by Lee Winter
“Sure. By the way, Sid”—Alex grabbed his arm as he was leaving—“Thanks. You were amazing.”
He grinned and left with a wave.
Sergeant Hawkins walked over and handed Sam a pepper spray canister, baton, and Taser. The wind picked up, carrying their words clearly.
“Think you may have lost these in the confusion.”
Sam offered a tight look and nodded. “Thanks. How’d you get here so fast?”
“It’s Matamata Cup Day. the Waikato Police District had a couple of extra units over here to help keep an eye on the racing crowds. We got the call of an officer down near us. Then we all start getting texts from friends and family, with links to some live feed.” He winced. “Higher ups are going nuts. Reckon you’ll be all over the news tonight. There’ll be fallout.”
Alex winced.
Sam’s expression became grimmer. “Figured. Thanks for the assist. I did have things under control, though.” She slid the items back on her belt.
“Sure,” he said neutrally. “I look forward to your report.” He left her to it.
After a moment, Sam glanced up, her gaze intersecting Alex’s.
Alex’s small smile was met by a wall of ice. Nonetheless, she couldn’t tear her eyes away. She stared at Sam, trying to convey that she’d only done any of this for her. Everyone needs help sometimes. Alex kept on staring, her heart clenched in dismay at Sam’s closed-off expression.
Oh hell.
CHAPTER 15
Viral Sensation
Alex’s head was thumping listening to so many excited, enthusiastic Te Wharariki Hotel patrons buying each other drinks and recounting tales of bravery that rivaled Beowulf. The two dozen bikers were now numbering forty. It’d probably be a hundred by evening’s end.
However, the woman whose name was on everyone’s lips was missing. Sam was resting at home, according to Sid. He’d also said that Sam had learned the Wild Boars were not behind the sabotage.
That seemed like the sort of important piece of information a police officer might have wanted to discuss with Shezan’s director. Unfortunately, Sam hadn’t responded to Alex’s text or call. Maybe she was asleep? Or still angry?
So, Alex sat in the boisterous pub, staring into her beer, analyzing just how pissed off Sam was.
Skye’s was the only other somber face in here tonight. Any attempts to talk to the costume designer had been foiled by another cheerful local buying Alex a drink. Turned out the Matamata road crew appreciated her for making them social media legends.
Not the point, she’d tried to explain. They didn’t care.
On the largest New Zealand news site, “Locals wade into brawl to save their cop from rampaging bikies!” had been trending worldwide for hours.
The national media had descended on the pub, much to Gina’s delight, and she’d managed to squeeze into every interview that she’d be relaunching Te Wharariki as a gastro pub soon. Media were interviewing the locals, working their way through them as adeptly as vultures on a carcass. Alex had become an expert at ducking out of sight to avoid telling them to sod off.
In the space of three hours, Sid had become a media darling. His beaming face was all over the news talking about how “smacking a few bikie heads in to save my sis” was not something he’d thought about, and he’d “just acted on instinct, hey.” He’d thanked his road-crew mates and also paid tribute to Sam for saving her own ass by befriending the dogs.
Alex watched the interview on a TV above the bar—the sixth time she’d seen it so far—and marveled at what a natural he was. Sound-bite perfection. Photogenic, too, with those flashing white teeth and warm eyes. No wonder Chloe had been flinging herself at him in her own laid-back, “sooo, buy you another garlic bread, Sid?” way. Not that he’d noticed. Still.
“That’s Sam. Always doing the smart thing,” Sid concluded in his interview, and for a moment his expression faltered.
Alex interpreted that as: “Except for today—I have no idea why she was even there.”
Neither did Alex. It was insanity. What had possessed her?
The guilt crept back, knowing exactly what had possessed her. Sam had put herself on the line for her, to find the saboteur. A saboteur who was still a mystery—so all of this had been for nothing.
A new beer appeared on the bar next to her elbow and she sighed. “I don’t think I can.”
