“Have there been any new Reggie sightings?” Courtney stood up, got hit with another wave and had to plant a hand on the table in order to steady herself.
“You sure you’re okay to work?” Zach’s brow creased with concern.
“I’m good,” she responded a little too quickly. “No more potluck for me.”
“To answer your question, yes. There’s a new sighting almost every day. Nothing has panned out so far,” Zach said.
Getting out of the stuffy office where she could grab some fresh air was her top priority. The department-issue SUV assigned to her was at the opposite end of the parking lot.
Taking in a lungful of crisp late-morning air, she was reminded how good it felt just to breathe. She’d taken a new job in a new city—not technically new, but she hadn’t lived in Jacobstown in almost a decade—and this was supposed to be a fresh start after what had happened in Dallas when a protest turned into civil unrest. Eight officers had been killed that day, three of whom she’d been very close to. One of whom she’d been intimate with.
Courtney had barely escaped with her life. She’d gone back to the job after a three-month recovery and counseling stint after being shot. But living in the city, doing that job had lost its appeal. Since law enforcement was all she knew and at one time had been her passion, she’d called Zach and asked if she could come work for him.
The rest, as they said, was history. Courtney climbed up and slid behind the wheel of her SUV. Her white-knuckle grip did little to calm her churning stomach. She already knew a few teachers she wanted to speak to, and Zach had said he’d have his secretary, Ellen Haiden, send over their home addresses. School was still in session, and only one of Reggie’s teachers had retired in the last decade.
But Courtney had something to do first.
The drive to the big-box store in Bexford took a solid forty-five minutes from the office. She could only pray she wouldn’t recognize anyone once she got inside.
Courtney parked her vehicle off to the side of the building and took the walk to the front door while fighting against the urge to vomit. She walked past the row of neatly stacked carts. She didn’t need one but didn’t exactly want to hold a pregnancy test out in the open, either. She picked up a handbasket instead, figuring she could load it with a few items.
Part of the reason she’d come to this store was the fact that it had self-checkout stands. That and the point that she didn’t want the whole town of Jacobstown to know she thought she might be pregnant. If she was, then, yes, she would have to have an awkward conversation with the baby’s father, but she’d rather not deal with the gossip if she turned out to be stressing over being late on her cycle for no reason.
Walking through the aisle caused her pulse to race. A man walked past. She froze, pretending to be interested in a feminine napkin package. She mentally chided herself for being ridiculous. But this felt so much bigger than she could handle. If word got out, there’d be questions, and there was no way she wanted this tidbit getting around.
Her heart played a steady beat, hammering her rib cage.
It was then she realized she should’ve bought the other items first so she could immediately cover what she came for.
Taking in another deep breath brought enough calm over her to pick up the pregnancy test and drop it into her basket. She moved over two aisles and randomly threw in any item that she might ever need. Allergy pills. Stomach acid reducer. Cotton balls.
It shouldn’t be a big deal to get from where she stood in the middle of the store, and yet it felt like miles away.
She turned and out of the corner of her eye caught sight of a youngish man who favored his left leg when he walked. The hairs on the back of her neck pricked. She told herself that her reaction was most likely because of the conversation she’d had with Zach and Lopez a little while ago and not because the Jacobstown Hacker was in The Mart walking twenty feet in front of her.
His back was to her, but she could see that he was average height and build, maybe even a little wiry. She’d learned the hard way that wiry guys could be surprisingly strong. His hair was light brown in a short cut, commonly referred to as a buzz. He wore Carolina-blue basketball shorts and a dark hoodie.
There were all kinds of logical reasons that could account for his slight limp, Courtney reminded herself as she kept one eye trained on him. He turned at the end of the aisle toward the sporting goods section. This guy could be coming from the gym. He could have strained a muscle in a workout. Or he might play sports and could have tweaked his ankle during a game. It could’ve been a pickup game. How many of her colleagues in Dallas had done the same during last-minute lunch-hour basketball rounds?
She was being paranoid, but with no answers in Breanna’s murder after weeks of investigating, everyone with a limp was worth checking out. The reality that the killer knew the area struck. He really could be any guy she’d just walked past in order to follow Blue Trunks. Ice-cold creepy-crawlies trailed up and down her spine when she really thought about it. A familiar shot of adrenaline jacked her heart rate up a few notches. She used to get a burst of excitement when that happened. Now, it felt a lot like dread as she reminded herself to control her breathing. Her stress response was out of whack after what had happened on her last job.
Courtney increased her speed as she rounded the aisle. She ran smack into a hard, male chest that felt more like a wall.
Before she could tell the man to watch where he was going, she blinked up. Jordan Kent.
“What are you doing here?” The words flew out, and her cheeks flamed with embarrassment. If he saw the pregnancy test in her basket...
No, he could not see that. She subtly shifted her elbow backward in order to use her body to block the contents in the basket. Her skin still sizzled from the weeklong fling they’d had a month and a half ago.
