Frost Security: The Complete 5 Books Series

by Glenna Sinclair

  “I don’t think it works that way.”

  “Whatever,” he said, grinning a little. His gregarious smile dropped quickly, though. “Then, of course, there are going to be the questions.”

  “Good,” I nearly shouted. “Let them ask questions! You didn’t do anything illegal in there, did you?”

  “But they’re going to ask questions I don’t want to answer.”

  “Then answer them,” I said exasperatedly. “Nail this guy to the wall. This, and the arson, you can have him rotting away in prison. He can have Uncle Zeke’s cell, for all I care.”

  He shook his head. “No. I don’t want to put this in Peak and Glick’s hands. Look how much he bungled the case with Zeke. I just want to give him enough evidence of who committed the arson to get the charges pulled, and that’s it.”

  “Look, it was that guy that shot at us, not the other way around!”

  “Not just us,” he said. “You. He shot at you.”

  “What? You want to go back and start some kind of gang war with him? Because he took a shot at your client?”

  “No. Because he took a shot at the woman I care about.”

  I laughed a little and shook my head. Then I glanced up and caught a strange look in his eye.

  He was going to kill that man. There was just something. A glint. A cold glint.

  It was sexy in a strange way, even if that look was everything I was against. One part excitement, two parts mystery. The idea of him going in there, taking care of business with this Reggie the Gap character, had a weird kind of appeal.

  I reined my hormones back under control, though, and shook my head. “No, Matthew. You go back and hurt him, that’s it. We’re done before we start.”

  “He fucking took a shot at you, Rebecca. He didn’t give a shit that you were in the truck with me.”

  “Does it sound like I care? I don’t want you trying to take revenge on him for me. I’m fine. So what if I got shot at? I can’t have that man’s life on my conscience. Especially knowing that it would just make things worse.”

  He grumbled a little. “Look. Violence is the only thing these guys understand. It’s the language they speak, Rebecca. I’ve known people like this. They’re nothing but thugs and criminals. It’s how these things work.”

  “This is America,” I said adamantly. “And we’re civilized here.”

  “Well, Ms. Stokes, tell that to the guy who was just waving a gun at us. The same guy who burned down your uncle’s shop. See what his opinion on the matter is.”

  “I don’t live in his America, dammit,” I snapped. “I live in Enchanted Rock, where we abide by the law. End of story.”

  He sighed through his nose, but kept his mouth shut for a moment, like he was trying to think of a response. The tires of his truck ate up the miles as we continued to barrel north, down the road to Enchanted Rock.

  “You know my whole career is based around doing things the cops can’t, right?” he asked after a long silence. “That’s why you came to us.”

  “No,” I said, pausing to collect my words. “Your career is based around helping people. And if you try to take this guy on, try to get some kind of weird revenge for a woman who doesn’t want it, you’re not going to be helping me. Or yourself.” I paused, but continued on, astonishing even myself. “Because I like you, Matthew Jones. I don’t understand why, but I’m attracted to you.”

  He frowned a little. “Rebecca–”

  “No, let me finish. I like you, and I’m attracted to you, but you don’t own me or get to make these kind of decisions for me, Matthew. This is the twenty-first century, for God’s sake. You can’t just decide my honor has been slighted or that I need to be avenged. That’s up to me, okay?”

  He nodded, but I caught a note of reluctance as he did. “Fine,” he grumbled. “Fine. I won’t do anything. Let me discuss it with Peter when I get back to the office, and we’ll see what he decides. He’s got a better head for this kind of thing than either of us. Fair?”

  I nodded. “Fair.”

  He turned his attention back to the road as I breathed out a little sigh of relief and relaxed back in my seat. I gazed out the window just as a sign for Enchanted Rock passed by, the pines and other trees whipping past as we continued home on our northern trek.

  Only a little while longer now. Just a few more hours until we were able to put our new-found evidence down in front of Sheriff Peak.