“It’s not for you. It’s mine. God knows I earned it today.” Quincy eyed her.
Oh hell. She’d been avoiding him, too.
The executive producer perched on the bar stool beside her. “I wish you’d said, ‘I don’t think I can’ four hours ago when you decided to attend a gang brawl.” His expression hardened.
“About that…”
“No, I don’t care why.” He scowled. “We’re half a day behind production now. You left the set, not telling anyone anything, and didn’t return. And I had to find out from our lead actress what was going on—a woman who was so upset about what could be happening to you and our equally missing security guard that she was unable to actually act. Which was fine, since it turns out we were lacking a director at the time.”
“I’m so sorry.” Alex rubbed her brow. “I acted on instinct.”
“I’m aware; I saw the footage. So did half the planet, including the studio bosses, who want to know why their Shezan director’s hanging out of a tree, filming biker brawls, instead of making the movie they’re laying down tens of millions for. It’s a good question.”
Shit. Alex dredged up her most contrite expression. “I’m sor—”
“Don’t bother. Look, this town already has a cop and it isn’t you. These locals are more than capable of sorting out their own squabbles without an assist.” He shook his head. “Know what? I have no clue what to tell the studio. What do I say? She dropped everything and ran after the cop she’s got the hots for?”
“What?” Alex almost choked. “I don’t—”
“It doesn’t matter. That’s what the locals are saying around here. Well, they have a whole bunch of theories, but that’s the leading one. It’s how it looks.”
Jesus. Was she so transparent that even some random barflies could see her feelings?
“I don’t care either way,” Quincy continued, “but I need this to never happen again.”
Like two biker brawls being live-streamed was on the cards.
“Just focus on nothing else but the film, is all I’m saying,” he continued. “We both know how bad the stink surrounding Shezan is. We can’t afford one more bit of crap about it. This film’s more diseased than my ex-wife’s boiled cabbage. My second ex-wife,” he clarified.
“It has been a bit cursed.”
“And that ends here.” Quincy tapped the bar hard. He met her eye. “So…here it is: If your commitment to the project is not a hundred percent, I need to know, because I’ve had it up to my eyeballs with fuckin’ Shezan. I’ll tell the studio that’s it. We can’t start again with a fresh slate and a new director. The media would flay us alive if we had to get a fourth one. It’d be better if they just tossed a match on the gasoline and walked away.”
Alex stared at him. She’d only disappeared for half a day. A disturbing thought slammed into her. “Wait, is that what you want? Is that what this has all been about?” Alex lowered her voice. “Have you been sabotaging things so I’d look like shit? Your beef is with me and you wanted me gone? Or did you just want to go home because you’re so sick of this movie, and ruining it’d speed things up?”
He hissed in a breath. “Of course not! I’d never screw over my own production. To me wasting money’s like taking an acid bath. Can you just commit to the fucking film, so we can all move on?”
Alex eyed him closely. He seemed genuinely aggrieved. With a tired nod, she said, “Of course. So, do we have a revised schedule? Did Leslie work up something while I
was gone?”
“Yes. Tomorrow and the next day, it’s a sparrow-fart-early start to pick up lost time. Five a.m. That way everyone’s ready to shoot the moment the sun hits their pretty faces. Leslie’s already put it on the board in Production.”
It was freezing, dark, and miserable at five out here. She pitied the actors, who’d need to be up even earlier. “I’ll be there. Obviously.”
“Good.” Quincy picked up his beer and made to move away. “Alice has told the rest of the cast about the pre-dawn starts. They’re leaving now if you want to catch a ride back.”
“Yeah.”
“Hey?” Quincy tilted his head.
“What?” She eyed him morosely.
“Work aside, you okay? You look like shit.”
“Thanks,” she drawled. “And I’m not the one who decided to single-handedly go and beat up the biker gang believed to be sabotaging our film.”
Quincy considered that. “She did do that, didn’t she?”
