by Zoe Chant
"Whoa. Hey." He put a hand on her leg, and when that didn't calm her down, he took her into his arms—raincoat, silly hat, and all. "I wouldn't bring you here if it wasn't safe. Yes, I'll have to log the search, but it won't be connected to you at all. I'll make sure of that."
"You can't expect me to just walk into a sheriff's office in broad daylight," she said into his neck. "Axl, I'm a fugitive!"
He rubbed her back soothingly. "And I'm the sheriff. There's no one you'd be safer with. I'm not going to tell anyone who you are. I'm not going to let anybody else near you. As far as anyone is concerned, you're a witness on a case I'm looking into."
"Couldn't we do this somewhere else?"
"I'd do it from the ranch if I could, but we don't have Internet out there. I need the computers here." He smoothed his hand up and down her back. "I won't let anything happen to you. I promise."
She knew it shouldn't make so much difference. And yet it did. Hearing him say those words, she couldn't possibly doubt that it was true.
As long as Axl was there, she couldn't come to harm.
"Yes," she whispered. She pushed herself up, straightened her back, and took a deep breath. "Yes. I'll do it."
A smile broke across his face, so gorgeous it took her breath away. "You're very brave, Tara. I'm so proud of you."
He might think she was brave, but she didn't feel at all brave as she walked into the sheriff's station at Axl's side, with the hat pulled low over her eyes and her shoulders hunched in the rain slicker. She felt absolutely ridiculous, like she was going to a costume party dressed as a fisherman. People would take one look at her and know it was a disguise.
With quick sideways glances, she took in the front office. The only person there was a pretty dark-haired woman, putting something in a filing cabinet. The woman looked up as Axl hustled Tara through the room. "Did you enjoy your personal day, boss?" she called.
"It was great," Axl said, pushing Tara in front of him through an unmarked door. "Looks like it's decided to pour cats and dogs on us today, though."
"Isn't that the truth."
To Tara's dismay, the woman closed the filing cabinet and followed them into the hallway; her dismay was even greater when Axl stopped and turned around to ask, "Where are the deputies?"
"Addison went out to River Bluff, following up a lead on that break-in last week, and JC has a court case this morning." Curious, she was trying to look around Axl at Tara. "Need any help?"
"No. I'm not booking her. She's a witness in an open case and I asked her to come in and look at some mug shots."
To Tara's relief, the woman seemed to accept this, and turned away. "I left some paperwork on your desk," she called over her shoulder on her way out to the main office. "I know it's your favorite."
"Did she see my face?" Tara asked anxiously as Axl shepherded her into a room down the hall.
"I don't think so. That was Kitty Patel, our dispatcher and receptionist. She's great, and the office couldn't run without her, but if I'd rushed you through without giving her an explanation, she'd never have let it alone."
He locked the door and closed the blinds. Feeling a little cloak-and-daggerish, Tara took off the oversized raincoat and hat, while looking around curiously. The office was dominated by a large wooden desk with a brass sign that said SHERIFF AXL TANNER. There was a mounted fish on a plaque on the wall, and a calendar with a picture of a tractor and the name of what was obviously some kind of feed store.
The main thing dominating the office, though, were stacks of papers. They teetered on top of the filing cabinets, drifted on the floor, and spilled out of the "IN" basket on the desk.
"I'm not exactly the world's best housekeeper," Axl said. He hastily moved some books and papers off a chair so she could sit down.
"The ranch house was pretty well kept."
"Yeah, well, I'm not up there that much. That's Alec, mostly."
Speaking of his brother visibly darkened Axl's mood. Tara wished she hadn't brought it up. Instead she picked up a brass paperweight shaped like a cowboy boot, to give her something to do with her hands.
"You want coffee?" Axl asked, booting up the computer. It was a modern tower type with a flat-screen monitor, instead of the ancient, beige-colored monstrosity she'd been fearing.