  “Soon as we get back in town,” Matthew said as he slipped his hand into mine and interlaced our fingers, “I’m going to have Peter listen to the recording. If he thinks it’s good enough, we’ll go to Peak with it first thing.”

  “Do you think it’ll be good enough?”

  “Better be. Right now, this, and whatever we find on your uncle’s computer, is the best chance your uncle has to stay out of prison.”

  Our fingers still interlocked, I nodded and turned my eyes back to the scenery, continuing to watch it fly by.

  We’ll get you out, Uncle Zeke, I thought to myself. If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll bring you home. I promise.

  If I’d known what would happen in the near future, though, I wouldn’t have made that promise. Not right then, at least.

  Chapter Twenty-three – Matthew

  “God fucking damnit,” Peter said just as the office door slammed shut behind me. He threw the first aid kit down on his desk. “What the fuck were you thinking? Now I have to fake stitching you up!”

  “Look, boss,” I whispered back in a near hiss, despite the soundproofed glass enclosing his office, so Rebecca definitely couldn’t hear me, “I was following up on the goddamn lead. What did you want me to do?”

  “I wanted you to not get fucking shot at, for one,” he said as he turned the blinds, flipping them closed so Rebecca couldn’t see us not stitching up my arm. “That way you don’t have to fucking lie to your mate.”

  Like I said before, it’s really hard to kill a shifter—damn near impossible if you don’t have a silver bullet. Earlier in the truck, I’d pretty much lied to Rebecca about not getting shot. I got shot plenty times over in Afghanistan and Iraq. With the nature of Pararescue, I was dropped into hot zones to retrieve pilots and destroy downed aircrafts. And they don’t call them hot zones because the temperature is high.

  But, when it had happened over there, I just told some white lies to my platoon buddies. It was blood from someone else, I’d twisted an ankle, I’d sprained my knee. I just needed to walk it off. Well, that last part wasn’t a lie; a good walk was pretty much all I really needed. Of course, if it was really bad, I needed more time or a shift into my wolf form. Either way, I’d normally be healed up by the end of the day.

  I wasn't over there, though, I was here. Which meant I wasn't lying to a medic or my platoon, I was lying to my mate. And that was something else entirely.

  I blinked my eyes slowly. “You're right,” I said, slowly. “No, you're right, boss.”

  “I’m your alpha,” he said as he dropped into his desk chair with a grunt and a wave of his hand, “of course I'm right.”

  I looked away, a little shame and redness spreading to my face. There was something about his tone. Ever since the year before, he’d been slowly losing control of his anger. In the last few months, it had escalated to the point where we’d all begun to notice it. Whatever it was, it bit hard and deep, causing me to feel like I was being scolded by my father.

  Maybe Peter saw the look on my face and realized what he sounded like. “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have used that tone or spoken that way.”

  “No, you’re right.” I turned and looked at him. I took a deep breath before continuing. “You’re completely right. I’ve fucked this whole thing up. Not the case, but the way I’m acting and going about everything. We both know it.”

  He looked at me, his eyes impassive, his jaw set. I could practically see the wheels spinning in his mind, slowly turning.

  “What?” I asked.

  He
just shook his head. “You know what you need to do, don’t you?” he asked, pausing for a moment. “You need to tell her. This is just going to be the first lie if you don't tell her what you are. What we are.”

  I sighed, sat back in the chair, and flexed my right arm a little. I’d felt awful leading Rebecca on the way I had, lying to her with my fake winces and bullshit grumbling. The wound on my bicep had healed before we even left Durango, but I sure as hell couldn’t tell her about that. I shook my head. “I hardly know her, boss. How do I just tell her about all this? About me?”

  “She’s your mate, Jones. She’ll understand what you are. It’s the way things work. Have the other guys had any problems?”

  “I’m not the other guys, though. I wasn’t raised by wolves or part of a pack. I don’t know how this works.”

  “Neither was Murdoch. Besides, you’re a shifter, same as them. The rules don’t suddenly stop applying because you weren’t raised by a pack. You found your mate and she found you. She’ll accept you no matter what. That’s just the way of the world.”