The tall, over-the-top handsome rancher took a step back. His dark curls were barely contained underneath a black Stetson. A slow grin spread across perfect lips and straight white teeth in one of those smiles that had been so good at seducing her. He had the sexiest dimple on his right cheek. He was one seriously irresistible, hot package. Another bout of nausea struck. She didn’t want to be reminded of exactly how tempting he’d been.
Jordan quirked a dark brow. “Shopping. Why? Is it against the law now?”
* * *
COURTNEY STARED AT Jordan like he had two foreheads. He’d been used to teasing her when they were kids but running into her in the least likely place a month and a half ago, he’d seen her in a whole new light.
“Why aren’t you still in Idaho?” She blinked at him like he might be a mirage or something.
“Family business. I was asked to come home.” The last time he’d seen Courtney ten years ago, she’d been the cute but young friend of his little sister. Running into her after a decade of absence had caused him to see that she’d grown into an intelligent, strong and beautiful woman. An attraction like wildfire had spread through both of them, and they’d been consumed by the flames for a solid seven days and nights.
But their time together wasn’t all incredible sex and lighthearted teasing. She woke in the middle of the night many times shaking and crying. He’d comforted her until she fell back asleep. When he’d tried to sit her down and talk about it on the seventh day, she’d made it clear that she had a job to begin and a new life that didn’t involve him.
He’d thought about her more times than he cared to admit in the past thirty-seven days. Her quick wit. Her soft curves. Those pink lips.
Hell, he had no business appreciating those anymore. She’d been real clear on where they stood. It was most likely his bruised ego that had him thinking about her more than he knew better than to allow. Usually he was the one walking out, not the other way around.
“What’s wrong?” he asked as she tried to look around his shoulder. Did she have a boyfriend? T
he only thing he’d known for certain about her during their fling was that she wasn’t married. He should’ve asked about a relationship but assumed she wouldn’t have spent the week in bed with him if she’d been dating someone else.
He’d also thought about that haunted look in her eyes when she first woke from a nightmare. That, he might never forget.
She was almost a foot shorter than his six feet three inches. She had to come in at five feet six, maybe seven. Her shiny auburn hair was pulled back in a low ponytail. She had just enough curves to be a real woman, and his fingers itched to get lost on that silky skin of hers again.
“Sorry. I was just watching someone, and...” Her face twisted, and she took a step to the right in order to get a clear view of the person.
Jordan had never felt awkward with a woman before. Normally, he spent time with people who didn’t expect much in return. After a few rounds of hot sex and mutual enjoyment, they’d part ways. Neither side tried to drag out the fling or make a big deal out of walking away.
He told himself that he felt a pang of jealousy with a strong dose of heartache seeing her again because he knew Courtney, but that wasn’t completely true. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly why this felt different from the many others he’d spent time with. It just did.
“Well, I should get out of your way, deputy,” he said to her. Her cheeks flushed, and her tongue darted across full pink lips. Jordan ignored the warning shot to his chest.
It didn’t matter. Courtney seemed to have no interest in him. But the week he’d spent with her had felt like a homecoming. Not since he’d lost his parents—and maybe even long before then—had Jordan felt like he belonged somewhere. Sure, he and his five siblings had taken over the family ranching business along with associated mineral rights. Their inheritance was spread across three states, with significant holdings in Texas.
No one in his family needed to work another day for a paycheck. They got up at 4:00 a.m. to face a long day of work because ranching was in their blood and they loved the land. Jordan was no different. But the ranch didn’t feel like home to him anymore.
He stepped aside.
Courtney grabbed his arm and motioned for him to scoot back over.
Well, he really was confused now. “What’s going on, Courtney?”
“I’m sorry. I was watching a possible suspect.” She glanced at Jordan, and those eyes with cinnamon-colored flecks sent a bolt of lightning straight to his heart. He needed to develop a thicker skin when it came to her, because right then he wanted to haul her against his chest and welcome her back home properly. But that ship had sailed when she’d refused to speak to him again.
Damned if she wasn’t distracted now. Sure, his ego took a hit. Most women made themselves a little too available for the youngest and only single Kent brother.
He told himself that was the reason he felt a sting in his chest and not because he had stronger feelings for Courtney.
“Don’t let me stand in the way of your job.” Hadn’t those been the words he’d used when she’d told him that their time together had been special, but she needed to focus on her work at his cousin’s office?
“I’m sorry, Jordan. It’s a case I’m working on. It’s getting inside my head a little bit,” she said by way of apology. “I should go.”
Courtney turned toward the front of the store. He should’ve walked away right then and there. It was his fool pride that had him standing his ground like it didn’t matter. His bruised ego wanted to say otherwise, but that’s all it was.
Jordan glanced down, and then he saw something in her basket that gave him pause.
Was this the reason she’d rejected him?
Evidence that she had been in another relationship stared back at him.
Copyright © 2020 by Barb Han
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ISBN: 9781488067419
Evasive Action
Copyright © 2020 by Carol Ericson
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Evasive Action (Holding the Line Book 1) Page 20