That sounded appealing, but she was also irrationally worried about having him leave her alone. "No, I'm fine."
Axl typed a password and then tapped some more keys. "There should be a laptop around somewhere; do you see—ah, there it is." He unearthed it from under a stack of blank forms. "I'm going to get you started going through mug shots while I do this."
"I was expecting big books with pictures in them," Tara admitted while he entered his password into the laptop. "That's how it is on TV."
"Nowadays it's all computerized." He brought up a screen with a number of different fields and check boxes. "Okay, I'm going to have you describe the guys who attacked you, and we'll use that to narrow it down. Male—that's one thing down." He ticked a box. "Let's start with whichever of your assailants you remember best. What race was he?"
"White," she said.
"Hair color?"
"Brown, I think. It was really short, like a buzz cut."
She went on describing her attacker as well as she could: height, weight, age.
"Any distinctive marks, like scars or tattoos or missing fingers?"
"There was a tattoo." She closed her eyes, trying to visualize it. "A knife with a skull on it. I—I got a good look at it while he was trying to ..." Smother me. She couldn't finish.
Axl rested a hand on her leg, rubbing soothingly. "Where on his body was it?"
"His forearm." She had a sudden powerful mental flash of that arm, ropy with muscle, holding her down while he tried to press the pillow over her face. She'd flung herself back and forth, the pillow sliding off, and she'd had an up-close look at his arms while they'd struggled.
Axl kept rubbing her leg. He was here, she reminded herself. He was here, and he could turn into a bear and eat anybody who tried to hurt her.
"We can stop if you need to."
Tara shook her head vigorously. "No. I need to get this over with."
"What color was the tattoo?"
"It was really more of an outline, in black ink. Or maybe dark blue or brown. The room was pretty dim."
"Jail tattoo," Axl said. He typed some more. "Okay, we've got some results."
Tara flinched back when the data input screen was abruptly replaced with a closeup mug shot of a heavy-browed bruiser with a scar through his eyebrow.
"Sorry. Er ... that's not him, is it?"
"No," she said, her heart rating calming. She couldn't let them get their hooks into her like this. "I've never seen this man before."
"Are you okay to continue?"
She nodded.
"All right." He set the laptop on the edge of the desk, swiping papers carelessly aside to make a clear place. No wonder he couldn't ever find anything. "You use the arrow keys to move forward to a new one. Down the side—" He pointed to a stack of little thumbnails. "These are shots from other angles and pictures of tattoos, scars, and other marks. Use the mouse to click and see them close up. And let me know if you have any problems."
He moved around to the other side of the desk and started typing, pausing as he paged through the results from each of his searches. Tara began to click through mug shots.
For a little while, there was a companionable silence while they both worked. Sometimes Axl would reach across the desk and brush her knuckles lightly with the side of his hand.
"Wait!" she said. She'd flicked past it, and had to click back. "That's him!"
Axl looked up sharply. "You found him?"
"I think so. Yes, I'm pretty sure. That's him."
Axl came around to her side. "Fred Weezer. Operates out of Jersey, mostly. Known associates ..." He clicked a link. Another, thinner-faced man came up. "You said there were two guys after you. Is this the other?"
/>
"I think so," she said, after studying him.
"That's his cousin Frank. Well done." Axl gave her a quick sideways hug and a kiss on the side of her face, and reached around her to press the print button. Somewhere in the office, a printer began humming.
"Does it really help that much?" She leaned back against him, letting his presence ease the tension that had instantly wound tight at the sight of her attacker.
"It means we know who to look out for. Better yet, both of these guys have warrants out themselves. If I see either of them around town, I can pick them up."
He reluctantly untangled himself from Tara, got up, and retrieved the sheets of paper from the printer.
"What about you?" Tara asked. "What have you been doing over there?"
"Looking into the particulars of your case, mostly. I'm trying to think how we should approach this. Best-case scenario, of course, is that Dick admits he's the culprit and clears you. But, barring that, I think we need to build as solid a case as we can that you were set up and were forced to jump bail. And that's out of my league. You'll need to talk to a lawyer."