  “I don’t know, boss,” I said slowly. “I just can’t.”

  “You’re going to have to eventually. You can’t just live a life like that, where you try and hide your true self from her. She’s going to see through you.”

  “That’s part of what I’m worried about.”

  He gave me a wry smile. “That’s what every man is always worried about. Every woman, too, I think. That the people around us will figure out that we have to put on masks, pretend we’re something we’re not. But the only way we can really get close to other people is by understanding what we’ve got inside and being true to it no matter what.”

  He was right, even if I didn’t want to admit it. Part of the game is posturing, not revealing the inner details. My old CO always said if you weren’t afraid, you’d probably be dead soon. What mattered was whether or not you could function while you were afraid, or if you could keep going with the fear. Even brave men got afraid, but they kept going regardless. They continued doing what needed to be done, both for themselves and for the soldiers around them.

  Peter leaned forward on his desk. “Look, Jones,” he said, adopting that fatherly tone he sometimes took with Mary, “you made it through bootcamp; you became a Pararescuer; fought through Afghanistan, Iraq, and God only knows where else. You used to run into burning buildings with nothing but a coat and some oxygen, places filled with fire, one of the only things that can actually kill us. Hell, you ran in and saved those kids all those months ago, no protection, no nothing. Sure, it was stupid to expose yourself to possible media attention, but who gives a shit? You did what was right, fear be damned.”

  I nodded.

  “And now you’re scared of a woman you care about? Scared she’ll—what? Laugh at you? Not accept you? You got three guys out there as proof that women can love shifters when they see them in their true form. You need to just bite the bullet and do it.”

  “Know what, boss? You’re right. You’re completely right. Just as soon as this shit is over, I’ll tell her. No need to insert anymore drama into the situation.” I pointed to my bloody arm. “Especially not after this.”

  He nodded, even though I knew it was completely against his gut instinct. “Moving on,” he said, changing the subject, “let’s hear this recording you managed to get.”

  I pulled out my phone and brought up the recording with Reggie the Gap, passing it over to him when it was loaded. We listened in rapt silence.

  “Think it’s enough?” I asked after we’d listened to it for the second time.

  “As an admission of guilt?” he asked as he leaned back in his chair. “No. But the real question is: is it enough to get the charges on Zeke dropped and get him out of prison? Yeah, I think so. They may not be admitting guilt, not outright, but it’s hard to dispute that he’s assuming some responsibility for the fire. In addition to tacitly admitting to extortion and racketeering, among other things. I’ll call Peak when you leave and set up an appointment so you can meet with him tomorrow morning. Sound good?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, sounds good. Think we can pull Lacy off the case, too? Probably won’t need any information on the hard drive.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. But I think it’s better for us to be safe rather than sorry on this one. I’d rather have overwhelming doubt on the evidence they have, along with the recording. I think we’ll just come out stronger in the long run.”

  “Can’t disagree on that one,” I said. “I was a boy scout, after all. Always be prepared.”

  “Over prepared,” he agreed. “No sense in leaving any loose ends, especially since that’s what got Zeke into this mess in the first place.”

  “Got it.”

  “Guess that’s it,” Peter said, reaching to grab the phone.

  “Whoa there, boss,” I said. “You forgot one thing.”

  “What?”

  “You forgot why I came in here?” I pointed to my bloody shirtsleeve and bicep. “Still need a bandage.”

  He just shook his head as he got up from his seat. “Just so long as you remember you’re telling Rebecca as soon as all this is over.”

  A few minutes later, we’d swabbed the blood off my skin and wrapped it up so I looked part mummy.

  “I’ll text you the time of your meeting,” Peter said as I stood to leave. “And don’t forget what I told you. If you don’t come clean, she’s going to feel betrayed. That’s just the way things are.”

  I nodded as I pulled open the door and headed back towards the lobby. As I rounded the corner, I heard Rebecca’s chatter.

