Intrigue Books 1-6

by Delores Fossen, Rachel Lee, Carol Ericson, Tyler Anne Snell, Rita Herron

  Declan.

  It wasn’t ladylike but Remi cussed under her breath. Jonah snorted and headed back for the door.

  “Probably way friendlier than Dad is being to the sheriff,” he said over his shoulder.

  Remi didn’t doubt that one bit.

  She hurried to the bathroom and got presentable like it was the big triathlon she’d been practicing all year to win. Teeth brushed, face washed, mascara applied, hair detangled, and a blue flannel button-up with jeans and boots put on. She knew she could stand to be slower if she wanted. On his own Declan was already a grumpy spot for Gale Hudson. Him coming to the ranch to ask to see his daughter?

  Remi bet every paycheck she’d ever made at Towne & Associates that the only way the sheriff was coming inside was if he had a warrant. And even then he might have to bust out the handcuffs to keep her father from making a scene.

  December stuck to its guns on mimicking a real winter. Remi ripped her jacket off the hook by the front door and walked into the cold without properly bracing herself for it. She sucked in a breath as she tried to zip up the jacket, all while trying to gauge the situation on the porch.

  Declan was standing on the bottom step, her father on the top. The latter was leaning against the railing, all casual. Declan, however, was tense. His badge had been pinned to the outside of his jacket. He greeted Remi with a smile.

  It was also tense.

  “Hey,” Remi said, sliding into whatever conversation they’d been having. She caught Declan’s gaze. “I saw your truck and thought you might be here for me?”

  “And why would you think that?” her father asked so fast she got whiplash looking back at him. A heat pulsed up her neck and into her cheeks. It was born from embarrassment and quick anger.

  It could have been pregnancy hormones; it could have been the fact that her father had barely said two words to her since she’d come back for the holidays.

  “Because why would anyone want to visit a bunch of grumpy men holed up in one house?” she shot back, deciding it didn’t matter what was fueling her sudden fire.

  Her father turned, surprised but obviously ready for rebuttal. Remi was, too.

  Declan went to the next step. When he spoke, his tone was so harsh that both Hudsons redirected their attention.

  “I’m actually here for Jonah.”

  Neither Hudson said a word for a moment. Remi was too busy nursing the stab of disappointment that had pierced her. Declan hadn’t called the night before and now he wasn’t even there for her.

  His expression softened.

  “But I would like to talk to you after.”

  “Why do you need Jonah?” Her father had lost all illusions of being casual.

  Declan’s jaw was hard. He seemed to choose his words carefully.

  “An incident happened yesterday involving an acquaintance of his and I’d like to ask him a few questions.”

  Remi shared a confused look with her father. Well, her expression expressed confusion. Her father’s read defiance.

  Declan must have recognized it.

  He took one more step up the stairs. When he spoke he kept her father’s eye contact.

  “This isn’t a request, Gale.”

  Whether it was intentional or not, Declan shifted in his jacket, which made his sheriff’s badge catch the sun’s glare. It was enough to get her father moving, though he grumbled as he did so.

  When Gale was back in the house, Remi descended to the step Declan was on.

  “What’s going on? Is Jonah in trouble? I mean he’s a pain in the backside, but you know he’s harmless, right?”

  Declan didn’t give away anything with his expression.

  “He’s not in trouble, but I still need to talk to him.”

  “You? Why not one of your detectives?” Remi lowered her voice. “Is this about the note from Well Water?”

  Declan was quick to shake his head.

  “It’s about that call I got yesterday. I’ll explain after I talk with him.”

  Remi’s emotions fluctuated again. She couldn’t help what she said next. “Will you call me like you did last night? Or should I just wait around again and hope you’ll show up tomorrow instead?”

  Declan’s entire demeanor shifted, but she didn’t have a chance to see what emotion it was shifting into.

  “Remi, I—” he said but the front door opened again. Jonah came out, followed by their dad. “I want to talk to you after this,” Declan finished instead. Then he met Jonah’s stare with another impassive expression.

  “Jonah can we talk in private for a minute?” Unlike their father, Jonah agreed without fuss. They walked out to Declan’s truck and stopped by its hood.

  Remi couldn’t hear what they were saying as, alongside her father, she watched their body language. It changed quickly. Jonah clearly was surprised and then angry.

  But not at Declan. In fact, Declan put his hand on Jonah’s shoulder for a moment.

  Then Jonah turned on his heel, yanked his keys from his pocket and was rushing to his car. That put Remi and her father into action. While he went to Jonah, Remi went to Declan.

  “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

  Declan didn’t seem offended or angry that Jonah was obviously leaving the conversation. He watched as Jonah quickly spoke to her dad.

  “A woman was attacked in an attempted kidnapping yesterday,” he explained, not mincing words. “She said she knew Jonah so I thought I’d ask him a few questions to help clarify some things for me.”

  Remi gasped.

  “Lydia?”

  “Wait. You know her?”

  “I heard about her last night. Jonah went on a blind date with her. Is she okay?”

  “Yeah. Shaken up and has some superficial wounds, but she’s okay. Considering.”

