Not a Hero

by Cherise Sinclair

  Gabe nodded to Regina as they walked toward her receptionist desk.

  “One call, Chief.” The woman held out a post-it note. “All quiet.”

  “Good to hear. Thank you.”

  As they walked past and through the station door, Baumer persisted. “Do you and the pretty librarian have something going on? Seems like I’ve heard rumors…”

  Jesus, was this the price of living in a small town?

  At Gabe’s irritated stare, Baumer held up his hands. “Just asking. I wouldn’t want to arrest your girlfriend or anything.”

  “Why the fuck would you arrest Julie?”

  “You know—fake name. No one knows where she came from. She never talks about her past or anything.” Baumer shrugged. “I’m just a suspicious guy, and you gotta admit, women are devious.”

  “Sounds as if you’ve been burned a time or two.”

  “Shit, my first wife was a real feminazi and screwed around on me after the second month we were married. That burns, man, you know?”

  All too familiar. Gabe poured himself a cup from the coffee he’d made that morning. Black as sin, but better than nothing. “I know. When I got deployed, my wife figured our vows went on leave.” It’d hurt that while he’d been risking his life for the country—and being faithful despite temptation—she was screwing any soldier-boy she picked up at the bar. It’d been an ugly divorce.

  Baumer nodded. “You get it.”

  Nonetheless, deciding a person couldn’t be trusted because of his or her gender, race, religion, or what-the-fuck-ever was purely stupid. “Julie hasn’t done anything illegal here, and she’s from Chicago. Nothing suspicious about that. She’s sure not the first person to come to Alaska for a fresh start and to leave the past behind.”

  “Maybe.” Baumer’s mouth twisted. “With the trouble we’re having here, seems like we need to be careful. For all we know, she’s wanted for something—and has access to this building.”

  “Only during the hours the building is open and when Regina is here. Our budget doesn’t extend to heating the place for the library alone.”

  “Oh. Yeah, okay. Guess that’s different.”

  “But you’re not convinced.”

  Baumer scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “She sets my instincts off, and I worry that you’re not looking past a pair of breasts, boss.”

  Baumer was a cop; cops listened to their instincts. But Gabe hadn’t been led around by his dick since he was in his teens. Hell, after a disaster or two, most guys figured out that the little head didn’t have much for brains.

  And he was done with this conversation. “Since your shift has started, let’s have our meeting. I want to talk with you about my expectations for patrolling.” Because the officer wasn’t coming up to snuff.

  Gabe led the way into his office and turned the conversation to problems going on in town and law enforcement talk.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Around Monday noon, Gabe had abandoned the piled-up paperwork in the office to deal with a fight between an Alaska Native and an asshole over a fender-bender.

  Then he’d gotten a call from the grocery store. Two teens had thought Dante’s old eyes wouldn’t notice one boy slipping a frozen pizza into the other’s backpack.

  An older woman called with a suspected intruder, which turned out to be a squirrel in the attic.

  Minor problems but…yeah, he was having fun.

  Back in town, he left the patrol car parked on the street and headed toward the municipal building.

  “Chief Mac…MacNair?” A skinny boy with collar-length brown hair, well-worn jeans, and red T-shirt shifted from foot to foot. The kid couldn’t be more than ten years old.

  “What can I do for you, son?” Looking down at the child, Gabe had a sudden vision of how fragile he and his brothers must have seemed to Mako.

  “Um, there’s a dog. He…I can’t get him out, but he needs help.”

  Gabe smothered a grin. The life of a small-town cop, right? “Show me.”

  Checking over his shoulder to ensure Gabe followed, the boy led him to the alley behind Dante’s grocery. He dropped to his knees to peer under a parked car. “See? He won’t come out. He’s scared.”

  Gabe joined him. A half-grown pup, maybe four months. Fluffy enough to be part husky. Sunken flanks and poor condition. Half starved. The tiny whine and terrified half-wag indicated the dog wasn’t feral.

  With a hand on the boy’s shoulder, Gabe pulled him away from the car. “What’s your name?”

