“All right, enough! Break it up.” Seana broke through the crowd. At first she’d wondered if she shouldn’t call in reinforcements, but the crowd seemed temperate enough, just looking for some cheap entertainment.
“Better run for it, Treat. Deputy Chief’s got you in her sights again,” someone in the crowd taunted.
Seana ignored the comment and looked at Kelvin, who’d snapped to attention when he’d heard her. Yeah, he’d better. She had a few choice words to say to him too. She motioned for him to take Hank while she ventured toward Treat.
They were focused totally on killing each other. Treat threw a punch, and Seana was too close, taking it on the chin. She threw her head back to miss it as she saw it coming, but the fist still connected. Luckily she hadn’t received the full power of the punch.
There were a few gasps, one, “Oh, fuck no,” and then silence as the crowd waited to see what she would do next.
Straightening, Seana worked her jaw, glad that it wasn’t broken. Stars had flared in her vision but dissipated fast. Stunned more than actually hurt, she grabbed Treat’s wrist, twisted it behind his back, had him on the ground and cuffed before another breath had been taken.
“You okay?” Treat asked, panting hard. “God, DC, I’m sorry.”
“You have the right to remain silent, and I highly suggest you keep your damned mouth shut.” Seana finished reading him his Miranda rights and glanced up to see Kelvin finally doing his job. He had Hank restrained, his hands also cuffed behind his back. “Officer, take him to the clinic to be looked at before bringing him to the station.” Chances were Hank’s nose was broken.
“Yes, sir.” Kelvin wrapped an arm around Hank and helped guide him through the crowd to his cruiser.
Seana pulled Treat to his feet and addressed the spectators. “The rest of you better scatter, or I’ll have officers down here arresting your asses for gambling. That’s still against the law here in Alaska.”
“If it is, what do you call fishing?” hollered a bystander. Snorts of laughter followed.
Seana stared them down.
“Woman probably is a dyke,” one of them muttered. “No sense of humor.”
Treat stiffened in her hold.
“Shut it,” Seana warned, her hand tightening on his arm.
The crowd started to disperse, but comments were still being batted about.
“Did you see her take down Treat like that?”
“Gay or not, I’d love for her to manhandle me like that. Woman’s got one fine ass.”
“I know, dude, that’s the best action I’ve had in months.”
“Ten to twenty, she’s not gay.”
“I’ll take that bet.”
Seana stopped and turned back to the clacking crowd. “No more bets. This nonsense ends now. I’m not gay, and yet I’m not interested in hooking up with men either. Got it?”
A few shuffling of boots followed her words, and then one smartass started it up again. “Where do you stand on crabbers?”
She huffed out an exasperated breath and yanked Treat toward her vehicle, depositing him in the back once again.
Chapter Seven
“How’s the jaw?” Treat asked. Guilt soured his stomach. He’d never hit a woman before.
“I’m not ready to talk to you.”
“I know, but please let me know if you’re hurt.”
Something in his tone must have gotten through to her for her shoulders relaxed a bit, and her tone softened. “I’m fine. I’m as much to blame for the hit as you are. I should have gone in guns blazing.”
“I’m really sorry, DC.”
“Why were you involved in that idiot display of testosterone anyway?”
“Some mouths needed shutting,” he muttered looking at the view outside his cage in the backseat. A few pedestrians pointed to the SUV as they passed by. Word had already spread. He wasn’t even in jail yet, and the town knew he was arrested again. Twice in two days. No doubt that would bring his mother down to lecture him.
They arrived at the station, and Seana helped him out of the vehicle. Cuffed or not, he liked her hands on him, guiding him. Now, if he could just get her to guide him in other areas. Like how she preferred to be touched…
“Pay attention,” Seana snapped when he tripped up the steps. Her eyes narrowed on him. “Do I need to take you to the clinic too?”
“Naw. I’m just twitterpated by your presence.”
“You’re…what?”