“Mmm. As to what to tell your bosses? I was protecting our assets. I believed our film had been harmed by that gang. Incorrectly, as it turns out. But I wanted to ensure they were held accountable for sabotaging Shezan.”
“Christ that’s bad,” he grumbled. “But I’ll try and spin that. And I’ll leave out the bit about you chasing after the hot cop.”
Alex narrowed her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. This was business.”
“That’s what I said, too,” Quincy said ruefully, “right before I fell for wife number three.”
CHAPTER 16
Fifteen Minutes of Fame
The day after the brawl Sam would rather forget, her phone rang all morning. She let the calls slide through to voicemail as she gingerly worked her way around her kitchen, making toast for an early lunch—or late breakfast. Her phone was full of messages from Sid, Alex, Kev, and Gina, not to mention a bunch of other locals checking she was alive. Probably just didn’t want to break in a new cop.
There were also work calls—Police Media regarding dozens of media requests for interviews worldwide, the drug squad responding to Sam’s call about what she’d wrung out of Dino, and the Police Commissioner’s office. That last call she was putting off returning, well aware that her lowly ass being in her big boss’s sights could not end well.
Her phone pinged with a new text message. Great. Te Aroha’s bossiest doctor.
That’s it, I’m using you as my primary case study in my next paper on unsafe practices in solo-officer stations. What were you thinking?! Never mind, just see me soon. I mean it!! If you don’t show I’ll have my intern haul you in by the boots. This is not optional.
With a sigh, Sam took another painkiller and reviewed yesterday’s events. The moment Dino had ordered his men to attack, everything had flipped upside down. Sam’s grand plan to sprint out of there had been stopped cold when her arms were grabbed by Dino’s largest bikie. Then Dino had kicked her knee out, dropping her to the ground.
Suddenly, four Rottweilers had rushed at them out of nowhere, a blur of muscle and bared teeth. Finally the hounds of hell lived up to their reputations, turning into snapping, ferocious beasts and lunging at anyone getting too near to Sam.
The Boars hadn’t been sure what to do at first, alternating between hitting Sam and fending off the dogs. For every hit they got in on her, sharp teeth were sunk into them in return.
Truthfully, Sam wasn’t sure how long she could have held them off, even with her snarling allies. By the time the compound’s gate had burst open and Sid and his crew had poured in, Dogsbreath’s boots had been driving into Sam’s ribs while she tried desperately to protect her head from the others.
The sight of her brother storming to the rescue had been both sweet and terrible. She was the police officer. And she’d needed rescuing. By a civilian. Everyone in Ika Whenu knew that now. Hell, tens of thousands of strangers did, too, thanks to Alex Levitin.
She’d seen Alex’s missed call and text but didn’t trust herself to talk to her right now. That woman was the reason she couldn’t leave her home without facing half a dozen staked-out reporters. This morning’s earlier walk to get the newspaper in had been especially fun.
“Are you a hero, Senior Constable?” one had shouted as she plucked the paper off her path.
“Tell us how you got the dogs on your side!” called another. “What’d you do?”
“Is it true you took on eighty gang members solo?”
Eighty, was it?
“Why did Shezan’s director rush to your aid? Are rumors true that you and Alex Levitin—”
“No comment,” Sam had cut in. “And there will be no comment, so there’s no use you all trampling my garden.” She’d glanced at her half-dead plant bed. “Such as it is.” That had earned snickers. “Take it up with Police Media.” She’d gone back inside, slamming her door.
A trip next door an hour later to fill out paperwork and various reports had involved more media excitement. Her “no comment” had been more snarl than polite that time.
Bloody Alex Levitin.
She pushed aside her half-eaten toast—cold, anyway—and finally faced the call she’d most been dreading. The Police Commissioner.
For ten excruciating minutes, she had her ears pinned back while he explained all the reasons why her being the most visible cop in New Zealand right now was not a good look for the department. Putting civilians in harm’s way had been reckless. Unprofessional.