  Stressed wasn’t the word that described Declan in that moment. It wasn’t strong enough. The crinkles at the edge of his eyes that showed a life that had had many a laugh were woefully absent when he met her stare.

  “Have you had breakfast yet? I need to eat if I have any hope of continuing to think straight.”

  Remi didn’t have to think about it long. She hurried back to the house for her purse and phone and was sliding into the cab of his truck soon after. It wasn’t until they were off Heartland that she realized they were headed toward town and not the Nash Family Ranch.

  Which meant they weren’t going to be alone after all.

  Remi wondered if Declan had made that decision on purpose.

  * * *

  DOWNTOWN OVERLOOK WAS simple. A main strip with shops, eateries and slow but even foot traffic no matter the day. From the aptly named Main Street there were a few branching streets that led to a park, businesses and one that even went all the way to Second Wind, Desmond’s foundation.

  When Declan suggested getting something to eat, though, his mind only went to Claire’s Café. It was a local favorite and run by a friend. One who, unlike most of the town, knew not to pester Declan for information when it came to a current case. Claire smiled from behind the counter after they walked in and motioned quickly to a table in the corner of the room. Partially hidden behind the pastry cabinet, it gave its patrons a slight privacy advantage while still keeping the front door in sight. Considering it was a seat-yourself establishment, that meant Claire was trying to help him out.

  Which meant the town had picked up on the story of Lydia and Cooper way faster than he’d hoped.

  Which also meant that the press conference he would be attending in two hours might not be soon enough.

  “Ahh. I haven’t been here in way too long,” Remi said with obvious fondness. “Please tell me her homemade pecan squares are still a thing.”

  Declan pulled out her chair and eyed the glass cabinet near them.

  “They are and it looks lik
e she just made a new batch. You got lucky.”

  Remi grinned and only stood again when Claire bustled over. They hugged, said all the pleasant, polite things exchanged between old friends and then Claire dropped any guise that that was the real reason she’d come over.

  “Declan, I thought you should know that all anyone was talking about this morning was Cooper and what he did to that poor woman,” she said, lowering her voice so the handful of patrons already in the restaurant couldn’t hear. “And, if it were me, I’d avoid talking to the new news editor of the paper. Delores doesn’t say it out loud but I can tell she’s having a hard time keeping Kellyn from doing the whole tabloid thing instead of using the facts.”

  Declan took off his hat and decided if he sighed every time he felt like it, then he might never get the chance to talk. Or breathe.

  “Thanks, Claire,” he said. “I’ll make sure to keep a wide berth until the press conference today.”

  She tapped the tabletop in confirmation and went to get them two pecan squares and two coffees. Remi changed her order to decaf before Claire could get too far away.

  “I’ve been away a lot longer than I realized,” she said. “Who are Delores and Kellyn?”

  “Delores Dearborn is the editor in chief of the Overlook Explorer and Kellyn is the latest news editor. While we—that being me and the department—are personal fans of Delores, we’re definitely on the fence about Kellyn. She likes to...sensationalize every story she gets her hands on. Sometimes at the expense of the facts. Delores has had her hands full keeping her on track since there aren’t a lot of people at the moment who could or would want to take her place. Overlook might be a magnet for some pretty dramatic stories on occasion but it’s not the most exciting place in between them.”

  Remi glanced at the people settled in at a few of the tables across the room.

  “Like a kidnapping attempt. The same day we found a note in the wall at Well Water,” she whispered.

  “I’m not so sure the note even is legit anymore,” he admitted. “The man who told me where the note was just so happens to be the same one who tried to take Lydia.”

  Remi’s eyes widened in surprise.

  “You think he put it there recently to—what—distract you? That seems pretty darn elaborate for something he surely could have done easier.”

  Declan shrugged.

  “That’s the only thing that makes sense right now for me. It wasn’t a secret that Dad had been working on Justin Redman’s case back in the day. Picking his name to write down would definitely link back to the right time frame.”

  “That’s all so wild.” Her expression softened. “Considering I’m stressed out about this, I have to believe you’re just swamped with it. How do you cope?”

  Declan wanted to say he didn’t. His version of coping with the stresses of the job was throwing himself deeper into that job to try to put whatever case was going on to bed. Instead, he smiled at Claire’s reappearance with pecan squares and coffee. He pointed to both when she walked away.

  “Sweets and coffee help.”

  Remi laughed. It was a light sound and it helped his mood.

  It also made him feel another wave of guilt.

  “Listen, Huds, I’m sorry about last night. This case just got really involved and by the time I realized what time it was I didn’t want to wake you.” He held up one hand in a Stop motion. “I know that’s no excuse, but not calling you had nothing to do with you. I’m sorry.”

  A small smile passed over Remi’s lips. It was fleeting.

  “It’s okay. I get it. Really, I do.” She took a steady breath. Her lips, glossy and pink, parted. Declan read her body language before she spoke a word. She was about to tell him something.

  Something important.

  Declan didn’t have a chance to find out what that something was.

  Suddenly all hell broke loose outside the café. Without thought he threw himself between the rest of the café and Remi and their unborn child.

