by Connie Mann
Even as he told him himself that for the tenth time, she shifted back slightly in his arms so she could see his face. His hands settled at her waist, and he pulled her closer, ran his hands over that sleek back and down her very sexy butt. Their eyes met. Held, and the mix of vulnerability and strength in hers was almost his undoing. Especially since she was looking at him as though he were a mirage that had suddenly appeared after a long, dusty trek through an endless desert. And she was ready for a deep drink.
Electricity crackled and sparked between them, and his hands reached up to cup her smooth cheeks, run his thumbs over the soft skin. Time stretched and froze, and before he could force himself to move away from the temptation in her beautiful eyes, she slowly leaned forward and lightly brushed her lips over his.
The contact shocked him like a jolt from a Taser, and his hold on her tightened. Their lips met again, and the fire burst into flame. She made a sound at the back of her throat and opened her lips wider. He plunged his tongue inside, wanting more of her sweet taste. More of her heat. When she wrapped her arms around his waist and plastered her curves to his, reality slapped him. Hard. She wasn’t ready for this. They weren’t ready for this. The timing sucked.
It took every ounce of his self-control to take that one necessary step back, to put some distance between them. Her eyes blinked open, wide and confused. His hands didn’t want to let go, so he backed up another step for good measure, until he could breathe again.
A flush climbed Charlee’s cheeks, and she turned and straightened some mail, not meeting his eyes. But somehow, her self-consciousness just made him want her more.
No. Absolutely not. He couldn’t let himself get close, couldn’t get involved with Charlee, especially not now, while they were in the middle of a case. She mattered too much. His feelings for her could distract him, cause tunnel vision. And if that happened, people died. He wouldn’t risk that with her. He touched Johnny’s bracelet, put the barriers firmly back around his heart. Johnny’s death would always remind him of what happened if he let emotions cloud his judgment. He would never make that mistake again.
He scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck, took a deep breath. “You can sit in on the meeting, but you need to let us do our jobs.” Really, could he have made a more idiotic statement?
Her eyes met his, and her expression went hard. “Right. Civilian. Murder investigation.”
She whirled around and would have slipped past him, but he stopped her with a light touch on her arm. “You’re beautiful, Charlee. And you make me crazy.”
“I’m not anyone’s toy.”
His eyebrows shot to his hairline. Where had that come from? Rick? “No, you’re a lady who should be treated as such by a man who will treat you right.”
She tossed her head and kept walking.
He let her go. Distance, he reminded himself. Professional distance. Friendship.
Charlee had no idea how sexy she was. She was smart and strong, but she was also picket fences, babies, and forever. The one woman he sensed could change his life forever. If he let her. Which he could never risk, certainly not in the middle of a case. No matter how strong the pull.
He would protect Charlee. And he had a killer to catch.
If she made him feel things he’d never felt before, he’d ignore it. It was better that way. Safer for their friendship, safer for his relationship with her brothers, altogether safer for his heart.
* * *
Charlee paced her bedroom, trying to gather her scattered wits. What had she been thinking, throwing herself at Hunter again? Hadn’t she learned her lesson about macho males with Rick? And Hunter had backed away like she was a live grenade. Fine. Whatever. They were friends, good friends. Actually, the best friend she’d ever had. Around him, she felt like she could be herself, without fear of judgment. If lately he looked at her with the same growing hunger she felt for him, it was better, safer, if they both ignored it. She didn’t want to lose the ease between them, the closeness, by behaving like an idiot. She took several deep breaths and walked back out to the living room.
He looked up from his laptop, expression carefully blank. “You up to some more questions?”
She could pretend, too. She sank down on the sofa, since the annoying dizziness still hit at odd times. “Ask away.”
“Did you sense any hostility toward Brittany or Wyatt from Paul Harris?”
Charlee considered. “No. He came across as a divorced dad trying to do right by his teenagers—neither of whom wanted to be around him, which is typical. Brittany liked playing the martyr, and Wyatt hid behind his video games. There was anger on Brittany’s side.” She thought about it. “Wyatt’s, too, given the way he avoids his father. I worry there’s some abuse, but I’m having trouble seeing Paul in that role. I got the sense that the three had once been close, and Paul was desperate to regain that. I can’t picture him trying to kill either one of them.”
Hunter nodded. “What about Oliver Dunn? Besides his stalker vibe, anything else stand out to you?”
Charlee looked away, then met his gaze. “Honestly, I just tried to avoid him. But he tried to help Paul connect with his kids, to engage them in conversation, make jokes.”
“How did Paul feel about that?”
Charlee searched her memory. “At first, he didn’t look happy, but after a while, they all seemed to be having a good time.”
“Where did Oliver say he was from?”
“If he said, I don’t remember. I was only focused on two things: making sure everyone had a good time and getting them all back safely.”
“And surviving the one-year anniversary,” Hunter added, brow raised, though he hadn’t asked a question.
She swallowed hard. “Right, get through the day and convince my family I was fine.”
“They care—”
She held up a hand. “I know. Which is why I don’t want to add to their burdens. Next question.”
