Hot Pursuit

by Jennifer Bernard

"I have some work to catch up on. And you." Practically chest to chest with Chase, he fixed him with that penetrating gray gaze of his. "My brothers told me you came by the airstrip again. Do that one more time and we'll charge you with trespassing."

  "It's a p…public business. That's not trespassing."

  "A, we're not open yet. B, what were you doing there? C, there is no secret stash of money or goods or anything else on that property."

  Chase's smile slipped. "You don't understand, I wasn't—"

  Will kept talking, brushing off his explanation. "Save it. You're Merry's brother so I'm going to stick with a warning here. But put one toe on that property again and we will bring charges."

  Will brushed past him into the hallway. With a muffled "good night, Merry," he was gone.

  22

  Chase wavered back and forth on unsteady feet. "Alone at last," he proclaimed with a sweep of his arm. "Hey, your apartment's nice."

  He took a step forward but she held up a hand. "Stop right there and make it quick. What is it you want to tell me?"

  "Is Will your boyfriend now? Hey, maybe he’ll be my brother-in-law. Half-brother-in-law. If you have kids I’ll be an uncle. Half-uncle? Is that a thing?” He gave her that quirky grin that kind of reminded her of her own.

  She tried hard not to roll her eyes. "Get on with it, Chase."

  "It’s big, Merry. A big secret. I'm kind of risking my internship to tell you." He sniffed the air. "Do you have any food? I haven't eaten all day."

  She marched into the kitchen and grabbed some cartons of leftover Chinese food from her refrigerator. She found a grocery bag and shoved the little white boxes inside. She carried it out to Chase, who was now surveying her apartment as if he belonged there. She thrust the bag at his chest.

  "There you go. Takeout. As in, take it out of my apartment after you tell me what you've got."

  He sniffed the bag appreciatively. "I love Chinese food. That’s another thing we have in common, wow. So. I found out something you're not going to like."

  "What? You’re driving me crazy here."

  "It's about the op…op…opioids investigation."

  "I'm not on that story anymore."

  "I know that. Everyone's talking about how Douglas doesn't think you can do it. But don't worry, I know you can."

  An uneasy sensation stole over her, as if her power was leaching out of her. She'd worked so hard to earn respect at the Gazette. And she had—until Douglas came along. "It's hard starting over with a new boss," she said in a weak voice.

  "Uh-huh. Well, Douglas is going to publish a big exposé about the opioids. He's using all your research. He asked me to set up some social media stuff in advance, that's how I know."

  "What? When?"

  "I don't know exactly when. Probably soon.”

  She stared at the floor, the nubby texture of her rug blurring. Could Douglas do that? Would she have any recourse? And what did he have against her, anyway—other than the obvious. Female, biracial, somewhat insubordinate—could be any of the above. Or something else entirely.

  “I did good, right? Us Merriweathers have to stick together,” said Chase. “Can I stay and eat?" He looked hopefully at her couch.

  She considered him for a long moment. As drunk as he was, she hated to send him back to the street.

  "Fine, you can stay and eat. I'll make you some coffee. Then you need to go home."

  "Home? What home?"

  "The Goodnight Moon. That's where you're staying, aren't you?"

  He screwed up his face. "Not anymore. I'm out of money."

  "What?" That didn't even make sense. Chase was the only child of a multi-millionaire. "What are you talking about?"

  "They cut me off. Dad didn't want me to come to Jupiter Point to find you. Now they want me to go back to New York, and they cut off my credit cards until I do. They try to control everything. But they can’t control me wanting a sister."

  A shaft of hurt slammed through her. She barely heard anything he said after the part about “Dad” not wanting him to find her. Her own father was so adamantly against her that he cut Chase off? "Why?" she whispered.

  Still holding the bag of takeout, he tilted his head. "Why what?"

  "Why don't they want you to know me?"

  "I guess they're embarrassed. I don't know. It's stupid, because you're great. I keep telling them that." Those eager puppy dog eyes blinked at her. "But they don't care what I think. They just want me to go back."

