Shadow Point Deputy

by Julie Anne Lindsey

  West dropped into view at Cole’s side. “Evidence?”

  “The pen,” she gasped, stretching an arm off the opposite side of the dock. Dark locks of wet hair clung to her cheeks and neck. “Help!” She scooted on her belly, attempting to reach a bobbing portion of the silver metal in the water.

  “Careful.” Cole grabbed Rita’s hips before she spilled back into the water. Pain licked his neck and shoulders, fresh cuts and burns protesting the sudden move. “That’s not the one you gave me.”

  “What pen?” West asked. His long shadow wobbled on the waves.

  “Got it.” Rita backed herself onto the boards beside him. “It’s ruined.” She held the broken pen daintily between her thumb and forefinger. Heavy tears hung in her sweet hazel eyes. “Why can’t one single thing go right for us?”

  Cole took a seat at her side. He liked the way she said “us” a little more than he should. At least he had good news. “The pen you gave me is still locked in the cruiser’s glove box. I planned to deliver it into evidence when we went to the station.” He hadn’t expected the day would take any of the turns it had. Though the kiss they’d shared nearly made up for being shot at.

  Rita blew out a long breath. “Oh, thank goodness. So, at least we still have that.” She dropped her hands into her lap and leaned her shoulder against his.

  West’s face popped into view. He squatted before them in sheriff mode “I need to know about the pen. Now, please.” He took the impostor pen from Rita’s hands and twisted it in half. Where a tube of ink should have been, there was a small metal rectangle attached to the pen’s top. “A thumb drive?”

  Cole’s mind jerked into action. Rita had been right to mistake the item in West’s hands for the one she’d given him in a plastic baggie. The two were identical. And if the pen in West’s hand was a thumb drive... A smile etched Cole’s face. What about the one in his glove box?

  Rita was on her feet, pacing before him and waving her hands as she delivered the blow-by-blow to West. “It was just lying there by the blood on the docks the night Minsk was killed, so I put it in my purse. Then I gave it to Cole.”

  Cole stretched to his full height with a grunt. “Let’s go see if all those pens were made equally.”

  West rolled his shoulders back and took long sheriff-like strides as he led the way to the parking lot.

  Cole grabbed Rita’s hand and fell in line behind his brother. He laced his fingers with hers and struggled not to limp as he kept pace. “This guy kept a clean laptop. Saved files to secret devices. Hid paperwork on a boat. Makes me think he knew he was in trouble.”

  West grunted. “Minsk probably thought the files were enough insurance to preserve his life. He was the only one who knew where they were, so in theory, his killer should’ve had to keep him alive if they wanted the information.”

  Rita squeezed Cole’s hand. “If there are files on that pen and the information is worth stalking me, tossing my house and trying repeatedly to murder me, then I bet the killer’s name is one of the things you’ll find.”

  Cole broke into a painful jog, easily bypassing West. He couldn’t rewind time and save Minsk, but he could bring the killer to justice and make sure that guy never got anywhere near Rita again.

  Chapter Eleven

  West held the plastic baggie from Cole’s glove box with reverence. “This is the best thing I’ve seen in days.” He handed the precious cargo to Cole while he snapped plastic gloves over his hands. “Here’s hoping,” he said, peeling the bag open and fishing the pen from its tissue cocoon.

  West gripped the device on both ends and twisted. The pieces came easily apart. “Hot damn.” Just like the busted pen in the river, this, too, was only a clever disguise for a thumb drive. He raised wide eyes to Cole. “I’m going to deliver this to the lab myself.”

  “Good idea,” Cole agreed. No sense letting the only known piece of evidence out of his sight. Who knew what sort of information Tech Support would find on that tiny drive? “We’re going back to my place. We’ll meet you at the station after a hot shower and change of clothes.”

  West slid his eyes in Rita’s direction, then back to Cole. “All right. If I’m not there, give me a call. I’ve still got a crime scene at Minsk’s house and that mess over there to deal with.” He hooked a thumb toward the capsizing boat.

