.”

  He turned to spit then sucked at his teeth. “It’ll just be a waste of time, and it’s not like anyone was hurt.”

  “I’m sure these rangers appreciate your concern. If bending over is too much for you, Dawson, then find me the geologist.”

  “Where the hell am I going to find one of those?”

  “It’s called the internet. There are websites out there beyond the ones with three Xs in the URL. I want them in my office before noon.”

  “Fine.” He turned away, muttering under his breath, “Sheriff needs to get laid.”

  Nope, problem was Sheriff got laid.

  * * * * *

  At 12:30 p.m. it was Reutgers who came through and had a professor from the University of Washington arrive in her office. His knowledge of the area, along with what she pulled from the permit office, gave her the first solid lead on a suspect and motive.

  Eight miles over the ridge and down into the valley sprawled Neimi Gravel and Mining. Brett arrived just as the morning and evening shifts converged and parted ways. A female driving a squad car attracted a lot of lingering glances and a few wolf whistles, which she ignored as par for the course. This might have been the bosom of mother nature but it was also definitely man’s land.

  The stench of diesel fuel obliterated the sweet pine air and burned the inside of her nose. Before her lay a vast expanse of destroyed earth that stretched along the valley floor. The terraced steps of the giant pit looked like a street-whore version of the Grand Canyon. A fleet of dump trucks zigzagged to the bottom and delivered their load to a hopper-type machine that ground its food into tiny bits and flushed it out onto massive conveyors headed for God only knew
where. Gravel was the mine’s bread and butter, but they recently entered the copper game, and the crash course she received from the professor an hour before hadn’t prepared her for the reality of the destruction that fueled the modern world.

  That’s it, mandatory recycling of everything at the station. Fuck that, all of Cedar, she decided, closing her eyes to block the view of the wasteland below.

  “Sheriff Briggs, what a surprise.”

  Brett turned to see Jebadiah Neimi approaching from the steps of a trailer. He wore a yellow hard hat and a matching vest. As one of Cedar’s city council members, she had many run-ins with the head of Neimi Mining. His smooth charm and too-loud laughter always flipped on her bullshit meter.

  “Aren’t I a lucky man to have your beauty brighten what had been an unremarkable day.”

  Years of practice kept her pleasant smile in place in the face of such crap. She shook the offered hand just long enough to be polite and with the right amount of pressure to suggest that she wasn’t a pushover to the Y chromosome. His hands were rough and gnarled, like a man who spent long hours doing manual labor. However, years spent behind the desk softened any other existence of a once fit body.

  “So to what do I owe this pleasure?” he asked.

  “I’m doing some research that I hope you can assist me with. Do you have a few minutes?”

  “For a pretty lady? Of course. My office is this way.”

  He gestured for her to precede him back to the trailer and opened the door with a flourish. The darkened interior gave her pause as did the tightening pressure in her chest. Her hand instinctively hovered near her knife, her preferred weapon in close quarters, as she took the first step into the lion’s den. The scent of wet rock and burned coffee blurred her vision, making it difficult to discern all of the maps and permits tacked to every inch of available wall space.

  “Please, have a seat. Can I get you some coffee? I can close the blinds if it’s too bright in here for you.” He motioned to his face.

  She sat gingerly on the edge of a metal folding chair and resettled the sunglasses, hiding her freakish eyes. “No, thank you. The light is fine. Just had my eyes dilated.”

  “What can I do for you?” Instead of taking a seat behind the desk, he sat on the corner by her knee.

  A smile flirted with the corner of her lips at the subtle display of dominance. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but yesterday two children fell into a sinkhole in the national park.”

  “Oh, I’ve heard all about it. I’m sorry, Sheriff, but I don’t know who he is.”

  She cocked her head. “He who?”

  He reached for the newspaper lying on the desk then handed it to her.

  The Chameleon Rescues Sheriff screamed the headline. The half-page photo captured a black-hooded Kristos as he jumped into the pit. His multicolored tunic blended into the scenery, obscuring most of his body.

  Jiminy Christmas. They gave him a frickin’ nickname.

  The paper crackled like a dying firecracker in her tightening grip as she handed it back to Neimi. “No, I’m not here about…him.”

  “Any idea who he is? Did he really lift a two-ton boulder with his bare hands?”

  “Unfortunately, I didn’t get a good look.” She shifted in her seat. “Mr. Neimi, I wanted to ask about what type of equipment is required to dig a tunnel.”

  He arched a blond brow. “What type of tunnel?”

  “Oh, one about”— she stretched out her arms—“this wide and about four feet tall.”

  “What type of terrain are you digging through?”

  “Mostly basalt.”

  His lips pursed in thought as he scratched his cheek. “Well, a good ol’ hammer drill will get the job done, if you got nothing but time and years on your hands. But the most common tool is a continuous miner. It’s a long, combine-type machine with a grinding log in the front that eats away at the rock.”

  “How difficult is it to obtain one of these machines?”

  “Anyone with a decent cash flow can get a hold of one. If they’re a small-end mine, renting would be a more viable option.” He folded his arms and smiled. “Looking to get into mining, Sheriff?”

