Lethal Balance: Sons of the Survivalist: 2

by Cherise Sinclair

  JJ had been as relaxed as he’d ever seen her. In fact, she’d been the one to suggest popcorn to go with the movie. The bowl now sat on the coffee table, emptied down to the last few unpopped kernels.

  With a sigh, Caz realized the movie credits were scrolling on the TV screen. Regan was only half-awake, occasionally blinking.

  Caz used the remote to turn the TV off and low music on. “Good movie.”

  JJ chuckled. “It was, although the LEO was incredibly unprofessional.”

  “Gabe has the same reaction to cop movies.” Caz rubbed his thumb over her shoulder. “It sounds like you’re settling nicely into the job, princesa.”

  “I am.” JJ smiled. “Gabe sent me out to deal with two neighbors in a dispute. He said if he’d shown up, it’d probably turn into a fight.”

  “He’s a smart cop to see how well you work with riled-up people. We both appreciate your ability to soothe everyone down.” If she hadn’t already had a career, he’d have tried to talk her into the medical field. “Rescue will need that talent of yours even more during the winter.”

  Delight filled her eyes. It mattered to her, being useful. Needed. And accepted by the town. Sure, everyone wanted to be liked, but it appeared, for JJ, that was a bigger deal. She’d told him that her fellow officers back in Nevada had been sexist. Had stopped backing her up. But, he had a feeling there was more to the story.

  With his inability to tolerate puzzles, Gabe probably knew. But asking the chief of police about his officer would be inappropriate.

  Caz would wait for answers until JJ was willing to share…although it seemed that might take a while. Some women—people, he should say—would spill every private detail of their life at the drop of a hat.

  JJ wasn’t one of them.

  The thought of her being hurt, emotionally or physically, bothered the hell out of him. He’d never met anyone like her, such a mixture of tenderhearted and tough, friendly and reserved.

  Ah well, he had time. He wasn’t going anywhere and neither was she. What with Regan in the picture, he needed to move slowly.

  But move he would.

  Said daughter yawned widely, and her head rose. “JJ?”

  “Yes, sweetie?”

  Regan’s lips tipped up at the endearment. Then she sat up and snuggled against him so she could look at JJ. “Um, me and Delaney wondered about…she said she heard you shouldn’t be living here. Cuz it wasn’t right or something. But she didn’t know why it wasn’t right, and I don’t know either.”

  Caz stiffened. Oh…hell.

  * * *

  Each of Regan’s words hit JJ with a small stinging pain like sharp hail from an unexpected storm.

  Someone knew she was living at the Hermitage and had interpreted it in the worst possible way. Didn’t this sound an awful lot like Weiler? There, the gossip had started with disparaging female officers in general. After Nash’s lies, the rumors about her had grown ugly—that she was breaking up marriages and relationships, stealing their men, and sleeping her way to the top. Considering she’d never gotten a promotion, that last lie seemed rather stupid.

  “Good officers have to risk their lives to cover for her inadequate skills.” That falsehood had hurt the worst. So not true.

  She realized she hadn’t answered Regan. That Caz was watching her. Waiting for her. She had no clue what to say.

  She sat up, edging away from him, and immediately missed the feeling of his muscular arm around her.

  “Regan.” Caz drew Regan’s attention. “For people to live together in families, towns, or cities means we need guidelines on how to get along. Some are straightforward. You shouldn’t kill others, lie, cheat, or steal. Nearly every place and time period agree…so we made them laws. Sí?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “Other so-called rules vary, depending on what year it is, the trends, where you live on the planet, what religion you’re into, and even whose voices are loudest in your location.”

  Regan wrinkled her nose. “Huh?”

  “In Sacramento, would anyone notice if you had a single woman living in the apartment next door to a man?”

  Regan snorted. “Mom was single, and we lived next to guys all the time. So did everybody.”

  “Exactly.” Caz touched his daughter’s nose with a fingertip. “But some people think if their religion has a rule or if they grew up with a rule, everyone else has to do the same. That’s how we get crazy ideas like girls shouldn’t show any skin, but boys can go shirtless. Or that women shouldn’t live next to men or shouldn’t live close to their boss—even when there aren’t any other places to live.”

  “That’s stupid.”

  “It is.” Caz glanced at JJ.

  She shook herself mentally. Regan’s question should’ve been hers to answer, and she’d been a coward.

  “When Gabe hired me, there weren’t any rentals at all—because it was tourist season. I’ll be moving to one of Dante’s rentals one of these days.”

  Although Gabe had told her she should just stay put.

  Regan’s face fell. “No, I don’t want you to leave.”

  JJ felt her heart simply melt. She didn’t want to leave either. The evening had been so wonderful, all of them cooking and cleaning up and enjoying a movie together. Regan was adorable and Caz… How rare was it to simply enjoy a man’s company? Whatever he did, he seemed to have fun, and he didn’t try to escape any of the kitchen chores. He’d turned washing dishes into a team activity.

  A sexy one. Every time he touched her—gripping her hips to move her out of his way or hand-feeding her a bite of cheese—the heat in the room had risen another degree. Or when he’d laughed at something she’d said and given her a kiss. The simple, swift kiss had left her feeling as if lightning had zinged through her.