  “Niko.”

  “Run into the grocery, grab some turkey lunch meat, and tell Dante to put it on the Chief’s tab. Can you do that?”

  “Yessir.”

  As the child whipped around the corner, Gabe got comfortable on his knees and started talking in a low voice. “Good thing for you, pup, that the gravel isn’t wet or muddy. Looks like you found yourself a nice youngster... Behave and you might have a chance for a…” The puppy moved closer as he talked.

  Before Gabe ran out of things to chat about, Niko was back. “What’re you going to do?” The boy passed over the lunchmeat.

  Teaching time. “Did the dog look well fed?”

  “Uh. No. It’s… He has a lot of fur, but he looks skinny. Shouldn’t he be more round-like?”

  “He should. No one’s called the station with a missing dog report, so I’d guess someone abandoned him. He’s been living hard and is probably back here to raid the garbage bins.” Gabe didn’t add that the pup was lucky not to have been a bigger predator’s snack.

  Niko glanced at the bins and nodded.

  “Since we know he’s hungry, we’ll lure him out with some easy food.” Opening the lunchmeat, Gabe ripped off a strip of turkey and tossed it under the car.

  A second later, gravel scraped. There was a chewing sound.

  Niko got down on his belly to peer under the car. “He took it!”

  “Now, we work on getting him closer.” The next piece of meat didn’t get thrown as far.

  With each offering, the puppy crept closer and finally out from under the car to get the meat next to Gabe’s knee.

  Gabe grabbed the little mite and held on through a frantic attempt to escape. When the dog settled, Gabe offered another piece of meat.

  That was all it took.

  Gabe gave the rest of the meat to Niko. “Your turn.”

  The kid’s grin almost split his face.

  “Will your parents let you keep him?”

  To Gabe’s relief, the boy stopped to think before answering. “Uh-huh. We lost our dog during the winter cuz he was really old. And Dad was talking about getting another.”

  Gabe eyed the pup who’d made itself at home in Niko’s lap…where the food was. Despite its hunger, the dog took the turkey strips politely. It would probably grow up into a damn good dog.

  He had a feeling Niko would grow up into a damn good man.

  “Can you get the dog to your car, or do you want me to carry him?”

  “Uhhhh.” Niko bit his lip, looking awkward for the first time. “I can do it.”

  Gabe eyed him. Might be his folks weren’t fans of the police? He shrugged. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d run into this. “Okay then. Please keep a grip on him so we don’t have to catch him again.”

  “I will. Thank you, Chief!”

  Smiling, Gabe headed out of the alley, crossed the street, and entered the municipal building.

  “Hey, Chief. No messages, no disasters,” Regina reported with a smile.

  “Good enough.” Lifting a hand, Gabe strolled past and into the station.

  In the bullpen, Baumer was seated at his desk.

  “What’re you doing in here on your day off?” Gabe asked. “Can’t stand to be away from the action?” Shoplifters, drunks, road-kill, fender-benders…

  Baumer grinned. “Not that. But I’ve got something you should see.”

  “Yeah?” Gabe walked over.

  Baumer motioned.

  Jul
ie’s photo filled half the computer display.

  No, not Julie. Audrey Hamilton. Reference and Liaison Librarian, University of Illinois.

  With a frown, Gabe skimmed the report.

  A hitman named Spyros implicated in an author’s murder. Assault on a woman who’d done research for the author.

  That’s where Julie’s bruises had come from. A cold chill filled his gut. She was lucky to be alive. “Where’d you get this?”

  “Yesterday, I queried the Chicago police to see if there’d been any incidents involving an “Audrey” in the month before she showed up here.”

  Anger rose. “Did you think you might have run that past me first?”

  Baumer stiffened. “I didn’t figure I needed permission to check into her background.”

  “She hasn’t done anything to justify an investigation into her past.”

  “Someone needed to check on her, and you weren’t doing it.”

  “Because I figured she had a reason to be scared and hiding.”

