REEL TROUBLE
Tiffinie Helmer
Acknowledgements
I can’t express how thankful I am for my very own secret agent currently living in Dutch Harbor/Unalaska, Alaska. Yes, I had some inside information, and he/she gave me enough material to write many books set in Dutch Harbor. Since Dutch Harbor/Unalaska isn’t that big, I’ve left his/her name out to protect his/her identity.
To Courtney and Britann, two adorable young women I met on the way to Kauai. I was on the hunt for names, stuck on a six hour flight with no internet or baby name book. They graciously allowed me use their names in Reel Trouble.
To the Alaskan fishermen who fight the treacherous seas and temperamental weather to bring in the Deadliest Catch. As a lover of king and opilio crabs, salmon, shrimp and basically all the bounty the sea provides us, I respect and revere the jobs you do. And as I am a salmon fisherman myself, I understand the siren call of the sea. She’s calling to me now.
To all the loved ones left behind when their men and women sail out to sea. Stay strong and keep the light on!
Dedication
For my Irish twin, Triena Manning. This book had to be yours as you have an enviable reel talent for landing the biggest fish no matter the situation. Love you!
Chapter One
“Did you say assault with a dead fish?” No way Seana had heard that right.
“Yeppers. Down at the Little South America dock.” Mina regarded Seana over her glasses with a bored look as if she had seen it all and wasn’t surprised anymore by anything.
From the reports Seana had read on all her new employees at the Department of Public Safety, Mina was only a few years older than Seana’s thirty-three years.
Mina returned to typing data into the computer, her fingers flying over the keyboard as though what she’d reported was no big deal. “Apparently, two women got into it and one of them had a frozen fish and started beating the other woman with it.”
“Is this a normal occurrence?”
“When the captain of the Miss Julie II is in port it is. That man drives the women crazy. Want me to send someone else out on the call?” Mina raised a manicured brow in challenge. “As you’re new to town, this might be better handled by Sergeant Morehouse.”
Seana Brogan was the new Deputy Chief of Police and wouldn’t be handing anything over to Sergeant Aaron Morehouse, who’d figured when the old Deputy Chief had retired that the position was his to take. “No, I got this.” She grabbed her jacket, though she doubted she’d need it here in Dutch Harbor—called Unalaska by the locals, she was informed when she first arrived at her new post a few weeks ago. Dutch Harbor and Unalaska were two separate places joined by a land bridge, and confused by many as one town. The town was Unalaska while Dutch Harbor consisted of the processors and docks. Dutch Harbor had been put on the map with the Discovery Channel’s reality show Deadliest Catch. Therefore when not in Unalaska, everyone referred to town as Dutch so they knew where they were talking about. It had taken Seana a while to wrap her head around the confusion.
She’d flown in from Fairbanks, thrilled at the promotion to Deputy Chief, but going from forty below to forty above was an adjustment. It was just too warm here on the Aleutians. Didn’t seem to matter that the calendar pointed to the middle of February. This was supposed to be Alaska. It was warm enough for shorts.
She was the youngest officer to be promoted to Deputy Chief anywhere in the State of Alaska. There was no doubt in her mind that she’d earned the promotion, regardless of who her father was; she’d excelled at being a cop since she’d graduated from the Academy. Truth be told, she’d cut her teeth on the job as the only child of widowed and highly decorated Alaska State Trooper Sean Brogan. He’d since retired, but still had a hand in consulting with the troopers whenever they needed him.
She was just as dedicated to being an officer as her old man was. She didn’t date, didn’t socialize, didn’t vacation. Her life was the badge, and she liked it that way. It would take a little while for the people of Unalaska with their good ol’ boy small-town mentality to accept her. She was the outsider. She might as well have been transferred from the lower 48. Didn’t matter that she was Alaskan grown, she wasn’t from the Aleutians. Alaska was a large enough state to have many different geographical and cultural barriers, as she’d learned during her two years of service in the bush. As quirky as Unalaska had started out, she doubted it could beat Hooper Bay.