  She swallowed hard, the pain rippling through her in waves. "You should go back."

  "What? But we've barely even talked. This is like the first time. That's not fair."

  "Fair? What does fair have to do with anything?" All the resentment from her childhood boiled over. "Don't even talk to me about fair."

  "Okay, okay, don't be mad. I'm kind of drunk, okay?"

  "Oh, that's just great. So it's all okay because you're drunk? Look, do you know why I didn't want to see you?"

  "No. I'm nice. I'm not like my parents."

  "Oh my God. Just shut up and listen. It's not about you. I knew this moment would come, when I'd feel all that horrible rejection all over again. Like I'm nothing. And I know you don't mean it. I know you're not the one who didn't want me. Maybe you're different from your father. My father. But it still hurts. Can you get that?"

  He stared at her, scrunching his forehead into creases of confusion. "Yes? Maybe?"

  "How would you know what it feels like to be rejected for something you can't do anything about? I am what I am." She spread her arms apart, indicating her skin, her body, her entire self.

  "He doesn't even know you. Me, he knows. And he doesn't like me. At all. Says I have no amp—ambition." Chase shoved his hands in his pockets, looking utterly miserable. "I'm a loser to him. Too nice, he always says."

  "Oh." Well damn, now she felt bad for him. Maybe growing up with everything wasn't all it was cracked up to be. "There's nothing wrong with nice."

  He blinked owlishly and swayed back and forth again. "Wait, are you being nice now?"

  She threw up her hands. "What am I going to do with you now? You're drunk as a skunk, I can't let you drive. You can't stay here. You ruined my date with Will."

  "I can sleep in my car. That's what I've been doing." He staggered a bit. "Food is good though. Thanks for the food."

  Oh hell. She surveyed him dubiously. "You've really been sleeping in your car?"

  "My BMW."

  She heaved a sigh. "Why is it that as soon as I start to feel bad for you, you say something that pisses me off?"

  "Maybe because I'm your little brother?" he asked hopefully.

  She laughed. "Nice try, but I don't think that's it. You can sleep on my couch tonight. But just for tonight. And just because I'm being nice. It doesn't mean we're best friends all of a sudden. And then you need to go back to New York."

  "Why?"

  "Because that's where you belong."

  He wiped the back of his wrist across his forehead. "That money was for you. At the airstrip. I wanted to find it for you."

  "Excuse me?"

  "So you wouldn't hate me. I wanted a finder's fee, for you."

  Torn between bemusement and unwilling affection, she shook her head at him. "I don't need money from you, Chase. You're such a goofball."

  "I learned a poem for you, too. Can't remember it now though." He yawned so hugely that he staggered.

  "Oh geez." With a roll of her eyes, she took his arm and guided him toward the couch. "Come sit down, and tomorrow we'll look into getting you a ticket home."

  "But why?" he said again, as he plopped onto the cushions.

  Exasperated, she snapped, "Because I'm your big sister and I'm telling you to." Then she smiled and ruffled his hair.

  He grinned up at her. "I heard you! You said it! You're my sister!"

  The doorbell rang, reminding her of the pizza she'd ordered. "We're about to find out how deep the family resemblance goes. How do you feel about p
izza?"

  23

  Merry texted Will that she was letting Chase stay on her couch. Will didn't like the idea, but he'd done thorough checks of the kid and found nothing remotely suspicious. Besides, he knew Merry had a limited tolerance for his protective — aka "bossy" — side. So he simply texted her 'good night' and slept in his own bed for the first time in a week.

  It was lonely as fuck and he hated it.

  The next day, he finally got to question an actual suspect in the fentanyl investigation. Johnny Diaz sat across from Will in the interrogation room, a scared-looking Hispanic guy in an oversized hockey jersey. His lawyer exuded competence in his tailored business suit. Someone else was paying his legal fees, no doubt about it.