  Cole checked his watch. The face was cracked, but the second hand was ticking. “If I can get there before it closes, I’ll swing by the municipal building. Maybe someone knows who Minsk had been visiting. I’d like to know exactly what he was up to during his last few days.”

  West tucked the baggie into the pocket of his sheriff’s coat. “Lots to do. We’d better roll.”

  Cole nodded goodbye to his brother before opening the passenger door.

  Rita inched closer but didn’t climb in.

  Sparks of electricity charged the air between them, and for a minute, he allowed himself to imagine Rita kissing him again. This time in front of half the gawking town instead of hidden in his car behind an empty church. Maybe she could somehow still see him as a hero, even after she’d had to save him when he blacked out.

  Rita kicked the toe of her sodden shoe against the ground, her pretty hazel eyes focused completely on the earth. “I’m sorry you were hurt.”

  The punch to his chest couldn’t have hit any deeper. He’d failed her today, and she was as sorry about it as he was. Before he could find the words to apologize, she dropped into the car and pulled her feet inside.

  * * *

  RITA MENTALLY KICKED herself all the way back to Cole’s house. I’m sorry you were hurt? Of all the things racing through her mind, that was what she’d chosen to say? Worse, he’d looked at her like she’d slapped him when she said it, so she’d avoided speaking for the duration of the drive. Unfortunately, she wouldn’t be able to hide much longer.

  Cole settled the cruiser’s engine in his driveway and climbed out.

  This wasn’t like a random blind date where she could go home and put her awkward words behind her. She was practically living with Cole, at least until further notice, and he rarely let her out of his sight. After the shoot-out at Minsk’s house, she imagined her alone time would be relegated to bathroom breaks.

  She hustled onto the porch behind him and waited while he unlocked the door.

  Cole ushered her inside and locked up. After a quick sweep of the house, he returned with a stack of dry clothes and a towel. “How about that shower?”

  Rita’s cheeks heated. She looked away in case he could somehow read the explicit thoughts racing through her mind. “You should go first. You’re hurt.”

  Cole’s brows knit together. His mouth curled down. “Please stop saying that.”

  “Why? You are hurt.” She crossed her arms to stop the tremor building in her gut. Blood had risen in the water as she kept him afloat. She’d seen the gashes on his shoulders, could only imagine the burns on his back or what it looked like now that Cole’s uncle had stitched and cleaned him up. The replacement shirt he’d taken, to keep dirty, river-soaked clothes off newly tended wounds, was already patchy with spots of blood and ointment.

  Bottom line: Cole was hurt. And it was because of her. “A boat exploded thirty feet away from us. My ears are still ringing, and I feel as if I was hit by a truck even though there’s barely a mark on me. You, on the other hand...” She left the sentence undone. Where could she even begin? He’d played human shield and nearly paid for it with his life. “Stop saying everything’s fine.” Endless stacks of emotions piled heavily on her heart, demanding to be heard. Tears stung her eyes and her nose burned. “This is not fine!”

  She couldn’t stop the sharp sob that broke from her lips. The sound came without warning. Rita clamped a hand over her mouth and turned on her heels for the bathroom where she could drown her worries in a hot shower and wash the stink of river water away. “Excu
se me,” she cried on her way down the hall. “I have to call Mrs. Wilcox and check on my cats.”

  She reemerged thirty minutes later, fresh out of tears and ways to fix her puffy eyes. Clean, dry and dressed in her favorite white cotton top and pale gray leggings, she felt almost normal. With any luck, she didn’t look like the same frantic nut who’d gone into the bathroom half an hour before.

  Her mouth watered as she padded down the short hallway toward the kitchen. The house outside the bathroom smelled like heaven.

  Cole stood at the stove, shirtless, pushing sliced peppers, onions and mushrooms around a pan. Rice boiled in the pot beside him. He flicked a troubled gaze her way. “How was the shower?”