“Deputy Chief Brogan,” Mina called out as Seana stepped out the door.
She turned back. “Yes?”
“Heads up, as you’re new in town. The captain of the Miss Julie likes to sample all the new flavors.” Mina’s pink painted lips quirked in a bittersweet smile as though she knew what it was like to be ‘sampled’ by this Casanova captain.
“I’m not on the menu.” In her experience, relationships complicated life, and she preferred things simple.
Treat Devereux, captain of the Miss Julie II, held two screaming women by the nape of their hoodies as they tried to scratch each other to shreds. “Ladies, please! We can work this out.” He tried to be heard above the caterwauling, but he’d need a foghorn for that. Shit, they were loud…and he had to admit, kind of scary.
“Break it up!” A new voice joined the racket.
Treat glanced toward the interruption. His heart slammed in his chest at the sexy vision buttoned up prim and official in the crisp, blue police uniform. He always had a weakness for women who wore tailored clothing. All those buttons and buckles. The urge to mess them up was irresistible.
Sultry, almond eyes framed by dark winged brows slanted in his direction, and his hold on the women loosened.
Anya went for Naomi’s throat, knocking Treat on his ass. He lay on the cold dock next to the dead fish that had started this whole ruckus. Laughter erupted from the mixed group of fishermen, processors and dock workers who’d gathered for the mid-afternoon entertainment.
A scream rang in the cold air as one of the women landed a sensitive blow. The sound was followed by a deafening gunshot.
Everyone froze.
“On your feet,” the hot police officer commanded in a take-no-prisoners voice. It poured over Treat like homemade birch syrup, dark and sweet with the kind of bitter bite that always had him going back for seconds. He licked his lips.
“You three, against the rails,” the sexy officer demanded. He was quick to do her bidding, knowing that he’d be willing to do so much more.
Who was she? Obviously she was new since the last time he’d been in port. He loved returning after a long fishing trip to find new treats in town. It was like Christmas.
The women who had started this squabble lined up on either side, making him the middle in their meat sandwich. A few huffs of laughter sounded from the spectators.
“Which one of you was here first?” the officer asked the group in a don’t-give-me-any-crap-or-I’ll-bust-your-balls tone. She pointed to two fishermen who raised their hands, dressed out in their orange Grundens raingear. “You and you, stay. The rest of you get back to work.” When they didn’t move fast enough she growled, “Now.”
They scattered.
Once the crowd had been whittled down to the two witnesses, the women, and him, she holstered her weapon and turned to Jon. “Tell me your name and what you saw.”
Jon glanced in Treat’s direction all wide-eyed. Then he hooked his hands in bibs too wide for his slim frame and too short for his gangly height, and started singing. “Jon Mitchell, ma’am—”
“Deputy Chief Brogan,” she corrected him.
&n
bsp; Oh, crap. She was the new Deputy Chief of Police. Not good. Aaron probably hadn’t taken that well. Was he still in town?
Jon swallowed hard. “Right, sorry, Deputy Chief. You see, Anya and Naomi here are cousins—”
Ah, shit. Cousins? How had he not picked up on that?
“—and Treat here, well, he has a way with the girls, er, women, ma’am—Chief—and well, he was kinda datin’ the two of them at the same time and they figured it out while he was out fishin’ opies.”
“Tell me what you witnessed?”
Jon rubbed the back of his neck. “Do I have to ma’am—Chief? You see, I’m in a roundabout way cousins to Naomi and Anya, and well, also Treat.”
“Treat?” She raised an eyebrow over the name.
Treat stepped forward. “That would be me, Deputy Chief,” he drawled. “Treat Devereux, it’s nice to meet you.” He reached out his hand to shake hers, relishing the idea of touching her.
She ignored his offered hand. “Your name is Treat Devereux?” she asked, her tone now skeptical.