He was somewhat mollified that she’d found the source and drop location of the meth so the drug squad could intercept the next delivery. Sam would not be allowed to attend the stake-out, given her work situation was currently “under review.”
A nice way to say she was suspended. An acting replacement to run Ika Whenu station was being sent over from Hamilton.
Yes, she was well aware she’d screwed up big time, and the whole world had witnessed the results. The whole bloody world.
After a few more litanies of Sam’s failings, the Police Commissioner ended the call.
She flopped back on her bed. Great. So, here she was: Ika Whenu’s suspended, disgraced, reckless cop. Probably about to be fired after that “work review.” No other job prospects. No life outside of Ika Whenu.
What, exactly, was she going to do now?
She closed her eyes, too tired for any of this. She’d deal with it all later.
CHAPTER 17
Blue Skye
Five in the morning was just as cold and miserable as Alex had expected. It was considerably worse with a hangover and drizzling New Zealand rain. As the minutes slowly ticked by, Alex stared miserably at the ferns, sets, and waterlogged, shivering extras, wishing she could slip away for half an hour to check in on Sam. The longer the silence dragged on, the more Alex’s equilibrium suffered. However, Quincy’s stern directive to focus, and her own desire to prove she was committed, kept her feet cemented to the set.
Alex pulled up her thick shirt collar to get the icy chill off the back of her neck and adjusted her “lucky” director’s hat, a stylish, sharp, straw fedora she’d found at a hip artists’ market a decade ago. She could use a bit of luck right now.
“All right, Chloe? Melody?” Alex called, then paused, gazing out at the weather again. So bleak. How apt.
Chloe cleared her throat. “Alex?”
Alex blinked. “Sorry. Yes. On ‘Am I strange to you,’ I need you to step up close to Melody.” She waved them closer to each other. “Get right up inside her space, okay?”
“Aren’t they good friends at this point?” Melody asked with a small frown. “Why is she being all challenging?”
Because it’s sexual now, too? God, Alex so wasn’t in the mood to tap dance around Melody’s obliviousness today. Chloe’s amused expression wasn’t helping.
“They like to tease each other. A little playful one
-upmanship, trying to throw the other off a little,” Alex said. “Know what I mean?”
Melody’s frown deepened. “Who does that? If I tried that shit on my friends, they’d tweet that I’d lost my mind.”
“Think of it as trolling for fun. In person,” Alex said, fighting to keep the sarcasm at bay.
“Oh.” Melody gave a smile. “Right.”
“Okay,” Alex said in relief. “Chloe will go almost nose to nose with you and you’ll be startled and stare at her for a bit, wondering what she’s doing. Yes?”
“Sure.” Melody sounded bored now.
“Great. Marks, people,” Alex called. She retreated to her director’s chair, called out a few final instructions, heard the clapper board come down, tried not to wince at how loud it was, and called, “Action.”
“You’re strange.” Chloe said, her voice the low, smoky timbre she used for Shezan. “I don’t know any others like you. Do you swim in streams where you come from? Hunt for food? Am I strange to you?” She stepped inside Melody’s space and slid her gaze to the other woman’s lips. “What do you see when you look at me?”
“I see a woman unlike anyone I’ve ever met before.” Melody’s voice hitched. “I can never go back to the life I had, knowing you’re out here somewhere. Alone.”
Chloe smiled softly. Her hand floated to Melody’s arm and squeezed.
An ad-libbed gesture. Sisterly solidarity, Alex would tell the suits if they ever asked.
“I’m not alone,” Chloe said. “My family is all around me in the forest. Who do you have?”
“I-I have you.”
Oh yes. Melody had nailed exactly the right amount of vulnerable and hopeful. The girl was disturbingly good at faking sincerity. Just hold the intense eye-fucking a little longer… “And…cut. Excellent job. Get ready for close-ups.”
“Um, Alex?” Melody stepped well away from Chloe, then darted a look back at her co-star. “About this…”