  “No, that’s what I’m telling you,” she said into her phone as I came around the corner, a wide smile on her face, “Matthew got some new evidence. Turns out it was that shifty guy from Durango like we were talking about.” She paused. “No, no, we’re going to meet with the sheriff and the deputy as soon as we can, see what we can do about getting my uncle out of prison.”

  She looked up at me as I stepped into the lobby. “A drink?” she asked into the phone, laughing a little as she rolled her eyes. “Oh, I don’t know.”

  I made a face, but just shrugged my shoulders. I wanted to tell her to stay away from him and bars for a while. It wasn’t that I disliked Derrick or thought he was going to be some kind of competition, but I needed Rebecca sober and refreshed the next morning. But it wasn’t like I owned her. And I never would.

  “No, after last night, I think I’m going to stay away from alcohol for a while. It’s been a really long day. Probably just gonna grab a bite to eat somewhere before I head home for the night.” Another pause. “Yeah, I’ll call you tomorrow after the meeting to let you know how it went.”

  “Peter’s setting up the meeting,” I said as she ended her call. “He’ll text me to confirm the time later. You up for dinner or anything? Or calling it a night?”

  “I could eat,” she said with a smile after checking the time on her phone. It was already evening, and the summer sun was setting behind the mountains. “How’s the arm?”

  I touched my arm, smiling what I thought was a wan smile. “Hurts a little still,” I said, instantly feeling bad for lying, “but Peter got me stitched up. Clean shot, so I shouldn’t need antibiotics or anything.”

  “Good,” she said, standing up. “Where do you want to eat?”

  “I was thinking Dixie’s.”

  She laughed and shook her head. “You know, there are other places in town besides Dixie’s. There’s that little Cajun place over on the other side of Main.”

  “Sure,” I said, shrugging. “Been a while since I had etouffee. Let me just grab my jacket and we’ll head out.”

  Chapter Twenty-four – Rebecca

  Dinner with Matthew was amazing. It wasn’t exactly romantic or seemed like a date, but it was still comfortable. Everything just seemed easier with him around. The conversation flowed easily, whether it was about random trivialities or about my life. We talked about my childhood a little,
about growing up with a drunk of a father. We talked a little about his, how he’d been raised by adopted parents, as we ate etouffee, dirty rice, and gumbo.

  Now, though, we were headed back to his pickup so he could give me a ride home. The stars stretched over us, a canopy of lights that seemed to open the whole world to exploration. Even with all the craziness going on today, with Matthew getting shot, and the nearly twelve hours on the road, it was the best I’d felt in weeks, maybe months. I couldn’t remember feeling better than right at that moment.

  “Still keep in touch with them?” I asked as we walked side-by-side down the sidewalk, my arms wrapped around my body against the chilly air. Stupid me, I hadn’t even brought a jacket. Typically it got down to the fifties overnight up here during the summer, but I hadn’t thought I’d be going out to dinner before I headed home.

  He made a face. “A little. I probably don’t go back to see them as much as I should, though. It’s just strange to live your whole life and then, all of a sudden, get told that you’re not like the rest of the kids in the family. That your brothers and sisters aren’t really your brothers and sisters, and that your parents aren’t really your biological parents. I mean, in retrospect, it made total sense. I served in the military and became a firefighter afterwards. My older sister’s a lawyer and my brother’s a professor of art history at Stanford of all places. I couldn’t be any more different from either of them.”

  I laughed. “Your parents still took care of you, though, right? Still loved you and clothed you?”

  He glanced down at me and saw the way I was hugging myself. He took his jacket off and draped it around my shoulders, saying, “They did. And I wouldn’t ever say different. Like I said, I love them, but we just have so many differences. Things they wouldn’t ever understand.”

  “Ever find your real mom or dad?” I asked as I pulled his jacket closer around my body, allowing it to engulf me and douse me with his wonderful scent.

  He frowned a little and shook his head. “My parents said they didn’t know anything about them, that I’d been dropped off.” I could tell as he spoke the words that they affected him deeply, that he didn’t normally open up this way to people about this.