The Negotiation

by Tyler Anne Snell

  Sheriff Reed took off his cowboy hat, placing it against his chest in thought. Caleb wrote in his detective’s pad. Suzy rubbed her pregnant stomach while her brow drew in. Dane looked back at the whiteboard, eyes—and maybe thoughts, too—focused on something Rachel would bet none of them could see. Trying to puzzle out what was really going on.

  Then slowly but surely, Dane’s gaze shifted to hers. Rachel had spent years of her life around the man before the years without him had fallen. In that time she had learned his expressions, mannerisms, bad jokes and even brand of cologne. By proxy she also had memorized the color of his eyes. Or, at least, she had thought that was the case. She’d once thought of them as dark chocolate. Rich and smooth. Now? Now she was changing her mind about that.

  Soot. They were almost as dark as soot left behind after a fire had burned its way to and through life. Something that, once touched, stained skin. Yet in a comforting way.

  The sheriff finally spoke. “Whether or not this Levi man and his friends are part of the original Saviors of the South, a new wave of them or in no way connected, one fact remains.”

  Rachel didn’t look away from Dane as the sheriff continued. She couldn’t.

  “They promise consequences. And from what we’ve seen just in the past two days, I don’t doubt they’ll try to carry those out.”

  Dane broke eye contact.

  “So let’s not give them the chance,” Rachel said, simply.

  To her surprise, the sheriff smiled. He slipped his cowboy hat back onto his head and addressed the entire room.

  “You heard the lady,” he said.

  * * *

  FIGURING OUT THE full motives, identities and whereabouts of Levi and Overalls didn’t happen in the time spent in the briefing room. Not that Dane had expected them to magically find any answers just by talking about it. However, at least now they were all on the same page. Not to mention there were a few new leads to follow or already being pursued.

  One of them being the possibility that the Saviors of the South were back. Which, Dane had to admit, wasn’t too much of a stretch after listening to the broadcast loop as they drove out of town.

  That didn’t mean he had to like it. Just the possibility made everything in him pull tight, as if waiting to snap. When that snap happened, Dane had no idea if it would be his anger that came out in full force or his guilt. Either one was bad for his focus...and the woman next to him.

  “I didn’t know the sheriff’s department had safe houses,” she finally said, breaking their nearly half-hour silence. “I thought things like that were only in movies.”

  “This one isn’t official, but we’ve used it a time or two in the past when we were in a jam. Do you know Suzy’s husband?”

  Rachel snorted. “Who doesn’t know of James Callahan?”

  Despite himself, Dane chuckled. James was the star of the smallest town in the county, Bates Hill. He was also the richest. Before Suzy, he’d also been the most sought-after bachelor. Even though they were raising several kids between them, and expecting one on the way, some women were still upset that James was off the market. Dane had seen the way James looked at Suzy, though. There was no doubt in his mind that he would only ever have eyes for the chief deputy.

  An ache reverberated through Dane at the thought of their family.

  He kept his eyes off Rachel.

  “A while ago one of our own needed a place to lie low and he let them borrow a property he owned,” he continued, gaze on the road ahead. “It was compromised, but he and Suzy saw the value in having a place or two that wouldn’t be as easy to find. So he bought two properties and converted them strictly for hiding out. Only a couple of us, and I mean fewer than five, within the department know where they are.”

  “Is that where Lonnie is?”

  Dane heard the worry throng through her words. It was intense and heartfelt. It made him answer without thinking. “Yeah. He’s at one of them, but not the one we’re going to. Even if both houses are off the radar, we didn’t want to chance having too many targets together.”

  “But what about us?”

  Dane tried not to tense. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, aren’t you a target now?” she said. “Doesn’t that mean we shouldn’t be staying together?”

  Rachel had a point. The whole reason behind why they’d separated Lonnie and Rachel was to help curb the temptation to pool whatever resources Levi and his goons had to try to take both at once. But now Dane was a target, according to the broadcast. Which meant staying at the department might have been the best course of action.

  Yet, even as he realized that, Dane knew he wouldn’t have entertained the idea if it had been brought up beforehand.

  He wasn’t leaving Rachel.

  He just couldn’t.

  Dane shook his head.

  “That’s different,” he countered defensively. “We’re different.”

  He hadn’t meant the last comment, but it was true enough. He and Rachel were adults, for one. Second, Dane was a lawman. It wasn’t like he was adding extra risk to the situation. He had a gun, knew how to use it, and would stop at nothing to make sure Rachel was safe if something did happen.

  But that’s not why we’re different.

  Dane opened his mouth to clarify but came up short. He didn’t know how to explain something he couldn’t make up his own mind about.

  “We’re friends,” he decided to finally say. “And we stand a better chance of figuring this thing out if we work together.”

  Dane glanced over at Rachel. She took his explanation.

  “Friends,” she repeated.

  “Friends.”

  Though Dane would be lying if he didn’t like how final it sounded.