  "The smart money says you're being set up," Will told Johnny. "I keep telling my superiors that, but they just want to put some numbers on the board. They want to look good in the papers. They want to hold a news conference and tell the world what rock stars they are because they arrested a major criminal kingpin right here in tiny little Jupiter Point."

  Johnny gazed at him blankly.

  "Do you know what a kingpin is?"

  The suspect shook his head. Will felt a "Grandpa moment" coming on. Good Lord, didn't anyone get an education anymore?

  "The kingpin holds it all together. Without the kingpin, it's like a house of cards that'll come crashing down. When I say 'crashing,' read 'going to jail.' Everyone's headed there, it's just a matter of time. So I look at you, and I think, shit, you're young, you need to make a living, plus it's fun to be bad. It's fun to live on the edge. Am I right?"

  Johnny nodded, a little less wary now.

  "But no party lasts forever. Someone's got to pick up the tab. I'm thinking it shouldn't be you. But maybe I just have a soft spot for a guy who still babysits his kid sister." That tidbit of information had dropped into his lap while he'd researched Johnny. Right away he knew it would be helpful. "Be a shame if you couldn't do that anymore."

  Finally, he'd found the crack in Johnny's front. The suspect shot a look at his lawyer, who'd been watching attentively.

  The lawyer leaned forward. "Johnny would like to make a deal. But there's a problem. Something you need to know about." He flicked a glance in the direction of the camera in the corner. "Can we talk separately? You're filling in for Sheriff Perez, right?"

  Will hid his surprise. This was an unexpected twist for a routine interview.

  After Johnny had been taken back to lockup, Will met the lawyer in his office. And that was where the man dropped his bombshell.

  Will was still processing it as he drove to the airport to pick up Aiden. Aiden was coming back for a long weekend, and the brothers had decided to hold the Knight and Day Flight Tours Grand Opening while he was home.

  Except now Will had this to deal with.

  According to Johnny Diaz, the drug gang had an agent inside the sheriff's department. He didn't know the person's name. But Buckaroo Brown assured all his crew that anyone who got picked up in county territory could count on being released.

  Which was exactly what had happened with the suspect Jernigan had brought in.

  Will immediately ordered an extra guard to stand watch at the lockup, with strict orders not to release anyone unless he personally signed off on it.

  As he drove, thoughts whirling, Will kept putting more pieces together.

  That was why the drug ring didn't operate within the city limits of Jupiter Point, because they might get picked up by JPPD instead of a sheriff's deputy. That was why the investigation was getting nowhere. Someone was sabotaging it from the inside. But who?

  This couldn't be the sheriff's doing. Why would he leave on his honeymoon when he had something like this going on? Why would he leave Will in charge? No, it had to be someone else.

  It blew his mind. If this was true, someone he knew, probably someone he knew well, was assisting Buckaroo Brown in bringing the powerful drugs to Will's hometown. The department only had five deputies and a small civilian support staff. He trusted all of them completely.

  But now, he couldn't trust any of them until he knew more.

  He suddenly remembered the call to the Gazette, the one pressuring Merry off the story. What if that had been the work of the mole? What if she'd gotten too close and they'd decided to take action?

  He shuddered at the thought. But if he could find out who had called, he might have a clue on his hands.

  He picked up his cell phone to call Merry, then hesitated. A big part of him didn't want to bring her any further into this mess.

  But that was his protective boyfriend—or not-boyfriend—side talking. Merry was a grown woman, smart and good at her job. He should respect that.

  He clicked her number. When she answered, the sound of her voice sent an almost violent thrill through him. Her vibrant spirit traveled right through the phone.

  "Got a quick question for you, Merry. Any idea who called your editor to pull you off that story?" Even though he tried to ask the question as casually as possible, he could sense her reporter's curiosity perking up.

  "Why?"

  "I can't say right now. I'd just like to know."

  Would she trust him enough to leave it at that? A short silence followed. "I assumed it was the sheriff himself, but I don't think Douglas actually specified. I can try to find out, though."

  "I don't think it was Perez. It was someone else. Can you find out without setting off any alarms?"