“My conception was kind of a trick or treat thing.” He gave her his winning smile, the one that flashed both his dimples. It did nothing for him. He smiled wider so she got the full effect.
“Right.” She turned toward the other man who’d been quiet during the exchange. “What about you? Are you a cousin too?”
“Uh, no. New to town. This is my first time in Dutch Harbor.”
“Unalaska,” Treat and the Chief said together. She flicked him a look that had him stepping back between the women, who didn’t seem as scary now. Not with her having him in her sights.
“Uh, right, heard that. Don’t understand it, but whatever.” He shuffled feet covered in XtraTufs. Actually they all wore XtraTufs except the new chief. That wouldn’t last. She must not have been in town long or she’d already be wearing a pair.
“What’s your name and what’d you see?” Deputy Chief Brogan asked in a voice trained to uncover every last family secret. She must be hell in an interrogation room. Where did he sign up?
“Brad Winston. I was late to the party. Just finished lunch at Amelia’s and stumbled onto the show. But these two women were yelling at each other, when the redhead—” he pointed to Naomi “—grabbed the fish and started whapping the other woman with it.”
“Hey—” Naomi interrupted, but stopped quick at a piercing look from the Deputy.
Chief Brogan returned her attention to Brad when Naomi settled down. “Continue.”
Brad fidgeted. Treat figured he’d be fidgeting too if she regarded him with that steely look.
“Well, that’s when Treat appeared and tried to…well, handle the situation.”
She cocked another brow giving her opinion on how well he’d ‘handled the situation’. “Thank you, Mr. Winston.”
“It’s Brad, please.”
“All right, Brad. Write down your information so that I can reach you later if I need to.”
“No problem.” Brad took the pen and pad from her and wrote his contact info down. She passed the pad to Jon and he did the same. “Thank you, gentlemen. That will be all for now.”
Brad dipped his head, and he and Jon booked it down the dock like they were in a sure-fire hurry to get somewhere.
Deputy Chief Brogan turned her attention to him. She held his gaze for a long moment, sizing him up. He had the impression she found him smaller than his six-foot-two frame. He’d have to change her opinion. She turned to Naomi. “You hit your cousin with a frozen fish—” she indicated the dead salmon lying on the dock “—this fish…over him?”
“Well,” Naomi started then paused and gave a heavy sigh. “Yeah, I did.”
Chief Brogan turned to Anya. “Do you want to press charges against your cousin?”
“No,” Anya was quick to say. “But I don’t want her to see Treat anymore either.”
“Hey, I was seeing him first,” Naomi started.
“Are you two willing to break your family apart over this man?”
“Yes. No,” they both answered at the same time. They looked at each other, and then down at the scarred wood of the dock.
Chief Brogan raised her brow and waited. There was another mumbled, “No. Yes.” And then both women laughed, apologized, cried, and hugged it out.
Woo, that was close.
“Good,” the Chief said, her face relaxing into a less stern line than before, if not quite an actual smile. It took her from scary schoolmarm back to sexy ‘cuff me’ officer. “Let’s call this a learning lesson in dating Mr. Wrong and move on.”
“Good idea,” Treat said before the words registered. “Wait. I’m not Mr. Wrong, more like Mr. Fun.”
“Get on with yourself, Mr. Fun,” Anya said.
The title of Mr. Fun shouldn’t bite, but he felt the teeth of the barb just as well.
“Yeah, find another woman to play your games with,” Naomi added, though she gave him a wink over Anya’s shoulder.
Uh, nope. He wouldn’t be docking his boat in her slip again. Not after today. He was all fun and games until someone got their feelings hurt, and then he…well, he went fishing.
Naomi and Anya started down the dock, but stopped when Deputy Chief Brogan called after them. “Who’s going to take care of this dead fish?”
Naomi shrugged. “I brought it for Treat, to cook him dinner. He can have it as a reminder of how cold my love is for him.”
“Good one, Naomi,” Treat said. How had he not seen Naomi’s cruel side? He thought he’d seen all her sides.