  * * *

  DECLAN HAD HIS gun up and out. Every patron in the room backed away from the front door. Claire, who was behind the counter with wide, searching eyes, moved behind the baked goods case. She shared a worried look with Remi.

  The screeching tires and screaming had happened in an instant. Just as quickly as the appearance of Declan in front of her as a human shield. She’d barely had time to register that anything was wrong before the wall of a man was between her and the door.

  Remi reached out to touch that same man, drawn to his protection like her other hand had been drawn to her stomach, linking the three of them in one fight if needed. It was a bizarre reaction Remi didn’t have the time to address. When the screaming outside didn’t result in an attack inside, Declan finally moved.

  “Stay here,” he barked over his shoulder, gun still raised.

  Remi watched the door bang shut behind him but couldn’t see what the commotion was through the front windows. Whatever had happened must have been just out of view.

  Remi’s heart hammered in her chest.

  She still had her hand raised from touching Declan.

  The screaming outside stopped.

  But the fear rooting her feet to the ground and snaking up to her heart did not.

  Chapter Eight

  Declan almost mistook the bystander helping the woman as the person who had hurt her.

  “Hands where I can see them,” Declan ordered on reflex.

  Then the details filtered in.

  There were three people outside. One was an older man, gray hair haloed around a bald spot that shone in the patch of sunlight not covered by Claire’s awning. He stood in the street, his full attention on the other two people outside. Which brought Declan to the younger man kneeling on the sidewalk.

  He had dreads pulled back against a plaid button-up and a nice tie. They matched his pants and dress shoes. They did not match the blood that was on the arm of his shirt or the woman leaning against him.

  Declan realized it was her scream he’d heard.

  Blood, bright and angry, was smeared across her cheek. She held it with one hand and the man held her with both of his. He didn’t let go as he addressed Declan.

  “That man just jumped out of a car and hit her, then took off!” He motioned his head to the side.

  Declan lowered his gun and followed the man’s sight line, already mentally calling in backup to search the area for the man in question.

  Yet, Declan couldn’t believe his eyes.

  A few yards away there was a man with red hair standing in the middle of the street. When he saw Declan, he smiled.

  “Stop right—” Declan started to yell.

  The man turned on his heel and ran like a bat out of hell.

  “Call 911,” he said to the man on the sidewalk.

  Then he lowered his gun and dug his heels into the concrete.

  Boots and dress shoes slapping the ground echoed across Main Street as the man of the hour hauled over the span of two blocks. Unlike Caleb, Declan was more muscle than speed. Unlike the man he was chasing, however, Declan was the sheriff and damned determined.

  His legs burned as he pushed every muscle to eat up the distance between them. Shouts behind him filled the street as shop owners and patrons came outside to see what all the fuss was about. Declan sidestepped two bystanders with shouts to get back inside. That effort, plus yelling out for the man in question to stop, cost him a bit of endurance. But when the man hung a right around the hardware store at the intersection of Main and Juniper streets, Declan could have laughed.

  Whoever the man was, he wasn’t a local. Or, at least, hadn’t been downtown in a while.

  Tilting forward into the run, Declan curved around the corner of the building and immediately had to swerve around an orange caution cone. And then another. The intersection, sidew
alk and part of the hardware store were in a construction zone thanks to a nasty spring storm that had used the trees across the street as battering rams. This week they’d started repaving the sidewalk. The road was still sectioned off.

  The man didn’t know that.

  He cursed something awful, already halfway through a stretch of wet cement. Two cones with tape between them were knocked over. A string of workers were littered around the street and watched as Declan let out his booming voice once more.

  “Sheriff’s department, stop now!”

  One man, a long-haired younger worker, sprang into action and tried to grab the culprit. Instead, he became a human shield. One that was erected so fast all Declan could do was stop and huff. The man he had been chasing grabbed the younger one and put a gun Declan hadn’t yet seen against his temple, stopping them both in the wet cement.

  “You stop or he dies,” he panted out. He pressed the gun against the man’s head again. It made him wince.

  Declan didn’t move his aim, but he did freeze.

  “Whoa there, buddy,” he tried, dropping some of the command in his voice and picking up some, as Caleb’s wife said, goodwill honey. Some people responded the way Declan wanted to the commanding voice. He had a gut feeling the man with the gun across from him wasn’t one of those people. “Take it easy.”

  He glanced between Declan and the men in neon vests along the road.

  “No one do anything stupid,” Declan called to them. When the man’s gaze was back to him, he addressed him directly. “Drop the gun, let him go, and let’s just talk. There’s no need for this to go any further.”

  The man in question did something Declan wasn’t expecting. And certainly didn’t like.

  He laughed.

  “And what would we talk about, Sheriff?” he called. “The weather? Christmas plans? How you may be a good shot, but there’s no way this would end in a good light if you don’t put down your gun?”

  He laughed again and then settled into a smirk.

  “I’ll make you a deal, though,” he continued before Declan could say a word. “Throw your gun into the wet cement and I’ll throw you this.” He shook the young man he was holding enough to put emphasis on his control of his well-being.