  “Good.” She leaned against the counter behind him in the narrow space, examining the angry red burns and other assorted injuries on his back and shoulders. Beneath today’s cuts and burns, a palette of heavy scars rose in permanent welts. Shrapnel. Rita knew those scars well. She’d lived on a dozen army bases growing up, and too many men had similar war wounds. Some had much worse. And they were still the lucky ones because they’d made it home.

  Rita had known that Cole was a veteran, but she’d never considered that this wasn’t his first run-in with a bomb. “Your uncle gave me everything I need to change your bandages after your shower.”

  Cole froze for a beat, then went busily back to work at the stove. “Hungry?”

  Her tummy rumbled audibly. “Yes.”

  Cole removed the sauté pan from the stove top and drained the rice before turning to face her for the first time since she’d walked in on him shirtless and cooking. He’d traded his wet socks and uniform pants for bare feet and basketball shorts. The shorts hung dangerously low on his torso, daring her eyes to follow the path of dark hair from his belly button to where it disappeared beneath his waistband.

  When she finally found the strength to pry her curious eyes off his body, Cole was staring.

  “Everything okay?” he asked through a playful grin.

  “Mmm-hmm.” She pressed her lips together in embarrassment.

  “Good.” He inhaled deeply. “How are your cats?”

  “Fine. Mrs. Wilcox is meeting all their demands.”

  Cole grinned. “I made dinner, but I should confess first. There’s an ulterior motive behind it.”

  Rita felt her eyebrows rise to the ceiling.

  “I think we should talk about some of the things that happened today,” he said.

  “Okay.”

  Cole rubbed the back of his neck, making his chest appear doubly broad. He winced. His arm lowered at a much slower pace than he’d used to raise it. Frustration changed his gentle expression into something resembling the face he’d worn on the docks.

  “Why were you angry when you woke in the water?” Rita bit her tongue once the words were out. She hadn’t meant to ask so abruptly, but she had to know. She’d upset him somehow and deserved to know what happened.

  Cole shifted his weight and let his arms drop to his sides. “I wasn’t angry.”

  “Yes,” she argued. “You were. You barely spoke to me the whole time we were on the dock. You snapped at your uncle when he tried to help you. I don’t know what I did that made you so mad, but I’m sorry.”

  Cole crossed his arms and waited. A mask of patience replaced the frustration she’d seen on him earlier.

  The more she spoke, the bolder she felt. “Was it because you had to throw me off the boat? Because I panicked and I couldn’t move.” Cole wasn’t arguing his side, interrupting or diminishing her position. He was listening. And she loved it. “I knew I needed to run, but I couldn’t.”

  He reached for her cheek, brushing away another determined tear. “I wasn’t angry with you. I was disappointed in myself. You needed me to protect you, and I failed.”

  “You were hit with the fiery hull of an exploding boat. It’s not like you were home watching the game.”

  He laughed, and the room seemed brighter. “A blackout is no excuse.”

  “You saved my life again,” she said. “So what if I got to help you out, too?”

  “It’s my job to protect you. Not the other way around.” He turned back to the stove and plated the rice and veggies. “You don’t have to take care of everyone all the time. I don’t want you looking at me like I’m your little brother. I don’t want to be parented.”

  Anger pinched her chest. “I wasn’t parenting you. I kissed you! You think I want to kiss my brother?”

  He pushed heaping plates of rice and veggies onto the island beside two glasses of ice water, napkins and silverware. “Eat. You haven’t had anything all day, and you’re shaking.”

  Rita moved to a stool at the counter. “Who’s the parent now?”

  “Not me.” He exhaled the words. “I’m the little brother who should’ve been a doctor.”

  Rita let the words settle in. “Do you really think that, or are you just repeating the things your brother and uncle said today?”

  Cole wiped his hands on a towel and tossed the cloth onto his counter. “I don’t regret being a deputy. I was meant to do this, and they know it. I only tried medical school because it made my parents happy. When I left the military, they wanted to see me do something safe, but I’m not a doctor, I’m a lawman.” He locked her in his stare. “This is who I am.”