  Because he’d wanted her to trust him enough to tell him. Gabe scrolled down and found Spyros’s rap sheet. Professional murderer. “Seems I was right.”

  Baumer flushed.

  “You were out of line, Baumer.” Gabe kept his voice even. “I realize it takes a while to learn the station policies and chief’s boundaries.” He left unsaid the warning: Do not do it again.

  The way Baumer stiffened showed he’d gotten the message.

  “Yeah, well, sorry.” Baumer hit the keyboard, deleted the information, and pushed his chair back. “Guess I’ll get back to enjoying my days off.”

  The door didn’t…quite…slam behind the officer.

  Late Monday afternoon, Audrey was at her usual spot in the back of the coffee shop. The scent of coffee mingled with the fragrance of freshly baked pastries. Her mouth watered.

  Breakfast had been dry cereal and milk. Lunch a carton of yogurt.

  Uriah had made chocolate chip cookies. Damn him.

  Absolutely not, girl. The budget didn’t allow for tasty goodies…and neither did her jeans. Although she’d stayed so busy here that the weight she’d lost hadn’t returned.

  One cookie wouldn’t hurt anything.

  Abandoning her analysis of the pedestrian patterns in New York that she was doing for a newsstand company client, she brought up her email. Anything to keep her mind off buttery cookies with chocolate and…

  Oh, look, Dennison has written.

  Hoping for good news, Audrey opened the email. And read the FBI agent’s email.

  Read it again.

  * * *

  Yesterday, the Rescue, AK PD queried the Chicago police department about you.

  * * *

  She stared at the email until the letters began to dance on the display. A sense of betrayal rolled through her in an ugly black wave. Slamming the laptop shut, she jumped to her feet.

  Gabe knew she was running. Knew she was scared. And he didn’t care. He wanted his questions answered and apparently would do anything to get answers.

  Had Spyros’s informants in the Chicago police department told him about the inquiry from Rescue?

  Oh God. How soon would the hitman come after her?

  A high whine filled her head—the beginning of panic. She shoved her laptop and papers into her backpack, pulled it on, and half-ran for the door.

  Behind the counter, Sarah called, “Julie?”

  Pushing open the door, Audrey ran full-tilt into Bull.

  “Yo, champ.” As she tried to dodge around him, his massive hand closed on her arm. “What’s wrong?”

  “What’s wrong?” She broke into a bitter, ugly laugh. “Your brother Gabe is what’s wrong. He…he…” Her mouth closed, and she turned.

  The patrol car was parked in front of the station. He was there.

  Pulling away from Bull, she ran across the street, past Regina at the reception desk, and into the station.

  Gabe was in his office, filing papers in a cabinet. “Julie?”

  “You insufferable bastard.” She stalked over, wanting to make him hurt as much as she hurt. Because she’d liked him. Why had she liked him?

  “What?”

  “You’ve probably gotten me killed, you…you arrogant asshole. You knew I was hiding. You knew I’d been hurt, and you still went and made inquiries about me in Chicago.”

  He shook his head. “It wasn’t me.”

  How stupid did he think she was? “Oh, it surely was. You heard me blurt out my name. You’re the only one who knows I’m from Chicago.” Frustration and anger grew so overwhelming that tears filled her eyes. “I t-trusted you.”

  No, no, she wouldn’t cry. Not in front of this bastard. A sob broke from her, and she ran for the door.

  He caught her arm, his grip as unyielding as his voice. “Uh-uh. This time we really are going to talk.”

  “No.”

  Gripping her shoulders, he turned her to face him.

  “No, no, no.” She shoved with one hand and used the other to pound his rock-hard chest. Blindly, stupidly, just wanting…wanting to make him feel.

  “Julie, it wasn’t me, sweetheart. I told Baumer you were from Chicago—I’m guilty of that. But he sent the inquiry without permission. I just found out what he’d done an hour ago and planned to talk to you about it today.” His voice was calm. Direct.

  And undeniably honest. He hadn’t been the one who queried the Chicago police force about her.