"I don't suppose your bear clan includes any lawyers?" she asked hopefully.
He laughed. God, she loved his laugh; it was deep and growly and just right. "Sorry, no. There are some lawyers I know professionally in the area, though. What about your family? I'm sure your father must have a good lawyer on retainer, unless he's in Dick's pocket too."
"Oh God." She covered her mouth with her hand. "I didn't even think of that." But then she reflected on it. "I don't think so. The legal firm our family retains has been with us for a long time. They helped us get a criminal lawyer for me, since that isn't their specialty."
"So it was on a recommendation from the firm? Dick had nothing to do with it?"
Axl had moved to stand behind her, and now he began to massage her shoulders. She leaned back into it, closing her eyes.
"Yes," she said, relaxing slowly. "That's right. He's an old guy, a friend of the law firm's partners and my dad. They've all known each other forever. I think he would've done his best for me as my lawyer, if I'd given him a chance."
"Do you trust him enough to take all of this to him?"
"Hmmm?" It was hard to concentrate with his thumbs digging into her back, easing knots of tension in her muscles she hadn't even realized were there until they let go. "Oh. I ... I hadn't thought of that. I guess I assumed he'd take my father's side over mine."
"He's your lawyer," Axl pointed out. "A lawyer doesn't care if his client is guilty or not, just whether he can get them off."
"I think that's your bias as a cop showing through." She had to force her brain together enough to respond. She was starting to melt like ice cream in the sun. Literal putty in his hands.
The one part of her neck and shoulders that he was very careful about was the healing bite mark where he'd claimed her. Every time his moving fingers encountered that spot, they skated lightly over it, barely brushing the skin. Each time it sent a delicious shiver through her.
"Fair enough," Axl admitted. "Still, the question remains: how much do you trust this guy not to sell you out? We're going to need to bring a lawyer in on it sooner or later, preferably sooner, and one who's already familiar with your case would be a big plus."
She thought about it while his hands continued to work her shoulders, easing out the last of the knots. It was a big step, and there would be no taking it back once they did it. But her father had made sure to get her a top attorney from a law firm with deep pockets. Axl might know local lawyers who were good people, but they probably wouldn't be as well connected.
"Yes," she said at last. She thought maybe she should have been scared, but it was hard to be frightened with Axl's big, strong hands on her shoulders, massaging in slow circles, reminding her that he was here and everything would be all right. "Yes, let's do it."
"Do you have his number?"
She didn't, but she gave Axl his name and he looked up the law firm's contact information on his computer. Axl dialed and handed the phone to her. Then he pulled his chair around to sit beside her, his firmly muscled arm pressed up against hers.
She leaned into him, drawing comfort from that touch.
When the firm's administrative assistant answered, she said, "I'd like to speak to Len Hooper, please. I'm a client of his. It's urgent."
"Who may I say is calling?"
Despite Axl's calming presence, her heart was racing now, her palm so sweaty her hand almost slipped off the phone. "Tara Malloy."
There was a brief pause. "Just a minute, please."
"What if they trace the call?" she whispered to Axl while hold music played.
"They're a law firm, not a police station," he said. "Besides, their caller ID will tell them it's the Pinerock County Sheriff's Department anyway."
Before she could answer, the lawyer's smooth, cultured voice came on the line. "Miss Malloy? It's good to hear from you."
"It's good to hear your voice too," she said, surprised to find it was actually true. "Mr. Hooper, I—I'm ready to start dealing with the charges against me, but first I need to know if I can trust you to keep everything between us confidential."
"Of course you can."
"That's not quite enough, I'm afraid." Her mouth felt dry as dust. She gripped Axl's hand and he squeezed it reassuringly. "You see, there's more going on than I was able to talk about before. And before I tell you, I need to know it's going to stay between us."
