by Jen Talty
“You’ve never met the quota,” Blaine called as the door slammed shut.
And Mason probably never would.
He glanced across the street and stared at the storefront for Destiny’s party planning business. Of all the places she could have picked to live, she chose a town so small that he couldn’t imagine how her business would survive. If she had moved to Dade County, or a big city, she would kill it.
But Thief Lake in the middle of nowhere Minnesota?
He wasn’t so sure.
Destiny stepped onto the sidewalk and headed south. Her purse was tucked under her arm, and her heels clicked against the concrete.
All Mason noticed was the way her hips swayed like a soft breeze.
He groaned as he got behind the wheel of his patrol car. Destiny was way out of his league, and he knew it.
She stopped and glanced inside the pet store. A bunch of puppies raced to the window, wagging their tails.
After watching her disappear into the diner, Mason eased out onto Main Street and headed toward the back alley behind the shops on the other side of the street. When he’d been a kid, he used to hang out in the exact same spot. At night, they often had bonfires and drank and even on occasion, they’d smoke a little weed.
He would have thought the kids would have found a new place by now.
Turning down the side street, he parked behind one of the dumpsters. To the right, in a clump of trees, he could see the boys sitting on the same old tree trunk. Red flares glowed through the bushes, and the smell of pot filled his nostrils.
But what caught his attention was the faint whisper of someone crying. He eased into the wooded area, flanking the boys from the back. He’d learned this from Toby’s father when he’d been the chief of police and busted him and his buddies for drinking one Friday night because he and his friends weren’t smart enough to think anyone would enter the area from this direction.
His heart seized when his gaze landed on a teenage girl with disheveled hair. She sat on the ground with her knees to her chest and her arms wrapped tightly around her legs.
“Stop crying,” one of the boys said.
“Leave her alone,” another boy said. “She’s been through enough.”
“You shouldn’t have brought her,” Jake said before taking a long drag from a pipe. He coughed a couple of times as smoke poured out of his mouth. “And if her dad finds out, we’re all dead.”
“Right, like my dad is going to hurt you,” the girl whispered.
Fuck. Whoever this girl was, she didn’t live in Thief Lake, but she needed his help. Mason quickly pulled out his cell and texted Blaine. While he’d love more than anything to bust Jake for possession, even if wasn’t enough to haul the boy down to the station and charge him, it might scare him enough so that he’d think twice about his life.
But that might have to wait because the second he showed himself, those boys would run. He lifted the clasp on his weapon and drew.
“Party’s over, boys.” Mason stepped into the clearing with his gun at the ready.
Jake bolted upright.
“I wouldn’t go anywhere if I were you,” Mason said.
“Please. You’re not going to shoot me.” Jake narrowed his stare. Rage filled his blue eyes.
“Probably not. But I can book you on possession.”
“There’s not enough weed here for you to make it stick,” Jake said, his tone laced with the kind of anger that ate at a person’s soul.
“Maybe so, and frankly, I don’t give a shit about the pot. I want to know what happened to the girl. So, everyone take a seat while we wait for the chief to show up.”
“I’m out of here.” Jake turned on his heels. “And you can’t make me stay.”
“No, but I will come find you. Now sit, son.”
“Fuck you. You’re not my father.” Jake took off running toward the back door of the diner.
Mason tapped his mic. “Jake’s making a run for it through the diner. I’ve got a situation out here. Might need an ambulance.”
“No!” The girl lifted her head, showing off a black eye and a bruised and bloody cheek. “You can’t do that. I’m fine.”
Mason knelt in front of the girl. “Who did this to you? Was it one of these boys?”
She shook her head wildly.
“No, sir. It wasn’t us,” one of the boys said. “It’s her stepfather.”
“Shut up!” the girl cried out, tears rolling down her face.
“Did you see him hit her, son?” Mason asked.
“He didn’t, but I did,” another boy said. “He’s done it before, and he beats her mother.”
“Are you trying to get me killed?” the girl said.
“Your friends are trying to help you.” Mason noted her right pupil was dilated. Could be drugs. Could be a concussion. “What’s your name?”
“It’s Rhonda Snider,” one of the boys said.
She pursed her lips. “You just put a nail in my coffin.”
Mason might consider that over the top. Her father, Trip Snider, was known for bar-brawling antics. He’d been picked up in every town for a hundred-mile radius. He’d gone to jail for three months and had just recently been paroled. The last Mason had heard, he was pretending to have turned over a new leaf, but Mason didn’t believe it.
“Where’s your dad now?” Mason asked.
“He should be heading to the airport soon. Something about some bigwig coming into town that will change his life,” she admitted as she wiped her mascara-streaked face.
“And where is your mom?”
“I don’t know. Home, I suppose.”
“Has your mother ever reported him?” Mason asked.
The girl nodded.
“Good. I’m going to make sure he never hurts you or your mother again, but I need you to trust me, okay?”
“Why would I trust you?” Her lashes blinked wildly over her bloodshot eyes.
“A good buddy of mine does work with getting victims of abuse away from their abusers. I’m going to give him a call and make sure we set you and your mom up in a safe place.”
