Harlequin Intrigue July 2021--Box Set 2 of 2

by Carol Ericson

  The sound of water displacing synced with the older man landing a frustratingly accurate hit. His fist went into the section of bruised ribs that he’d gotten from Jason’s bullet. While it mostly didn’t hurt anymore while doing mundane tasks, getting hit square in those ribs by a man desperate for his gun made Foster roar in agony.

  Which was probably why he didn’t realize at first that Deputy Park wasn’t the new arrival on deck.

  Millie drove her fist down from the heavens with such quiet swiftness that neither Foster nor the older man saw it coming. For the rest of Foster’s life, he doubted he’d ever see such a beautiful hit.

  The older man recoiled from the force and, to everyone’s surprise, he went limp.

  Millie Dean had just knocked out a man with a sucker punch that was so precise that it could have taught its own class.

  Foster wanted to praise her then and there, but he was hyperaware that they needed to get two guns away from the men.

  “The shotgun,” he breathed out, pain still radiating up his side.

  Millie nodded, cradling her hand, and took possession of the discarded weapon as Foster pulled the handgun free of the older man’s holster. She jumped back as the younger man groaned.

  “Keep it on him but don’t shoot,” Foster directed her. He was slower to stand, but when he did, he was at her side, gun trained on the unconscious man just in case.

  “Are you okay?” Millie asked, voice wobbling. Most likely from excess adrenaline.

  Foster nodded. “What about you?”

  “My hand hurts but I’m okay.”

  Foster snorted. “That was an amazing hit,” he admitted. “Especially considering I told you to stay in the water.”

  Millie laughed. It too was a wobbling sound.

  Someone cleared their throat.

  Foster turned to see Deputy Park, gun hanging down at his side and mouth open like a fish trying to breathe out of the water.

  He shook his head, eyes wide.

  “What in the hell, y’all?”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Millie was ready to leave the hospital, the doctor disagreed.

  “You’re in observation until I say otherwise,” he’d told her with quite a stern look.

  The tone, and look, had been deserved though, if she was being honest. Since they’d been brought to Haven Hospital, Millie had been ready to go to the department and question the man who had spoken about Fallon. Being drugged, losing almost eight hours of memory, and waking up sick after being dumped out in an abandoned boat thirty miles away from where they’d started at the bar?

  Well, those details were irrelevant in Millie’s opinion.

  The man talking about Fallon was not.

  Millie had been itching for the sheriff to change their course from the hospital to the department while driving her and Foster away from the dock where Deputy Park had sequestered the small boat. He’d been a steadfast no against forgoing a medical exam.

  Foster had agreed with the man, though Millie could tell that the detective wanted to go and detect.

  She could also tell that he was in pain.

  He’d opted to sit in the back of the truck next to her, saying it was to save the sheriff’s passenger’s side seat from their wet clothes, but Millie suspected he was still trying to protect her.

  Not that she minded one bit.

  There might have been a lot of questions in the air around them, but there was one point of fact that was easy for her to admit.

  She trusted Foster.

  That was a rare thing for Millie, a phenomenon that wasn’t lost on her.

  Still, once they were at the hospital she tried her best to hurry the process of being examined, despite the detective telling her that they’d get the truth soon enough. The sheriff attempted to reassure her in private before they left.

  “I’ve known that man in there since he was a baby,” Sheriff Chamblin had said to her. “He’s not the kind of person to let something go. Most times that’s a great asset for a detective but, for a man who’s just been beaten, drugged and shot all within the last week, it’s not helping him.” Sheriff Chamblin had taken off his cowboy hat with an acute look of concern. “I know you aren’t a fan of the department and have a history with a lot of the town, but that man in there? He hasn’t let you down an inch since you’ve met him. I’m pretty sure if you asked Love to go take on an army right now, he’d do it. Return the favor and make sure he gets the care and rest he needs to get better. In the meantime, I swear to you that we will do everything in our power to get to the bottom of this.”

  Millie would have taken offense at the implication that she was the one standing in the way of Foster’s well-being, but the sheriff’s words were heartfelt and genuine. So, she’d decided to calm down on her own.

  “I’ll make sure he listens to the doctor,” she’d promised. “But, when we’re out of here, y’all better not cut me out of this.”

  Sheriff Chamblin had put his cowboy hat back atop his head. Then he’d tipped it to her.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  After that, Millie had been a good patient, all the while keeping her impatience as quiet as possible. She’d given Foster space while the doctor saw to him in his room.

  Now, a few hours later, Millie’s resolve was breaking.

  She peeked out of her room and into the hallway. A deputy named Lawrence was stationed down the hallway in the second-floor lobby. Foster had said they’d been assigned someone just in case another attack came their way. Yet Millie now saw that same man distracted by his phone. Had she not wanted to sneak into the detective’s room, she might have been offended. She padded across the short space and was inside the room without a fuss.

  It wasn’t until she turned around and saw Foster standing at the foot of the hospital bed in nothing but his jeans that Millie realized she should have knocked.

  She was also painfully aware of her less-than-flattering hospital gown.

  “I—I should have knocked,” she said in a stammer.