“You smell like mangos and coconut, and I can’t help wondering if you taste as sweet.”
Her eyes narrowed to slits. “You’re in enough trouble here, Devereux. You really need to shut the hell up before you find yourself in a lot more.”
Mina held the door open. Treat hadn’t even known she was there, witnessing his stumble and then his second stumble when he’d come on to the Deputy Chief. He had to figure out how to get through DC’s hard shell. He’d thought of nothing but her since he’d laid eyes on her yesterday.
“Hey, Mina,” he greeted as Seana propelled him into the station.
“Nice to see you again, Treat.” Tongue in cheek, she added, “There are more reasonable ways to get our Deputy Chief’s attention, you know.”
“Yeah?” he asked. “We should talk.”
Mina sputtered out a laugh. “Where are Kelvin and the other guy?”
“Hank. Sent him to the clinic.”
“You fought Hank Stokes and he was the one needing medical care?”
“Yep.”
“Dang, Treat.” She looked him over and then took in the scowling Deputy Chief with new eyes.
“If you two are finished,” Seana said, “I’d like to get on with my job.”
“Let’s get to it,” Treat said. “Turns out getting booked by you is starting to be the highlight of my day.”
“You really need to shut up.”
He smiled at her, wincing as he felt the lucky punch Hank had landed on his jaw. At least his lips were in working order.
“Come on.” Seana pulled him with her. She quickly booked him into custody and had him stashed in a cell in a very efficient manner. He hardly got any quips or personal information out of her. She knew how to stonewall better than anyone he’d been up against so far.
He rested his wrists through the bars as he watched her walk away. He did love the view, but hell, what would it be like having her walk toward him with something besides arrest on her mind?
He gave up and gingerly lowered himself onto the cot. Damn Hank and those beefy fists of his. He was going to feel this for days.
Treat didn’t know how much time had passed when there was a sound of someone entering the cellblock, then keys in his lock. He opened his eyes and glanced up. The Deputy Chief was back with bandages, hot water, and ice packs. His heart thudded hard. Was she going to play nurse? For a minute he wished he was hurt worse.
“I didn’t think you cared, DC.” He swung his legs over and sat up on the cot, holding his hand to his sore ribs.
She faltered in her step. “You didn’t say your ribs hurt.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“I’m asking now.”
He paused, knowing how he’d play this if the Deputy Chief was a normal woman. He was quickly learning there wasn’t anything normal about her, and he liked that. A challenge here on land? The sea was the only woman who’d really presented a challenge to him. He liked unpredictable more than he should.
“They’re tender, but not broken.”
“Take off your shirt.”
His heart thudded hard again. He didn’t wait for her to ask twice, since she probably wouldn’t. Slowly he worked his black Time Bandit t-shirt with the skull and crossbones on the front up and over his head.
“You’re an idiot,” Seana murmured taking a long hard look at his torso.
“Aren’t you too old for fighting?”
“If a man is too old to fight for a woman’s honor, he might as well dig himself a grave.”
She bit back a smile. “You ever stop flirting?”
“Not flirting, just speaking the truth.”
“Hmm, well that kind of ‘truth’ is going to get you killed one day.”
“There are worse ways to die.”
“You need to learn to protect yourself better from punches like the ones Hank landed on you. Stand up so I can get a look at you.”
“Almost impossible. Hank is one hell of a fighter.” He got to his feet and stood in front of her.
“Yet you still took him on for my honor?” She set the bowl of water on the brick-hard cot along with the ice packs and bandages and then studied his left side.
“I’d do it again too,” he murmured low in his throat as she stepped nearer. Her fingers glided lightly over his ribs, and a deep moan escaped him.
“That hurt?”
“Oh, yeah,” he whispered. The best kind of hurt. He was aching now in a completely different way. His eyes closed in pleasure as her fingers continued to investigate the bruises already coloring his ribcage.
“What about this?” she asked as she probed each one of his ribs looking for breaks.