  “Perhaps.” She motioned to the window. “You’ve been in business here a while, haven’t you?”

  “Forty-five years,” he said with pride. “We’re the largest gravel provider in the state.”

  “I see you’re tunneling as well as digging. Isn’t that unusual for a copper mine?”

  The light in his eyes dimmed as his smile turned from curious to shrewd. “Perhaps. But we aren’t just mining copper.”

  “Really? Did you strike gold too?”

  “Better than gold. Something really special.” He stepped behind his desk and pulled open a drawer, withdrawing a spool of fine silver chain. “Do you know what this is?”

  She leaned forward in her seat. “Not copper?”

  He laughed and handed her the spool to examine. “This is molybdenite. This little mineral is used in all sorts of products, but mostly to strengthen other minerals. But science has discovered how to harness its strength all on its own. This little chain can hold fifteen tons. And if you mix it with carbon, it will burn longer and cleaner than any fuel in existence. Doing more with less material makes it a lot more valuable.”

  The chain was light in her hand and delicate enough to wear around the neck. She watched the light sparkle off the links as the end swung free and murmured, “So this is what you’re mining for under the park.”

  He stared at her in surprise for a second before he leaned back in his chair with a chuckle. “No. That would be illegal.”

  She set the spool on the desk. “I would like to look in your mine, Mr. Neimi.”

  “Would you now? What for?”

  “I want to look at these.” She pulled a square piece of metal from her pocket.

  “I don’t know what that is.”

  “Sure you do. This is a plate that’s screwed into the rock to keep the ceiling from crashing down. They’re supposed to be spaced every few feet to maintain the integrity of the tunnel. But in the one running under the park they were spaced too wide apart. I have a feeling your tunnels may have the same shoddy workmanship.”

  “You’re a mining expert too?”

  “No. But I have a friend who is.”

  He placed his hands behind his head with another laugh. “Sorry. Can’t allow untrained civilians in the mine. Against OSHA rules. I’m sure you understand.”

  “Of course.” She got to her feet with a small sigh. “I’ll just call my friend and come back another day.”

  “Sheriff Briggs, did you know that I was great friends with your predecessor?”

  Disquiet rolled from her stomach and lodged in her sternum again. “Is that so?”

  “Yessiree. We were good friends. You could say we were partners. We worked together, helping each other make Cedar a productive, thriving community. I even got his grandson into Gonzaga. Paid for his education too.”

  A bitterness filled her mouth as if she’d taken a big gulp of the sludge in the coffee pot. “That was very generous of you.”

  “As I said, we were close friends. I helped him and he helped me.” A speculative gleam entered his eyes. “Tell me about your goals, Sherriff. What is it that you most want?”

  “I want to keep my town safe. Thank you for your time, Mr. Neimi. I’ll be in touch.”

  His eyes raked over her in a gaze so lewd, the filth would take two showers to remove. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  Chapter Seven

  “You call this keeping a low profile?”

  Kristos woke to his brother’s bellow and the slap of a newspaper pegging him square in the face. He barely wiped the sleep out of his eyes before Lucian flipped the mattress, spilling him onto the floor.

  “By the Gods, Luc. What is your problem?”

  This was not how he was supposed to wake up the morning after a night of loving Brett. He was supposed to be in
a warm bed next to his hot woman. Not tossed out of his bed just after falling asleep because he spent the previous night making sure said woman was not purposely running into danger.

  He pulled the tangled sheet from over his head and frowned at the paper sprawled under his nose.

  The Chameleon Saves Sheriff.

  He stroked his chin and fluctuated between amused pride and embarrassed horror. If Brett saw this, she was going to have to get behind his brother in the kick Kristos’ ass line.

  “And you wore the royal armor?” Lucian continued to shout. “I swear, Kristosllanos, I wonder why I didn’t leave you on the death stone.”

  “Don’t blame me. I didn’t come up with the name. I don’t even know if I like it.” He got to his feet and stretched his aching muscles. The day before had been more taxing on his body than a run down the river.

  “You aren’t listening to a word I’m saying. You—what is that?” Lucian pointed a shaking finger at Kristos’ head.

  Kristos went to look in the mirror above the dresser and sucked in a breath at the sight of his reflection. His two hearts kicked in exhilaration as he fingered the dark-blond lock that fell across his forehead. Brett’s mark.

  On Skandavia, when a man and woman gave each other to their keeping, their empathic abilities joined together so that they synchronized as true partners. When the bond was complete their hair and eye color changed to reflect the mated pair.

  Brett let her fear stop the bond from completely forming, which is why the color leached from her irises instead of matching the jade-green of his. When the morning dawned and his appearance hadn’t changed at all, he was half afraid he had completely misinterpreted her feelings for him. This little lock of gold confirmed what he knew all along. She belonged to him.

  “You spoke the Vows of Eternity?” Lucian’s voice raised an octave.

  “Calm down.” Kristos patted his brother’s rigid jaw. “You’ll have an aneurism.”