  Millie intended to avert her eyes from his bare chest but, well, that’s not what happened.

  Not at all.

  Millie already knew the detective was attractive. She’d already admitted that to herself, and she’d already had some stray, somewhat inappropriate carnal thoughts, but standing there, caught in a candid moment, Millie couldn’t help but stare.

  After they’d gotten to the hospital and been put into rooms, both had taken showers. Millie’s makeup was gone, her hair was free and frizzy, and her right hand was scabbed and bandaged.

  Foster, however, was a sight to behold.

  His hair was dry now and waved to his shoulders, wild and golden even under the hospital fluorescents. The color matched the stubble along his jaw and the dusting of hair that went from his chest down to beneath his waistband. And that chest. Millie had felt the man’s muscled body against hers in the water. Logically she knew how his body must have looked beneath his clothes.

  Yet the lean muscles that went from biceps to abs gave her such great pause that, for a moment, she felt like she was caught in mental quicksand. Sinking lower and lower, in danger of getting completely lost.

  Luckily, or not so much, it was the same bare skin that had her transfixed that pulled her out of her fascination.

  “Oh my God.”

  Millie closed the distance between them with concern replacing appreciation in a flash. Her eyes locked in on his side.

  “Is this where you were shot?”

  It was unlike any bruise Millie had ever seen before. Dark and angry. Wide and unavoidable.

  It looked absolutely painful.

  Foster laughed. It was a light sound. It didn’t feel right next to such ugliness.

  “And where our friend Southern Drawl decided to hit me during our tussle. If I’d been a carniv
al game, he’d have walked away with an oversized stuffed monkey as a prize for hitting the bull’s-eye.”

  He was trying to be funny about it, dismissive, but seeing the horrible mark made Millie realize just how bad it would have been had Foster not been wearing his vest.

  She reached out and felt his warm skin beneath her fingertips. She was careful, gentle.

  “You could have died.” Millie’s voice had hollowed. For the first time since he’d disappeared, the worry for her brother was moved aside. “You could have died because of me, Foster. And not just once. The woods, Jason Talbot, Rosewater, the creek... You wouldn’t have been in any of those situations if it weren’t for me.”

  His hand was warm as it enveloped hers. Together they rested against his side. When he spoke, she could feel it through his body.

  “You didn’t pull the trigger, you didn’t attack me and you didn’t drug me and then dump me on a boat. Trust me. None of this was your fault.”

  “I’m the common denominator,” she said simply. “And I’m so sorry.”

  Foster took his other hand and used it to angle her gaze to his. She noticed belatedly that he had a shirt in his grip. He could have been holding a flamethrower instead and she still would have kept her focus on his eyes.

  “It’s easy to blame yourself when you don’t know who the real blame falls to.” His smile was small. A whisper, almost. It brought her attention to his lips but not before being pulled right back up into those true green eyes. “And, by my count, you’ve been doing your fair share of having my back out there. Not many people I know, women or men, would take their chances at going against two armed men soaking wet. Never mind knocking one out cold with a picture-perfect punch. Who taught you how to hit like that anyway?”

  Millie tried not to but she grinned.

  “You did.” Foster’s eyebrow rose. “I just used what you told me to do with the mop. The whole ‘imagine going through them’ when you hit someone with a thing.” She shrugged. “I figured it probably applied to humans too and not just mop handles.”

  Foster let go of her chin. His laugh lit up all of his features. Millie smiled along with him.

  “Millie Dean, you are a surprise and a half. God sure broke the mold with you.”

  The warmth of a blush made its way to her cheeks.

  “I don’t know about that, but I’ll take the compliment all the same.” She cleared her throat as she pulled her hand away from the man. Then she took a small step back. She finally averted her eyes and motioned to the shirt he was holding. “Also, sorry I barged in here just now. I should have knocked. I didn’t mean to catch you dressing. I guess I was starting to feel a little cramped...and a lot impatient just waiting around in bed.”

  Foster waved off her apology. Then he sighed. “To be honest I was considering a jail break myself. Since I already got some sleep to make the doctor calm down, I figured I could get away with leaving.”

  “Oh?” Millie forgot to give the man privacy again. She snapped her head back toward him so quick, her hair shifted against her back. “Did you hear anything new?”

  It was a generalized question, but she couldn’t figure out which one to present first.

  “I’ve been told that they found some new information but not what. Yet.” He took his shirt and started to put it on. “So I figured I’d be harder to sidestep if I was in front of them.”

  Millie watched as he looped the T-shirt over his head and then paused before pulling it down.

  He was stuck.

  Millie reached out again, this time uncertain.

  “Do you—”

  “I’ve got it,” he said, cutting her off with unmistakable male stubbornness.

  Foster curled the shirt down to his shoulders. His face contorted as he paused again.

  “Are you sure?”

  He nodded. “I took a bullet to the vest and fought a man two days later. I think I can handle putting on a shirt.”

  Foster struggled on.

  Millie held in a giggle.

  When someone knocked on the door, the playfulness went away.