  When he nuzzled her hair a couple of minutes ago, her lust-o-meter rose right into the danger zone.

  No lust, Jayden Linnea Jenner. No.

  “Can’t you stay here, JJ?” Regan asked.

  JJ reached across his chest to touch her hair. “I wouldn’t go far—just to a cabin on the other side of the lake. When I’m there, I hope you’ll come and visit me.”

  Regan brightened. “Okay. I will.”

  “Good.” She met Caz’s dark gaze and saw his concern. For her. For her reputation.

  JJ’s stomach tightened as she thought about rumors and mean-spirited people. In Weiler, her reputation had been ruined so very easily.

  Rescue was far smaller. It wouldn’t take much.

  Chapter Fifteen

  You’ve only got three choices in life: Give up, give in, or give it all you’ve got. ~ Unknown

  * * *

  The next night, as the slamming of Regan’s bedroom door echoed through the house, Caz shook his head. Through the house? Dios, they’d probably heard that sound in Rescue.

  Had Crystal possessed such a temper? He had no idea. He barely remembered the woman or their drunken hookup.

  It could be Regan had inherited Caz’s hot temperament. The poor kid.

  Huffing a half-irritated, half-pained laugh, Caz dropped into a living room chair and scrubbed his hands over his face. “That did not go well.”

  This parenting stuff was tricky. How had Mako made it look so easy? Hell, the sarge’d had to contend with four street-hardened kids.

  Then again, the cabin where they’d been raised was surrounded by wilderness. No outside access. No school or teachers. No conflicting opinions. No outside peer pressure.

  No witnesses. If he’d drowned all four of them, no one would’ve known.

  The sarge had probably been tempted, especially since the four of them had fought…a lot. Caz had started more than a few brawls, especially when Gabe got bossy. Hawk was slower to anger, but once he lost his temper, it was gone—and he got dangerous. Bull rarely got angry, but just a blow from him could do damage. As children, they’d fought because they were strangers. Later, they’d brawl for the sheer fun of it.

  Truly, it
was a wonder the sarge hadn’t simply executed them.

  Caz didn’t have four headstrong boys. He had one little girl. Just one. Surely, he could manage to be a decent parent.

  Yes, she had a mouth on her when she didn’t get her own way. In a way, that was a compliment. It was a sign she’d begun to trust him. Hopefully, after three weeks, she was beginning to believe he wouldn’t toss her back into foster care.

  He knew how pervasive that worry could be.

  When Mako had taken them in, Bull and Gabe hadn’t been anxious, but Caz and Hawk were sure the sarge would get bored or irritated with them. That he’d dump them. They’d needed a year or so to believe Mako wouldn’t give up on them—that the man had never given up on anything. That he actually gave a damn about the kids no one had wanted.

  At that point, Caz’s behavior had gotten worse—because he wasn’t terrified. Because he’d been able to be a normal kid. Thank you, Mako.

  Feeling more secure, Regan was starting to behave like a normal little girl.

  Dios help him.

  Hearing voices outside, Caz grabbed a jacket. A snowstorm might cool off his temper, and some time alone would let Regan’s temper settle. He’d give her half an hour before trying again to get the story from her.

  Because he knew full well she hadn’t vandalized any books. The girl loved books almost as much as Gabe’s little librarian did.

  “Yo, bro. Your kid has some lungs on her.” Next door on the covered deck of Mako’s cabin, Bull sprawled in a chair with Gabe sitting next to him. Steam rose from the mug Bull held.

  “You out to enjoy the balmy weather?” Caz pulled on his coat and crossed through the rapidly mounting snow.

  Gabe gestured to a night sky filled with white flakes. “First real snowstorm of the season.”

  A tradition, in fact—watching the first winter storm.

  Bull disappeared inside. By the time Caz had climbed the steps and taken a chair, his brother was back out with a mug of hot chocolate. “Here. Join us.”

  Caz took a sip. Chocolate well laced with Kahlúa. “Nice. Thanks, ’mano.”

  “The girl all right?” Gabe frowned at Caz’s house. Regan’s shades were pulled, but light streamed around the edges.

  “She’s fine, although the doorframe might be the worse for wear.” Caz looked up to see two expectant gazes on him. “You two are as nosy as Regina and Irene. Or Tucker and Guzman.”

  With a sound of pain, Bull slapped a big hand over his chest. “Such sharp words. I’m wounded.”

  Caz snorted. “If the blade fits…”

  “Hey, first niece and all that. Brief us, bro.” Gabe made a gimme gesture with his fingers.

  “It’s like this. Regan came home from—”

  When JJ stepped out of the door, Caz could almost hear his heart saying there she is.

  A sense of rightness filled him.

  JJ hesitated. “Sorry. I heard voices and had to check. Police paranoia.”

  “I hear you on that,” Gabe muttered.

  When she started to head back in, Bull beat Caz to saying, “Stay, JJ. We’re celebrating the first real storm.”

  “You’re not interrupting, if that’s what you think, princesa.” Caz motioned to the chair next to him. “Join us.”