“I thought so.” Naomi threw her arm over Anya’s shoulder and the two sauntered off like best friends. Or cousins. Shit.
Treat turned back to the Deputy Chief. “Sorry you had to see that.”
“The one who should be sorry is you.” She reached behind her. “Turn around, Treat Devereux. You’re being arrested for disturbing the peace.”
“What?” She had to be joking.
“I’m not joking. Turn around.”
“You can’t be serious?” She sure as hell looked serious, and somehow even sexier. Now that was wrong.
“Want me to add resisting arrest to the growing list of charges?”
Well, shit. Not so sexy now. The new Deputy Chief had no sense of humor. He turned around and let her cuff him. For once he wasn’t enjoying the restraints. And here he’d had such high hopes for them.
Chapter Two
Sergeant Aaron Morehouse burst into her office. “You arrested Treat Devereux?”
Seana slowly glanced up from her report, having expected this confrontation and was surprised it had taken so long. Aaron had been spoiling for one since she’d arrived. “Close the door, Sergeant Morehouse.”
“Afraid the other officers might hear how stupid you’re being?”
Since she’d met Aaron Morehouse he’d gone out of his way to show contempt for her position of authority over him. She doubted he’d be treating her this way if she were a man. “You want everyone to hear? By all means, leave the door open.”
He slammed the door shut. Yeah, she thought so.
Morehouse was a handsome officer with black hair, worn military short, chiseled features, and a heavily muscled frame. He wore the uniform well, but she’d yet to decide if he was a cop because the uniform made him look good, or because he was dedicated to servicing his fellow man.
“Do you realize who Treat is?” he asked, laying his hands flat on top of her desk and leaning over her.
She took her time standing. “I got a pretty good idea exactly who Treat Devereux is.”
“If you did, he wouldn’t be in processing right now.”
“He caused a disturbance down at the docks, and from what I witnessed he should have been locked up before now.” It was her job to keep the public safe, and Treat Devereux had trouble written all over hi
m. She’d met his kind before. He was a pirate, a seducer of women. Every port he docked in, he probably left a trail of broken hearts.
“Let me educate you, Deputy Chief. Treat is this town’s hero. If you’re down on your luck, he’s there to lend you a few bucks. Need help putting on a new roof when the last squall ripped yours off, he’s your man. Need a kidney—”
“Really, a kidney?” She cocked a brow in disbelief.
“Listen, there isn’t one person in this town, and many more up and down the coast of Alaska, who don’t owe Treat something. Give it a few hours, and, you’ll have everyone in Unalaska hollering for his release.”
“Just because he might be upstanding in a few areas of his life, doesn’t make him immune to the law.” Maybe she’d acted a little rash out of a need to have the town take her seriously. She wasn’t willing to admit it just yet, though. Not with Sergeant Morehouse making his point so well.
“Be careful, Deputy Chief. This is a small, quirky town taking bets on how long you’ll last.” His smug expression suggested he’d started the pool.
“Sergeant Morehouse, I didn’t ask for, nor do I appreciate, your advice on how I should do my job. I suggest you put this zeal into keeping yours.”
“You don’t have the balls to fire me.” The superior look he gave her sent a prickling of unease over her. He knew something she didn’t, or he had someone higher than her in his pocket. But if that was the case, why hadn’t he been promoted instead of her? She hated politics. Unfortunately, they seemed to follow the job like gnats on a herd of caribou.
She advanced around the desk, never taking her eyes off his. “You have no idea how big my balls are. But I’d measure them against yours any day of the week. Might want to do some research before you decide to take me on. Now get back to work.”
She watched him struggle, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. Part of her relished the prospect of him making a move, the other wished he’d just do what she said. She’d studied his file, and he was a good officer, if a bit hot-headed. There was a lot to admire about him on paper. In person, she found him lacking.
Reel Trouble: Wild Women of Alaska Page 1