He shook his head, words beyond him. Well, at least proper words. If he opened his mouth now, something would come out of it that would surely get him into deeper trouble than he was in right now. He didn’t want to do anything that would stop her tender ministrations. Now if he could just get her to investigate the punches he’d taken to his lower abdomen.
“How’d you get this scar?” she asked.
“Donated a kidney. How is it that you smell like coconuts?” He leaned down and breathed her in.
She froze and looked up at him, her eyes widening as she realized how close they were standing. “Uh…”
He almost hit his knees as her pink tongue wetted her lips.
“Must be the coconut oil I rub into my skin after I shower.”
Oh God. Visions of her naked, rubbing oil into her skin flashed in his mind.
“Forgive me,” he whispered.
“For what?” She blinked at him.
“This.” He grabbed her shoulders and lifted her up against his bare chest as his mouth came down and captured her lips.
She froze in his arms and he had a fleeting moment of misgiving. Her fingers curled into his sides and he caught his breath as pain and pleasure caught fire within him. Then her lips softened under his.
Sweet. She tasted so damn sweet, like mangos coated in honey. And he was hungry. He’d been at sea for months and hadn’t engaged in this kind of treat in a long time.
He backed her up against the wall of the cell, his hard body leaning in and pinning her to the cold metal bars. Smoothing his palms over her shoulders and down her arms, he seized her hands. If she touched him any more, this room would get more action than it was ever meant to see. He raised her hands and held them above her head.
Her fingers curled tight around the bars as if she needed to hang onto something, now that he had prevented her from holding onto his bruised sides. Didn’t stop her from arching her lower body against his. He cursed and crushed her against the iron bars. Their bodies melded as though custom-designed to fit perfectly together. He kept his hands clasped around her wrists so that he wouldn’t strip her out of her uniform.
Lighten it up, he warned himself.
She parted her lips, and the kiss deepened. His tongue stroked against hers, possessing it as he wanted to possess her whole body. She melted into him, her moan causing his knees to buckle and he was helpless not to rub his heavy erection against the junction of her thighs.
Fuck. They were in a jail cell. He wanted to cuff her to the bars, strip her naked, and then do all sorts of dark and decadent things to her until she begged and demanded for him to take her any way he pleased.
A mewing sound escaped her as she wrapped one long leg around his hip, giving him easier access to her incredible heat. She’s definitely not gay.
“Interesting interrogation tactics, Deputy Chief,” Morehouse drawled.
Oh, shit.
Seana thrust Treat away from her, and he stumbled back, falling on his ass and bumping against the cot. The bowl of water Seana had placed there earlier tipped, dousing him. Not the kind of cold shower he needed.
“If this is how you treat your prisoners, we’re going to need more jail cells once word gets out.” Judging by Aaron’s tone, there was no doubt that word would get out.
“Aaron—” Treat started, only to be shot down by a scalding look from Seana.
Seana’s skin reddened to her hairline with a mix of embarrassment and anger. “Sergeant Morehouse, my office. Now.”
Aaron leaned against the opening to Treat’s cell. “If it’s all the same to you, Deputy Chief, I’d rather be reprimanded here…in the same manner as Treat.”
Treat struggled to his feet, wiping water off his chest. “Keep this up, Aaron, and I’ll beat the shit out you.”
“You’re really not in a position to threaten me—an officer of the law—while you’re incarcerated.”
Seana stepped between them. “That’s more than enough. Treat, back up. Morehouse, you’re straddling a line here and you don’t want to slip off.”
“Right,” he scoffed. “Now I know why they thought you were the better man for my job. Guess I’m not as dedicated to climbing the ladder as you are.” He straightened and nodded to Treat. “Looks as though there isn’t a woman alive, gay or straight, who can resist your charms.”
“Aaron—” Treat took a step toward Morehouse as he turned on his heel and left the cell block.