  Muscles turning to water, her arms dropped. Tears filled her eyes as the sense of betrayal drained away.

  “Oh, hell, Julie. I’m sorry.” He pulled off her backpack and firmly drew her into his arms.

  Starting to cry, she tried to pull away.

  “Shhh.” He only pulled her closer, holding her as she sobbed. His palm moved up and down her back in slow, soothing strokes.

  She’d been so scared and alone. And now, she felt safe.

  Cared for.

  His shirt smelled like laundry soap and wilderness, and she could hear his heart, a slow lub-dub…because she’d stopped crying.

  He still held her, an enduring rock in an ocean of tears. Despite the way she’d yelled at him.

  She flinched. “I’m—I’m so sorry. I need to go. Let me go, Gabe, I didn’t mean to act like…” There was no word for her behavior.

  “Like someone who felt betrayed?” She felt him rub his cheek against the top of her head before he let her pull back. Keeping a hand on her arm, he grabbed a couple of tissues from a box on his desk and snagged her backpack. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

  As he walked her out, he paused at the reception desk. “Regina, I’m on the beeper for emergencies. Anything else, I’ll deal with tomorrow.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Audrey frowned. No, this wasn’t right. “You shouldn’t—”

  “Goldilocks, you’re not going to win this argument.”

  Ah, yes, that was obvious.

  Silently, she let him guide her out the back door and into his Jeep. His vehicle? “I can drive myself.”

  “No. You can’t.” His jaw set.

  When he drove past the turnoff to her cabin, she sat up.

  “Gabe, where are we going?”

  “My place. We’re going to get this straightened out.” He glanced at her, and a corner of his mouth tipped up. “Don’t look so worried. I left the rubber mallets and handcuffs at the station.”

  She choked on a half-hysterical laugh.

  Slowing, he turned onto a small, nearly invisible, dirt road. A few minutes later, the heavy forest opened into a cleared area. Four…no, five…two-story log cabins sat in a semi-circle with the open side facing the long expanse of lake. “I thought Bull lived here,” she said blankly.

  “He does. So do I—and Caz, too.” Gabe pulled into the leftmost house’s garage.

  After they got out, he stopped at the inside door, toed off his boots, and waited until she removed her shoes. Then he led her up three steps and into a narr
ow hallway between two small bedrooms. Crossing under stairs that rose to the floor above, they emerged into a huge room that opened all the way to the vaulted ceiling. Immense front windows gave an incredible view of the lake.

  “You have a beautiful place.”

  “Thank you.” He waited as she looked around.

  The rest of the house was beautiful, too. Off-white finished walls contrasted with the dark wood beams making up the ceiling. The window trim was finished logs.

  On the left, the chocolate leather-and-suede sectional faced a massive stone fireplace with a black insert. She imagined cozy evenings in front of a crackling fire.

  A wide flat-screen television hung over the fireplace mantel. Sturdy carved end tables and an equally hefty coffee table indicated a big man’s home.

  To her right, a brown granite-topped island separated the kitchen from the dining area under the front windows.

  “Your house is lovely, Gabe.” If the heavy brown furniture had been in a smaller room, it would have been oppressive. Instead, the colors balanced the spectacular views of the lake and mountains and gave a feeling of homey comfort.

  “It’s a good place.” Gabe seated her on the sectional, fetched two sodas from the kitchen, and settled beside her.

  Right beside her.

  A fizzle of heat started low in her abdomen because she remembered what had happened the last time she shared a couch with the man.

  He chuckled and tangled his fingers in her hair. “Talk, first. Then we’ll see what happens.”

  God, how did he read the thoughts right from her head? Yet, she couldn’t keep from tilting her head to press against the warmth of his big palm.

  “You couldn’t tell me about your past because…” he prompted.

  “You must know why.” She curled her fingers around his hand and held it against her chest, like a teddy bear. Needing the connection. “Fake name, fake papers. I figured that was probably illegal.”

  “The ID didn’t come from witness protection?”