"I'm not sure what I could do to convince you, Miss Malloy."
Neither was she, when it came right down to it. At some point, this was going to have to be a leap of faith. "I guess the most important thing I need to know is whether you believe me, about Dick Bannon and me being framed. I have some new evidence that might shed more light on everything I told you before, but before I tell you anything, I need to know it won't be reported back to my father or Dick."
"Miss Malloy, I can assure you that would never happen." He sounded mildly shocked at the suggestion. "The sanctity of client confidentiality in this firm will never be breached."
Axl held out a hand, palm open, and pointed to the phone, then made a "gimme" motion.
"I believe you, I think," Tara said. "And there's someone here with me who wants to talk to you."
She handed over the phone.
"Hi, Mr. Hooper," Axl said. "This is Sheriff Axl Tanner of the Pinerock County Sheriff's Department. First of all, I need to tell you that Miss Malloy has told me her story, and I believe her utterly. I have some items I'd like to fax or email over to you, but I need reassurance that they'll be landing in good hands."
The conversation seemed to go to Axl's satisfaction; he was smiling by the end, and scribbled a number on a scrap of paper. "I'll fax those right over to your office. Thanks." He handed the phone back to Tara with an encouraging nod.
"Well, Miss Malloy, it seems the local law enforcement are in your camp, indeed." Coming from anyone else, this might have sounded sarcastic, but in the lawyer's mild upper-crust tones, it came across genuinely impressed. "If you're ready to share your story, I would very much like to hear it. May I record this?"
Her stomach clenched at that, but she reminded herself that getting her story down in a permanent format should give her more ammunition against Dick, in the long run. "Yes, please."
While Axl gathered up the mug shots of the Weezer cousins and printed off a few other things for faxing, she told Hooper about the attempts on her life.
"These are very serious allegations. Do you intend to press charges?"
"I guess I'm going to have to. But not yet. I don't want to alert Dick Bannon that I'm back in the game. Right now he thinks he's got me running scared."
"Anyone would be," Hooper remarked. "I'm impressed with how you're holding up."
Axl came back from sending the faxes. He placed a cup of coffee in front of her on the edge of the desk. She smiled her thanks.
"I appreciate that, Mr. Hooper,
but I can't take full credit. I think it made a big difference telling my story to the sheriff here and having him believe me. I feel like I really have a case now."
"There's still a lot of work to be done," the lawyer reminded her. "I'd like to meet with you in person. Is that possible?"
"I—I don't know." She looked up, met Axl's eyes for an instant. He touched her arm briefly. Just that small contact made the rising tide of fear subside. "Can I discuss it with the sheriff and call you back later?"
Hooper agreed, and gave her the number of his private cell before hanging up.
Tara blew out a breath and rested her forehead against the back of her hand, feeling as if she'd run a marathon.
"You did good," Axl said softly.
"I'm glad you think so. I just wish I could get my hands to stop shaking."
"Yeah? I have some medicine that might help with that."
He swept her up in his arms. His mouth closed over hers, and her hands came up automatically to press against his broad back. The kiss went on and on, until she was weak in the knees for reasons that had nothing to do with fear.
Axl finally broke away and looked down at her with soft affection in his green-touched eyes. "Better?"
"Much." She felt pleasantly lightheaded—and more than a little horny. The healing bite mark on her neck tingled lightly.
Axl grinned, and kept an arm around her waist. "What say we hit the diner and pick up your stuff?"
"Don't you have to work?"
He shook his head. "Nah, when I was out there I told Kitty I needed to handle this thing with you, and I'd be out for the rest of the day. They'll call me if anything comes up the deputies can't handle on their own. The pace of life is slow around here. Usually, the most the department has to deal with are bar fights and petty theft."
And she'd come here with some nasty Jersey thugs on her tail. She tried to push the thought away as fast as it came, but it must have shown in her eyes, because Axl kissed her again, sucking at her lips until the panic eased. Then he rested his forehead against hers.