“Why do you think someone shot at you and Brittany?”
“Shooting at me, I get. But Brittany? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Not to us. But it does to whoever did it. We’ll work every angle until we can see the whole picture.”
It was how an investigation worked. But this was different. Personal. A young girl was dead, and it had something to do with Charlee. She had to think. She walked into her bedroom without a word and put on her tennis shoes, running shorts, and tank, and strapped a knife to her ankle. She passed through the living room and said to Hunter, “Let’s go for a walk. I need to clear my head.”
“Give me two minutes.” He returned in running clothes, gun at his back, and motioned for her to precede him.
Every fiber of her being wanted to go by herself and escape the tingly awareness whenever he was near. But she wasn’t stupid. “I need to process, so keep up.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Hunter grinned as they set out at a fast walk.
Just being outside, moving, helped settle her mind. Hunter kept pace without a word, and she couldn’t decide if that was good or bad. The way his T-shirt stuck to his skin and outlined his chest messed with her equilibrium, and the silence made her want to fill it. But she kept quiet, thinking about the case. She had to keep her priorities straight.
By the time they got back, she felt much more settled, but she was still glad to head for the shower and escape his nearness. When she walked back into the living room, she was surprised to find him alone.
“Where is everyone?”
She leaned over his shoulder as he checked the CAD log, which showed GPS coordinates of each officer’s whereabouts. He pointed to a spot on the map where Sanchez’s and Fish’s call signs were clustered together on a call. For some reason, Josh was there, too. She knew his call sign. Hunter opened the details tab and read the call description out loud. “Resident claims there’s a large gator in his yard and as
ked for help to remove it.”
Charlee’s eyes widened at the address. “That’s Rick’s place.”
“That’s what I thought.” He dialed his cell phone. “Let’s see if Pete is there, too.” The sheriff’s department had their own system, so Pete’s location wouldn’t show up on Hunter’s screen. “He’s not picking up.”
Charlee was already by the front door, sliding her feet back into her tennis shoes. Rick lived out in the woods, and she never wore flip-flops when she went there. His grass always needed cutting, which meant there could be snakes.
Hunter notified dispatch he was heading to that location and then didn’t say anything more, though his irritation grew with every mile.
“Cell service is always sketchy out there,” she began, but he shot her a look that made her swallow the rest of her words.
“Don’t make excuses for them, Charlee. That’s not your job, and they don’t deserve it.”
She looked out the window. Sure, she’d spent most of her life fighting with her older brothers. But she’d also defended them, always, against outsiders. They’d done the same for her. She didn’t quite know what to do with this. They’d flat-out ignored Hunter. In the middle of an important investigation. That wasn’t like any of them. There had to be another explanation.
Though given the look on Hunter’s face, he didn’t seem inclined to find out.
Chapter 11
Hunter’s jaw locked as they pulled down the long gravel drive to Rick’s place, and he pulled up behind several official FWC vehicles and Pete’s sheriff’s department SUV. Abrams’s small, aging mobile home sat right on the banks of the Ocklawaha. It was about two miles past the Outpost’s property line, right next to Josh’s place, which sat on the opposite end of the property from Charlee’s cottage.
Hunter marched over to the group. “Is there some reason you all weren’t at the meeting at Charlee’s I asked you to attend?”
Five pairs of official eyes widened at the accusation. A few feet away, Rick Abrams stood silent, a smug expression on his face.
Josh was the first to respond. “What meeting?”
“I sent every one of you a text.”
Josh, Sanchez, Fish, and Pete all pulled out their cell phones. “I got nothing,” Pete declared. “There’s no signal out here.”
Fish held up her phone. “Sorry, Lieutenant. I didn’t get it. Or maybe I did, but like Pete, I have no signal out here.”
“Me, either,” Josh said. Sanchez nodded agreement.
Hunter scanned the group again but saw no belligerence, which took his temper down several notches. When he checked his own phone, he didn’t have a signal either. “What are you all doing out here?”
“We caught a call,” Josh said, though he wouldn’t meet Hunter’s eyes.
“Right. Large nuisance gator.” He looked at Abrams, spread his arms to indicate the surrounding area. “Where is he?”
Abrams stepped forward, hands on hips. “Sorry about that, Boudreau.” He didn’t look a bit sorry. “My bad. After I called it in and asked for help, crazy beast just wandered back into the river and disappeared.”
Josh looked uncomfortable, Sanchez wouldn’t meet his eyes, and Fish fiddled with her phone.
At that moment, Charlee appeared, and Abrams’s whole demeanor changed. He hurried over and tried to hug her, but Charlee stepped out of his reach. Hunter instinctively moved closer.
“Good to see you, Charlee. Are you okay?” He stepped into her personal space again, and Hunter watched her back up another step. “I was so worried when I heard what happened. I came by the hospital, but you were sleeping, and I didn’t want to wake you. Don’t worry, we’ll figure out who did this to you.”
“I believe that’s my line,” Hunter drawled.
Abrams spun around. “This is none of your business, Boudreau.”