  Millie took the bottom of his shirt in her hands and pulled down to cover his stomach. Foster didn’t fight it.

  “Come in,” he called when his stomach was covered.

  Millie put more space between them but didn’t get too far. Their closeness was enough to draw a glance between them by the new arrival.

  “Deputy Lawrence said I could come in.”

  The woman was a bouquet of color. From her patchwork blouse, red slacks, blue-striped hair and purple lipstick, she ate up the drabness of her surroundings with ease. It made Millie once again self-conscious of her gown and its garbage bag vibes.

  “It’s fine.” Foster motioned between Millie and her. “Millie Dean, this is Dr. Amanda Alvarez, Dr. Alvarez, this is Millie Dean.”

  The doctor’s height allowed her less than three strides before she was shaking Millie’s hand.

  “You can call me Amanda,” she said, all smiles. “I’m the new Dawn County coroner.”

  “Oh! I read about you in the paper when you were hired,” Millie said. “You’re the youngest coroner in Kelby Creek history.”

  Amanda laughed. “That wasn’t a hard feat considering I’m pretty sure the man I replaced had a personal relationship with the dinosaurs.”

  Millie had never met the former coroner but knew he was one of the many who had lost their jobs during The Flood. He’d been suspected of doctoring some of his reports in favor of keeping certain friends in places of power. Though, on the spot, Millie couldn’t remember the specifics past that. Still, she laughed at the joke. A lot of the first round of people fired or incarcerated had been Kelby Creek’s older, more prominent members.

  “So what brings you out of the basement?” Foster swept his hand wide to the love seat next to the bed, offering her a seat. Amanda raised her hand to decline without saying the words.

  “I’m actually here because your doctor has the hots for me.” Foster shared a confused look with Millie. Amanda continued. “When he confirmed you two had been drugged with the same meds that had been found in Jason Talbot’s possession the night he died, he came down to the basement and asked if Jason had had the same meds in his system. Unlike my predecessor, I told him I couldn’t discuss the details about an ongoing investigation. And that seemed to be all I needed to say for him to start telling me about the details he knew.”

  Amanda took a step closer. On reflex Millie and Foster took a step in closer too. The doctor didn’t lower her voice when she continued, but there was a quickness to her words. An excitement.

  “Most of what he said, I had already heard through the grapevine of nurses and deputies hanging around when you were first brought in, but he told me something I wanted to make sure you knew. But first, can I see your hands?”

  The question was to Foster. Again, he shared a look with Millie. Then he held up his hands. Amanda was quick to take them in hers to inspect.

  “I heard you don’t remember what happened between the bar and waking up on the boat, right?”

  “Right.”

  “But your hands were busted like this when you regained consciousness but not when you first arrived at the bar.”

  Foster nodded. “Right again. Though I fought on the boat after.”

  Amanda poked one of Foster’s knuckles. Some were still scabbed, some were still in the process due to his most recent fight. She looked thoughtful for a moment.

  Then she nodded, seemingly to herself. She dropped his hands.

  “I’m no detective and I certainly don’t know the full extent of the case and what’s going on right now—”

  “But?”

  Foster went from friendly to professional in an instant. Millie couldn’t blame him. He’d caught a scent.

  Another piece of the puzz
le.

  Something that might lead them to the rest.

  “You obviously hit someone,” she said. “Hard enough to bust your knuckles. That suggests you either hit them so hard in one go that it broke the skin or, more likely, you dealt several blows.”

  “Yeah, I’m guessing I landed multiple hits. Why is that of interest?”

  “Normally it wouldn’t be, but from what I’ve heard? Neither of the men who were brought in with you this morning had any bruising or marks across their bodies other than the fresh hits.”

  Millie watched as realization dawned across Foster’s face.

  “What does that mean?” she asked, not quite there with him yet.

  Amanda opened her mouth to answer, but Foster beat her to it.

  “It means that whoever I fought during our missing gaps of memory definitely wasn’t one of the men on the boat.”

  “If you have a suspect already, I’d also go see if they’re sporting a new shiner,” Amanda added. “Because I’m pretty sure a guy like you left a mark.”

  Millie’s stomach went tight as she met Foster’s gaze.

  “The sheriff told us on the drive here that he had already questioned William Reiner when we went missing,” she said. “But did he say if Reiner had any bruising?”

  Foster broke their huddle and went to the hospital phone next to the bed since their personal cell phones were still missing.

  “No,” he said, dialing a number. “But I’m sure about to ask.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “And then she rose out of the water like Swamp Thing!”

  Deputy Park sprung up from behind his desk and waved his hands at this audience in the sheriff department’s bullpen for effect.

  Foster cleared his throat.

  Millie shifted at his side.

  Deputy Park, however, didn’t look like he’d been caught bad-mouthing the woman. If anything, he seemed excited to see them both. A distinct change from his past behaviors, that was for sure.

  “Honestly, I’ve never seen anything so cool!” He was grinning from ear to ear. He addressed Millie directly. “I mean I had barely recovered from the detective here popping out of the water like a salmon going upstream, but then you rocked my world. It was some James Bond, spycraft-type stuff if I ever did see it.”