“Sit down,” Seana said, slapping her hand against his chest. “Clean yourself up and stay out of this, Devereux.”
“DC—” Treat reached for her hand, but she easily batted him away and strode out of the cell, locking him in.
“I think you’ve caused enough trouble for me today.” Her distressed eyes met his for a moment, making his heart clench in his chest. She turned and walked out of the room, leaving him with a hell of a mess.
Chapter Eight
Seana entered the hotel for a change of clothes. She didn’t have a lot of time to get ready for her dinner with the Real Housewives of Dutch Harbor as Morehouse had proven even more bullheaded than she’d first pegged him. But showing up for dinner, while still wearing her uniform, would probably put her and the Real Housewives on the wrong footing. Like that would really matter once Morehouse blabbed to everyone.
What the hell had she been thinking? Not thinking was more to the point. Feeling, definitely. Way too much feeling. She’d never been kissed like that before. Felt what Treat had made her feel.
She’d probably fucked up her job over it.
Sergeant Morehouse could have grounds for her dismissal. Maybe it was a good thing that she hadn’t found a place to live yet and her belongings were still MIA. It would make it easier to return to Fairbanks with her tail tucked between her legs. Legs she should have kept closed.
Good hell. If Morehouse hadn’t arrived when he had, she might have taken Treat right there in that cell without a thought to her career, to her future, or to anyone else catching them.
Treat Devereux had lived up to his name. She’d known when she’d first laid eyes on him that he was trouble.
The alarm on her phone sounded, reminding her she was late for dinner. She wished she could cancel, but now, more than ever, it was important that she show.
In deference to the weather turning blustery, she went for a simple black sweater over black jeans. She stuffed the slim-fitted pant legs into black leather boots, forgoing the ones with heels for a more practical tread for the rain/ice/snow they were expecting later tonight. She’d been told the predicted sto
rm would rival anything she’d experienced before, but she guessed not many of the Unalaskans had seen an Alaska interior storm where the temperatures had been known to dip into the negative seventies. She grabbed a scarf in blues and teals for color when she realized she’d unconsciously dressed more for a funeral than a night out with the girls.
She headed downstairs to the Cape Cheerful Lounge, feeling anything but cheerful. After pausing and turning around once, she stood in the lobby of the hotel pretending to appreciate the art on the walls for a few minutes, before gathering enough courage to enter the bar. Mina was already there, assembled with a group of four other women. Seana steeled herself not to turn around and walk back out.
She had work to do. A job to save. She shouldn’t be here.
“Deputy Chief!” Mina called, noticing her.
Crap. Now she was stuck. Seana planted a fake smile on her face and walked over to the table. She could do this. She’d stared down serial killers, for Pete’s sake. A bunch of housewives should be a cakewalk. They weren’t even armed.
Mina stood and introduced her. “Everyone this is Seana Brogan, our new Deputy Chief you’ve heard so much about. Deputy Chief, this is Krista, Courtney, Britann, and Greta.”
Right, Greta with the great boobs. Wow, they were impressive pushed up in the tight fuschia-colored tank. Wasn’t she cold? Yep, by the nipple indicators, she was chilly and obviously unwilling to cover up her assets in order to stay warm. That was conviction.
Britann was a little thing hiding behind large eighties-style glasses. Seana wondered if she needed them, or liked that they made her seem smarter and less doll-like. She was easily the youngest of the group, and had a bunch of textbooks sticking out of the large tote leaning against her chair. Courtney was already on her third drink, going by the two empty martini glasses on the table in front of her. She was slightly hanging off the edge of the chair with an elbow anchored on the table. Krista, on the other hand, seemed like she needed some loosening up. She was a woman strung tight as electrical cable. She hadn’t dressed for dinner, wearing sweats and a large Deadliest Catch sweatshirt and running shoes with her russet-colored hair falling out of its rubber band. She was sipping chocolate milk through a straw.
Reel Trouble: Wild Women of Alaska Page 4