  * * *

  THE SAFE HOUSE was less of a house and more of a cabin. Small, cozy, and located at the beginning of several acres of old farmland, it looked like a page ripped out of a Southern Living magazine. From the pinecone and red berry wreath on the front door to the lone dining table’s carefully arranged centerpiece to the hand-quilted throw across the bed, Dane felt like he’d stepped into his late grandmother’s house. He resisted the urge to take off his boots at the door. Though he told Rachel how he felt about the small house. It made her laugh.

  “Since when does Dane Jones read Southern Living?” she teased, attention going to the small bookshelf across from the only sitting area in the place. “I thought you only subscribed to magazines about college football and how to build things with your hands.”

  Dane rolled his eyes and looked into the pantry in the corner of the kitchen. It was open with the living area. Only the small bedroom and attached bathroom had doors between them.

  “You learn a thing or two when you date Becky Carr,” he said with a laugh. “She was a hoarder when it came to that magazine. Had stacks of them in her house and her car. She even had us make our own Christmas wreaths from an article in one as a date. It was...an interesting experience to say the least.”

  Dane went to the back door, opened it and looked out before shutting it and throwing the lock. He turned back to Rachel, wondering if she’d heard him. He was met with a raised eyebrow and a look he couldn’t read. It turned into a grin as she dropped onto the love seat.

  “You’re dating Becky Carr? As in the Becky who runs the florist shop in Carpenter? The same Becky who nicknamed herself Hardy Carr-Carr?”

  Dane threw his head back as a laugh came out uninhibited.

  “I’d forgotten she called herself that,” he said, dropping into a chair next to the couch. It was such a close proximity that he had to be mindful of his knees not touching hers. “But no, we’re not still dating. That ended a few years ago.”

  “Oh, too bad.” Rachel picked up one of the coffee table books. A picture of something craft-related was on the cover. “Was it serious?”


  Dane couldn’t help raising his brow at that. Then again, it wasn’t unusual for Rachel to pry into his romantic life. She’d tried to play matchmaker for him multiple times when they were younger.

  They were friends. They’d just covered that, after all.

  Yet Rachel wouldn’t meet his eyes.

  “Not exactly,” he admitted. “Suzy introduced me to her because she said I was becoming a hermit and it was ‘alarming.’” Dane snorted. “We only went on a few dates. Honestly, I think she was more interested in the idea of dating someone in law enforcement and not actually dating someone in law enforcement. She actually tried to give an ultimatum when I had to cancel a date to go to a crime scene. Said it was either her or the job.”

  That earned a look of surprise from Rachel. “No, she didn’t.”

  Dane laughed and held up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

  “Considering you’re now a captain at the sheriff’s department, I’m assuming you let her down gently.”

  Dane nodded but winced. “I might have gotten overly defensive about it and come off a little too blunt, though. Said some things I’m not entirely proud of. To this day Suzy gives me guff about it. But Becky started dating her now-husband after that. Has a couple of kids running around and seems happy enough. I just can never buy flowers in Carpenter again.”

  They shared a laugh and, for a moment, Dane felt the walls he’d had up around Rachel start to lower. Could they really pull off being friends again? Did he want to? Was it even possible?

  “How about you?” he asked. “Seeing anyone?” Dane had meant it to be casual, but somehow it sounded off.

  Rachel put the book back on the coffee table and shook her head. “I haven’t been on a proper date in almost two years.” She managed to look sheepish. “Do you remember Tatum Rogers?”

  Dane was already shaking his head. But not because he didn’t remember the man. “Don’t tell me you went out with Tatum Rogers.” Dane was holding back a laugh the best he could. It was Rachel’s turn to cringe. “Ha! How can you give me any flack about Hardy Carr-Carr when you went out with Tatum Talks-About-Himself-in-the-Third-Person Rogers?”

  Rachel was off the couch and waving a hand at him.

  “He didn’t always talk about himself in third person,” she proclaimed halfheartedly. “He only did it when he was really excited about something.”

  Dane got up and followed her into the kitchen. “Rachel, talking about yourself once in third person is too much already. Please tell me it was you who called it off.”

  She opened the pantry and went directly for a box of pasta noodles. He was suspicious when she didn’t answer right away. “Rachel...?”

  “Fine, he broke up with me.”

  Dane was afraid that he’d touched a nerve until she sighed.

  “And he did it in third person, too.”

  Dane couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

  “Get it all out,” Rachel said. “I’ll just make us something to eat while you make fun of me. Deal?”

  Dane just kept on laughing.

  * * *

  “I THINK IT’S time to go.”

  Levi looked around the garage. He didn’t want to leave anything behind. At least, nothing they weren’t supposed to leave. Making sure not to touch anything, he made one more sweep. The garage wasn’t necessarily large, but it wasn’t small, either. There was enough room to make a mistake. And he’d be damned if he’d be the one to make it.

  “How long will this keep going?” Javier asked, motioning to the radio equipment. “How long will it keep playing?”

  Levi rolled his eyes. He didn’t like Javier, hadn’t liked him from the start. But he was another set of hands and muscle. He’d already lost Wyatt that morning. Plus, Chet had been wounded. What had started as a well-manned group had shrunken in the span of one day. By the end of this thing, Levi might be the one holding all the strings.

  “It’ll keep going until it’s manually shut down,” he said. “But they have to find this place first.”