  "What am I, an amateur?"

  He laughed, already feeling lighter just from this one short conversation.

  "Will you tell me what this is all about when you can?"

  "When I can, yes. I promise. Thanks, Merry." He softened as he pictured her the way she looked in bed after sex, sprawled across her bed, hair an extravagant fluff against the the silk pillowcase she loved. "See you later?"

  "I'm teaching tonight. I'll text you when I'm done."

  Being Merry's man was the best gig in town, if you asked him.

  Merry's opportunity to dig up the information Will wanted came the next day. Every Friday night, after putting to bed the Sunday edition, the staff of the News-Gazette always gathered at the Seaview Inn for a round of drinks. Douglas didn't usually join the crew. No one really wanted him to.

  But this time, when Douglas announced that he was coming with them, Merry secretly rejoiced. People got chattier when they'd had a drink or two. Maybe she could slide the question into cocktail conversation without him noticing.

  The staff members all sat out on the Seaview's flagstone terrace, with its lush view of the hills surrounding Jupiter Point and the ocean glistening in the distance. The setting sun made Merry think of her date with Will at the observatory. The happy memory warmed her as she settled in with her club soda and lime.

  The others might be here to drink, but she was still working.

  Douglas's presence made everyone feel awkward and, forty-five minutes later, people started to leave. Chase was one of the first to take off, probably because she kept asking him if he'd called his parents yet to schedule his return.

  When the sports reporter vacated his seat next to Douglas, she slipped into it.

  "I've been wanting to tell you that I like the way you've handled community relations since you arrived." She used her best flattery-will-get-you-everywhere voice. "Especially the sheriff's department."

  He frowned at her over his glass of Chardonnay. "How do you mean?"

  "I was upset at first, about dropping that story. But it was the right thing to do. Maintaining a good relationship with our law enforcement agencies is a good idea. I did think it was odd, though…" She trailed off, as if she didn't want to say any more.

  "What?"

  "Well, the sheriff told me about a new arrest. Almost as if he didn't know I'd been pulled off."

  "Maybe he didn't. He isn't the one who called me. It was someone else. One of the deputies. Jernigan, I think."

  "Ah. That makes more sense then. Jernigan's the d
eputy handling the opioids investigation."

  She paused. Douglas checked his watch, clearly getting ready to leave. She'd gotten the information Will wanted. She should wrap it up and get out of there.

  But she didn't. Because she was a journalist and it went against her nature.

  "How's that going, by the way?" she said casually. The last two reporters were saying their goodbyes, so she took a moment to wave to them. But no way was she letting Douglas leave before she got in a couple more questions. "The opioids story, I mean."

  "How's the Robert Knight story coming?" he shot back.

  Damn it. Not the Knight story. That thing was an albatross around her neck. "It's a sensitive story, you know. I want to do it justice. The family gets a lot of respect around here."

  He had a funny expression, as if he didn't believe her. "What if I told you I need something for the next edition?"

  "I'd say that's ridiculous. You can't just throw together a story like that. You have to do it right."

  "So that's a no?"

  "Of course it's a no." She dragged the conversation back to the opioids. "But listen, about the investigation, we really shouldn't lose momentum on that one. I hope someone is still on it. Someone with more experience."

  "Don't worry about it, Merry. Do your job. I assigned you a story that you haven't even touched. Sometimes I wonder how you ever got this job."

  White-hot fury flashed through her. She could read between those lines. He was implying that because she was a woman, or a woman of color, or pretty—she'd heard all three—that she hadn't earned her place. "I got this job because I'm good at it."

  "Sure."

  He pulled out his wallet to pay for his drink. Her time was running out, so she went right to the point. "Are you publishing my investigation without me? Are you planning to use my research without giving me credit?"

  He slapped down a twenty and fixed her with a cold stare. "Your work product belongs to the paper, of which I'm in charge. I can do whatever I want, including publish the story that's going on the front page of this weekend's edition."

  "What? But the sheriff's department asked us to—"