“And what about my stepdad? He gets to roam free? He’ll find us, you know.”
“You and your mom can press charges, but in the meantime, my priority is to get you in a safe place.”
The young girl shook her head. “He’ll find us, and this,” she waved a hand across her bruised face, “won’t look so bad because he’ll do a whole lot worse.”
Mason held up his phone. “I’m going to put this on speaker, that way you can hear everything.” He pulled up Tim’s phone number. He’d served in the military with Tim. His wife, Sally, happened to be the FBI agent who had mentioned Trip was on her radar.
It rang twice.
“Well, I’ll be damned. Ho-rah.”
“Ho-rah,” Mason said. “I need a favor.”
“Of course you do,” Tim said.
The beep of the siren from the fire department rang five times. Mason glanced around. He had only a few minutes to put this in motion.
Mason kept his gaze locked with Rhonda’s. Tears streamed down the sides of her face. One of the young men looped his arm around her shoulders and held her close.
“I’ve got a domestic that needs special attention.”
“Who? What? And why?” Tim had always been direct. Sometimes too direct, but it was a trait Mason appreciated.
“A teenager and her mom. The girl needs medical attention first.”
“All right. Have her sent to my shelter. Have her mom meet us there. I’ll take care of them.”
“Thanks, man.” Mason tapped the screen. “I’m going to call one of my officers to go get your mom, okay?”
“Please don’t tell her about the weed,” Rhonda said.
The microphone crackled on his shoulder.
“Mason, we’ve got a situation in here,” Blaine said. “I need you to come to the front of the diner and don’t use the back door.”
“I’ve got t
o wait for the ambulance, which should be here in three.” Mason glanced down the alleyway just as the paramedic engine rounded the corner. “Let’s consider this a warning, all right?”
“For all of us?” one of the boys asked.
“Yes.” He lifted the girl’s chin. “You’ve got some good friends here, but now you’re going to have to trust Tim. He saved my life once, so you’re in good hands.”
The paramedics jumped from the ambulance and raced over.
Mason stood, securing his weapon. “You’re going to take her to the Windsor Home. Her mother is meeting her there, and Tim Windsor will make sure she gets the medical attention she needs.”
The paramedics nodded quickly, then went to attend to the young girl.
Mason tapped his mic. “On my way.” Though he had no idea why he couldn’t use the back entrance.
As he drove around the block, he noticed one of the other officers, Grey Bowen, inching his way down the alley between the diner and the jewelry store. Once around to the front, he saw his boss standing on the sidewalk next to Toby, minus a baby.
“What’s going on, boss?”
Blaine pointed. “It seems our boy Jake got into an altercation with one of the waitresses as he tried to steal a couple of tips.”
“So, why are we standing out here?”
“Because he’s holding a knife to the waitress’ throat.”
“Excuse me. Are you Destiny Baker?”
Destiny glanced over the rim of her water glass. A woman with long blonde hair, silky porcelain skin, and a toddler on her hip stood at the end of the table.
“I am,” Destiny said, wondering how the hell this woman knew her name.
“My husband is the chief of police, and he got your information from his assistant. I’m trying to put together a birthday party for this little girl, and I’m failing miserably.”
“I’m happy to go over my rates with you.” Destiny waved her hand. “Feel free to join me.”
“I can’t right this second. I’ve got a doctor’s appointment, but maybe I could give you a call around lunchtime?”
“Give me a call whenever you’re ready. When is the party?”
Kaylee cringed. “This weekend.”
Destiny coughed. “That’s a tall order.”
“I know.” Kaylee let out a long sigh. “I’d understand if it’s—”
“No. No. It’s fine. Let’s sit down and talk and see what we can come up with.”
“Thanks.”
The back door of the diner rattled, and a boy raced in. He skidded to a stop about five feet from Kaylee.
“Hello, Jake,” Kaylee said.
“Hi, Mrs. Walker,” Jake grunted as he looked around with a nervous twitch.
“It was nice meeting you, Destiny.” Kaylee nodded. “Say hello to your mom for me, okay Jake?” Kaylee pushed open the door.
“Daddy!” the little girl exclaimed just as the door slammed shut.
“If you’re not going to sit down and order something you can pay for, you have to leave,” the waitress said, standing in front of Jake with one hand on her hip.
Jake dug into his pocket and pulled out a five-dollar bill and grinned.
“Shall I get you a coke to go?” the waitress asked sarcastically.
“You’re a bitch,” Jake said under his breath.
Destiny closed her eyes for a long moment and took in a deep, calming breath. Her old self would make a snide comment or even get in the kid’s face for being disrespectful. But Destiny Baker needed to learn to keep her mouth closed. She blinked open her eyes and sliced into her steak. Holding the knife in her left hand, she raised her right and savored the fresh meat.
In a flash, someone snagged the knife from her hand, nicking her skin.
“Hey, what the hell?” She sucked on the side of her index finger.
The waitress gaped, and the sweet old lady sitting across from her clutched her cross dangling from her neck.