  Javier nodded and grabbed his bag. A semiautomatic was housed inside it. Levi hoped Javier was better at shooting than he was at thinking.

  “What if they do? What if they find this place?”

  “Then we better not be here. So let’s stop yapping and get out.”

  Javier wasn’t the least bit worried about double-checking his area, so Levi did it for him. Even though he had no problem with the dense man getting caught, Levi believed that if the FBI got Javier he would try and make a deal with them. Levi outranked Javier, Wyatt and Chet with what he knew but if Javier started talking he could still do some damage. Especially to Levi. He hadn’t bothered hiding his identity from the ex-bouncer.

  Levi was going to have to kill him when everything was said and done anyway.

  The drive to the house was uneventful. Javier kept quiet in the back seat with his gun and Levi didn’t try to start anything. They both knew what happened next. They’d certainly planned it long enough to be confident.

  Levi parked the car and helped Javier take their gear inside. The house was cold. He hated the heat.

  “Honey,” he sang, high-pitched and mockingly. “I’m home!”

  Javier snickered but was wise to stay quiet. He scooped up the cat and disappeared into the next room. The man in the office wasn’t as amused.

  “If he sees you acting like an idiot, he’ll only continue to act like an idiot.” The man looked up from his newspaper and gave Levi a look that said he wasn’t impressed.

  Levi turned and shut the door. “I think that ship has sailed already.”

  The man sighed. “Whether or not that’s true, it doesn’t matter now, does it?”

  “Either way we get what we want,” Levi said. “Well, if the plan works, that is.” Levi tensed. He knew he was taking a risk, but he had to voice his concerns. He continued when the man didn’t respond. “What if you can’t get him? What if you can’t grab the boy?”

  Marcus smiled. “Then I’ll grab her.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The steam filled the bathroom while tears filled Rachel’s eyes. Thanks to Suzy and her husband restocking the house before they arrived, she and Dane had spent an hour or so eating homemade mac ’n’ cheese and catching up like old friends. From disastrous dates to career moves and thoughts on gossip new and old, they’d found a way to make the cabin’s kitchen into a time machine.

  It had been nice.

  And had made Rachel forget why they were there.

  At least, until she’d gone into the shower.

  There, beneath the stream of hot water, she had remembered the men. Remembered how they’d grabbed her. How they’d terrified her.

  How one of them had almost killed her.

  And how he had, instead, died in front of her.

  Rachel had done what Dane had told her. She’d looked into his eyes and followed them until she had been no longer on the roof and safely inside Lonnie’s room. But there had been the first moment after it had happened when Rachel had looked down at the man dead near her feet. His eyes had been open, staring at nothing.

  Then there was the blood.

  Rachel had cradled her cheek in the shower. The tears had been slow at first and then had walloped her. She’d held one hand over her mouth and used the other to hold herself up against the wall. Part of her was afraid that Dane would hear her and run in to comfort her. Part of her wanted that.

  Which seemed to make the emotions spilling out of her even worse.

  After everything that had happened, there she was, thinking about Dane, when less than two days ago just the thought of him had made her angry.

  “Prioritize,” Rachel told the mirror. She wiped the condensation aside and then scrubbed her hands beneath her eyes. They were red and swollen.

  She sighed.


  There was no hiding the fact that she had been crying.

  She dressed quickly into the pajama set and underwear that, Rachel assumed, Suzy had purchased and put out for them. It was definitely a step up from the baggy tee and loose shorts she often slept in at home. It oddly fit like a glove, too.

  Rachel took one last look at her too red eyes, pulled her hair into a quick, messy braid, and tried to pretend everything was okay as she left the bathroom.

  Dane’s voice was quiet but insistent. Rachel paused, worry starting to make her muscles seize up, but she never heard another voice. He must have been on the phone. She walked to the bedroom door. She’d left it open, not liking the idea of having two doors closed between them, and peeked out around the door frame.

  Once again Rachel was met with an uninhibited view of Dane Jones. Sitting on the couch, he had a notebook open on his lap and the phone to his ear. The other hand held his chin, propped up on his knee. His brow was drawn and his jaw set hard.

  He was in work mode.

  He was so handsome.

  The thought sprang up just as heat moved from below her waist. It started to travel upward, turning into a full-body blush. Rachel took a step back, worried Dane would somehow know what she was feeling. Instead, the quick movement alerted the captain to her presence.

  Two dark eyes nearly swallowed her whole.

  He smiled but held a finger up to tell her to hold on.

  Rachel nodded. She swallowed when he looked back at his notebook.

  “Yeah, Chance, thanks for this,” he said into the phone. “I’ll look into it... Yeah, should be no problem here... Yeah, just call this number.” He laughed. “I guess I lucked out with this burner phone, huh? Good thing we had it at the department.” Something serious must have been said on the other end of the conversation. Dane sobered. “I will, brother. Thanks.”

  Rachel went to the chair and sank into its fabric after he ended the call.

  “Was that Chance the cowboy?” she asked. The burn from her blush was ebbing away. Dane nodded, his focus switching to the notebook. Rachel couldn’t see what it said, but half the page was filled.