  “I like who you are,” Rita whispered.

  Cole made a move in her direction, his smart blue eyes never leaving hers. “I can protect you.”

  Rita wet her lips. “I know.”

  A small smile tugged his lips. “Since you’re going to be staying here, I think we need some rules.”

  She forced herself to breathe. His slow, predatory walk was churning her thoughts into mush. “We do?”

  “My house. My rules. Ready?”

  “Um.”

  “First, you’re my guest. That means I make the meals, shower second and sleep on the couch. You get the bed, hot water and as many of my meals as you can tolerate.”

  Rita bit her lip against the argument on her tongue. Cole had let her talk when she needed to. It was her turn to listen.

  “Second, you’re under my protection now, so if something else blows up, it’s not going to be you. And if I get knocked out again, don’t baby me. Just slap my face and tell me to wake the hell up and get back to work.”

  Rita laughed. “Fine. Did you really go to Stanford?”

  Cole took the seat at her side, stuffing the next closest bar stool beneath him. “For a minute.”

  “Impressive.”

  He forked a pile of peppers before lifting a broad and youthful smile to her. “You think so?”

  “Yeah.”

  He stuffed the bite into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “You like smart guys. I figured. Suit-and-tie guys with loafers and 401Ks.”

  “What?” Rita laughed, nearly losing the mouthful of delicious dinner. “No. I mean, not no, but not only suits. I’m a very nondiscriminatory dater. Or I would be if anyone ever asked me out. No one asks.”

  “What?” Cole dropped his fork onto his plate. His mouth hung open briefly before curving into a disbelieving smile. “No one asks, or you never say yes?”

  “Both, I guess, but mostly the first one.”

  “Why?” he pressed, inexplicably mystified.

  “I can be a little distrusting,” she admitted, “and I didn’t want the distraction while Ryan was living with me. Now that he’s on his own, I’m a little older and a lot of folks are married.”

  “I’m not married.”

  Rita’s smile widened. “Well, Dad warned me about dating soldiers.”

  Cole grinned. “Yeah?”

  “That’s what he said, which is silly because he’s a general. Though, in hindsight, it probably saved him a lot of trouble considering my high school years were spent on a se
ries of army bases.”

  “Your dad sounds like a wise man.”

  “Really? I expected you to disagree.”

  “Why? Because I was a soldier?” Cole faced her. “I’m actually a huge fan of whatever has kept you single this long.”

  Rita poked her dinner, unable to eat with so much nervous energy raging inside her. “I think I was waiting for someone special. A man with brains and brawn. A hero’s heart. A strong sense of justice and ties to the community.”

  Cole slid onto his feet, crowding her personal space. “That’s a hefty list.”

  He grabbed her hips and turned her to face him.

  Rita’s knees parted on instinct, making room for him to get closer.

  “Anything else?” Cole widened his stance, bringing him marginally closer to her height.

  She craned her neck for a better look at his handsome face. “Yeah.”

  Heat from his bare chest radiated out to her, and the look in his eyes turned her bones into putty.

  She braced her hands on his shoulders, then slid her open palms against his neck, tracing the strong line of his jaw with her thumbs. “My dream guy would know when to kiss me.”

  Cole’s smiling lips were instantly on hers. Soft and testing at first, then heavy and urging.

  She wound her fingers into his hair and hooked an ankle behind his leg, nudging him closer. The little gasp that burst from her lips was met with a low, sexy growl.

  The day had just gotten a whole lot better.

  Until the ringing landline stilled his mouth on hers.

  Cole froze, tightening his fingers on her hips as if she might disappear.

  “Do you have to get that?” she asked, hoping desperately he’d decide to carry her to his room instead of taking the call. She’d been replaying their earlier kiss since she’d taken one look at him making her dinner. Shirtless. Could it get any better? Her body responded to his so easily, melding into his touch and matching him, heat for heat, as if this was just one more in a lifetime of shared kisses instead of only their second.