All she wanted was a cup of coffee, two eggs over easy, wheat toast, a hunk of medium rare meat, and a couple pieces of crispy bacon before heading to the cottage to unpack and start her new life. Keeping a low profile had been the goal.
But in her first two hours in town, she’d managed to make friends with a cop and get stuck in the middle of some stupid pimply teenage boy holding her steak knife to some woman’s neck.
She kept her head down as she stared at her plate of food that was getting colder by the second. The last thing she wanted to do was draw attention to herself, or make matters worse, but damn, she couldn’t idly sit by and do nothing.
A handsome Native American man wearing jeans, a black shirt, and a large belt buckle with a gun holster attached to it pushed open the door, holding his hands in the air. “Jake, put the knife down.”
“Are you going to let me walk out of here and go about my day?” Jake asked.
“You know that’s not how this is going to go down. However, let her go now, and things will go much better for you.”
“Trust me kid, do what the man says. I’m sure they will cut you some slack,” she said, wishing she’d kept her big fat mouth closed.
“Shut up, or I’ll slit her throat.” Jake pressed the ridges of the knife harder into the waitress’ skin.
“What will it take for you to let Arlene free?” Blaine asked.
“Only way I do that is if I know for sure you won’t arrest me.” Nervously, Jake glanced over his shoulder.
He was going to make a run for it. Hopefully not using Arlene as a shield.
“This just got worse for you.” She held up her fork and pointed toward the door where Mason stood next to the other cop with his hands in the air.
“If you don’t leave now, I’ll cut her, I swear to God.”
Destiny had mastered bluffing, and she could smell it on other people. This boy didn’t want to hurt Arlene, but Destiny could tell he was high and that meant it would be difficult to predict his next move.
“We’ll step outside, but only if you promise to let her go,” Mason said.
“And you’ll let me go?”
“For now,” Mason said.
“Okay.” Jake’s hand visibly shook.
Mason and his cop friend backed out of the diner.
The kid shoved the waitress to the floor and took off running toward the back entrance.
Without making too much fuss, Destiny pushed her foot out from under the table. Seconds later, the boy hit the tile floor with a bang.
Followed by a bloodcurdling scream.
She looked down at him. Blood trickled from his nose and mouth. A stray tooth sat only a few inches from her heels. She stabbed her eggs and popped them in her mouth as the sexy cop she’d met an hour earlier and his sidekick came crashing through the door.
“Are you okay?” Mason asked the waitress, who nodded like a bobblehead on the dashboard of a Jeep driving through the jungle.
“That bitch tripped me.” Jake pointed at Destiny as the other cop hoisted him to his feet. “She did it on purpose. I’m going to sue you.”
“You were threating to kill someone, son.” Mason glanced in her direction with his hands firmly planted on his hips. “You went too far, Jake. This time you won’t be getting off with a slap on the wrist.”
The other cop read the boy his rights before taking him out the front door. Destiny raised her coffee mug and sipped, contemplating using the code word to get the hell out of Dodge. Only, her life wasn’t in any real danger. Lucas and his buddies hadn’t found her. She was safe.
But if one more person thanked her for her bravery, she was going to scream. The only good thing that could come out of that was the potential of gaining new business, but not at the cost of having her five minutes of fame in small-town nowhere.
“Mind if I sit?” Mason asked.
She shoved her plate to the side. “Not at all.” Wonderful. Now she had no control over her mouth.
“Everyone says you’re a real hero.”
�
�I didn’t do anything.”
Mason laughed. “Is that your story?”
She nodded.
“I saw you trip him. Which, by the way, you didn’t need to do because we had the back door covered with another cop.”
“He stepped into my foot. I didn’t move.” She held Mason’s gaze.
His blue eyes twinkled like stars in the night sky. His half-smile showed a kindness that drew her in. “I’m going to need to take your statement,” he said, clearing his throat. “And while what you did is commendable, next time, let me do my job.”
She cocked her head, biting down on her tongue. One thing Lucas had taught her while she was running poker tables was to never, ever get into it with a player. In this case, Mason was the player, and she should just nod and promise to keep her head down.
“I saw an opening, and I took it.”
“That boy is a loose cannon, and this could have gone down very differently, so next time—”
“There won’t be a next time.” She snagged her bill, tossing a five on the table for a tip. “And I don’t need a lecture. I’m a big girl, thank you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go unpack.” With as much grace as she could muster, she stood and made her way to the register, all the while feeling his gaze burning a hole in her back.
She didn’t know what was worse.
The fact that he’d treated her like a child, something Lucas used to do.
Or the fact that all she wanted to do was get him out of that damn uniform.
2
“How are they doing?” Mason leaned against his patrol car, folding his arms across his chest. It was early afternoon, and he felt like he’d been on a forty-eight-hour shift.
“Mom is waffling about leaving, but Rhonda has made it clear to her mother she will not stay another day under the same roof with her stepfather. Since Rhonda is sixteen, we can easily help her become emancipated. I told her mom that if we did that, she could potentially never see her daughter again.” Tim ran a hand down his face, his thumb and forefinger coming to a close at his chin.