“Actually, I think it is.” He scanned the faces around him. “Since you’re all here, I have a few questions for you, Abrams. First of all, when was it exactly that you went by the hospital?”
“What? Why are you asking me this?”
“Just answer the question.”
“Two days ago, not long after they brought Charlee in, after Brittany was shot.” He glared at Hunter. “You can’t believe I’d hurt her?”
Hunter didn’t answer. “What were you doing at the hospital the following night, say between midnight and three a.m.?”
He shook his head, folded his arms. “I wasn’t at the hospital then.”
“Really? Then who is it we saw on the security footage, stepping off the elevator?”
His eyes widened. “That wasn’t—” Abrams began, then he stopped, and all the arrogance leached out of him. “Fine. I was there. I was keeping an eye on things, you know? Just in case.”
“In case what? Charlee had already been released.”
He scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck, blew out a breath, wouldn’t meet Hunter’s eyes. “My boy had to go back to the hospital for some tests. My ex won’t let me visit, so I came by late at night to check on him, make sure he was okay.”
Hunter studied him. Abrams’s frustration was so genuine, Hunter believed him. “It still doesn’t explain why you manipulated everyone out here on a false call.”
“It wasn’t false. There really was a gator.”
Hunter merely raised a brow.
“Okay, I shouldn’t have done that. But I wanted to tell my friends”—he put extra emphasis on the last word—“about what really went down with the so-called bribe.”
Hunter let that go for now and eyed his team. “Head over to Hollywood’s, and we’ll have that meeting.” He turned to Abrams. “I’m sure the guys will call you later, but right now, you’ll have to excuse us.”
Abrams stiffened. His whole body coiled as though ready to strike, but then he thought better of it and stormed past his blue pickup truck and into the aging mobile home, slamming the door with enough force to rock the entire structure.
The others glanced at each other, clearly uncomfortable. Hunter scanned the group. “I get that he’s your friend and was the squad leader. He was mine, too. This whole situation sucks, but for right now, we have a murderer to catch.”
Without waiting for a response, he turned back to his truck and slid inside. Charlee, he noticed, climbed into Josh’s FWC truck. Sanchez and Fish headed to their own trucks, while Pete headed for his sheriff’s SUV alone.
Within minutes, they were at Josh’s place, sitting on the screened porch out back. Hunter gave them a rundown on the camera he’d found, the private school both Brittany and JJ Jennings had attended, and finished up with what the medical examiner had said. They fired questions at him, and he gave them everything he knew, then asked, “How are we doing on background on Oliver Dunn and Paul Harris? We need to find out everything we can on Tommy Jennings, too, right away. Josh, anything on Travis Humphries’s background pop?”
“Actually, it did.”
Hunter shot him a look that clearly asked why he hadn’t called him right away. Josh held up a hand and said, “Sketchy cell service, remember. But there’s enough coverage here that everything just came through.” He scrolled through his phone as he talked, giving them the summary. “Apparently, our friend Travis spent a good bit of his childhood in Miami, shuttled from foster home to foster home before coming here to Marion County to live with an elderly aunt and uncle when he was fifteen. He ran away several times, and they kicked him out when he turned eighteen. The reports said his relatives felt he was ‘mentally disturbed’ and needed more help than they could give him.”
“So they kicked him out?” Charlee asked from where she sat on the porch swing.
Josh nodded. “Right.”
“Dig deeper,” Hunter said. “See what they meant by ‘mentally disturbed.’ Sanchez, Fish, you guys see what you can find out about this O
liver Dunn. His answers seemed too vague. Talk to Paul Harris again, too. Charlee and I will go talk to Tommy Jennings and his ex-wife, Sally.”
Pete and Josh exchanged glances. Hunter narrowed his eyes. “What?”
Pete’s chin came up. “Josh and I took a ride out to Jennings’s place the morning after Charlee got shot, couldn’t find him. His boss said he hasn’t been in for a couple of days.”
Hunter thought his jaw would break from clenching it. “You didn’t think to mention it?”
“At the time, nope,” Josh answered. “We were thinking of Charlee.” He paused, met Hunter’s eyes. “But in retrospect, it was childish to keep it from you.”
Beside him, Pete nodded, expression sheepish. “Since the Harris girl got killed, I’ve made sure you’re kept in the loop.” He worked his jaw, then met Hunter’s eyes. “Should have done it from the beginning.”
Hunter eyed each one, then nodded. “Appreciate it.” Before he could say more, dispatch called on his radio. He answered using his call sign. “719-Ocala. Go ahead.” He listened, then said, “10-4. Hollywood is with me, and his boat is ready to launch. We’ll check it out.” He disconnected, then turned to Charlee, whose whole body had gone tense. He couldn’t blame her. Seemed every time a call came in, more bad news arrived.
“Dispatch got a call about some dead gators here on the Ocklawaha, near the confluence of the Silver River.” He turned to Josh. “I’ll drop Charlee off at the Outpost, and you can pick me up at the dock there.”
“10-4. Be there in twenty,” Josh said, the earlier hostility finally gone. He gave Charlee a quick kiss on the cheek before he headed for his boat.