  “Oh. Okay, I’d like that.” She stepped back inside long enough to get a coat and then settled into the chair beside Caz.

  Beside him, yes. This was where she belonged.

  “Now tell us what happened with Regan.” Bull glanced at JJ. “The munchkin yelled at him and is holed up in her bedroom. Slammed her door so loud we heard it out here.”

  “Uh-oh.” JJ cast a worried look at Caz.

  “Maybe you should institute Mako’s rules on temper tantrums.” Gabe grinned at JJ. “The sarge said the cabin was too small for pissed-off men. Yelling, fighting, bickering—whatever—had to go outside.”

  “Men?” JJ asked.

  Bull took a sip of his drink. “Mmm. The rule went into effect a couple of months after we arrived. I was a man of nine. Gabe was ten.”

  “Oh God.” JJ looked at Caz. “And you were eight?”

  He nodded. “Dios, I hated being the youngest and the littlest.”

  “Bro, you’re still the youngest and littlest,” Bull pointed out and laughed as he leaned sideways to evade Caz’s backhand.

  “You were only eight, and he sent you outside every time you lost your temper?” She looked horrified. “In Alaska?”

  Gabe fingered the top of his ear. “Got frostbite more than once till I figured out that punching someone in winter was a real bad idea.”

  “He really told you to go outside into the snow?”

  “Told us?” Caz snorted. “More like grabbed us by the collar and pitched us out the door into the snowbank.”

  “B-but…the cold.” Her eyes were wide.

  “Coats and boots would get pitched out next.” Bull grinned.

  Gabe shook his head. “Somewhere around January, we realized he’d deliberately have us shovel snow into that spot. I’m surprised he didn’t draw a bulls-eye on it.”

  In the dark night, a figure crossed the inner compound.

  “There’s my woman.” Gabe raised his voice. “Goldilocks, did you finish your work?”

  “Research is done and sent off. I’m free.” Bundled in a coat, Audrey climbed the steps.

  Leaning forward, Gabe grabbed her hand and yanked her onto his lap. “Come and be my blanket, sweetness.”

  “Gabe!”

  Caz grinned. She still turned red when Gabe did shit like that.

  What would JJ do if Caz set her in his lap?

  JJ turned to Caz. “I want you to know, if you try throwing Regan out into the snow, I’ll shoot you myself.”

  Roaring with laughter, Bull pointed a warning finger at Caz. “I hear she’s a dead shot.”

  “She is.” Gabe grinned at his officer. “But it’s all right, JJ. Caz has the softest heart of all of us. I don’t think you need to worry.”

  “Oh.” She eyed Caz, not convinced. And he loved that she was so concerned for his little girl.

  “I wouldn’t do that to my daughter. No.” The thought was outrageous, actually. “Circumstances were different with Mako. The sarge…didn’t do well with small spaces filled with yelling people, even if the people were merely boys. How long we remained outside was up to us, and honestly, being dumped in a snowbank usually ended a fight right away. Although Gabe stewed longer than his…smarter…brothers.”

  Gabe growled under his breath. “You’ll pay for that one.”

  Knowing he was giving himself away to his brothers—and not caring—Caz took JJ’s hand and squeezed. “You have a tender heart and a protective one. My girl is the richer for knowing you.”

  Like Audrey, JJ had an adorable flush.

  All the grownups were outside. Regan could hear them—not what they were saying, but the sound of her uncles’ and Papá’s voices. Sometimes Audrey and JJ. Having fun.

  Without her.

  Probably laughing about her.

  Squished way down in the beanbag chair, Regan cuddled her stuffed cat and cried. Papá was mean and nasty and didn’t love her anymore. He never had.

  After a while, her tears dried, and she snuffled. And started thinking.

  Maybe she’d been a stupidhead.

  She set the cat on her knees so they could talk. “See, Mrs. Wilner told Papá that Brayden and Shelby said I ripped pages out of books, and there are books that are all messed up. And Papá asked me if I knew anything about it.”

  Regan scowled. “I didn’t do it. I know Brayden and Shelby did. Just to get me in trouble.”

  Now Papá hated her.

  Only, he hadn’t yelled at her. He hadn’t said she’d done it, either. He’d just asked if she knew anything about how it had happened, and she’d run into her room and slammed the door like a big baby.

  Would he throw her out? Hugging the cat to her, she leaned her forehead against her knees. No
t Papá. He wouldn’t. If she said she was sorry and wanted to talk, he’d listen. Maybe he’d even believe her?

  She rubbed her chest where it kinda hurt. He might. He liked her a little. “I’m his mija,” she told the cat.

  Yeah, she’d been a stupidhead.

  Feeling better, she got up and left the room. After work, JJ had brought over sugar cookies, and she and Regan frosted them. With colored frosting and sprinkles and everything.

  JJ likes me. Maybe she could get JJ to arrest the resort buttheads. Set a trap or something. Standing in the dark kitchen, she ate a cookie and stared out at the darkness. Snow swirled past the window, and the wind made loud whishing sounds.

  In her fluffy slippers, she padded to her room and climbed into the beanbag chair, turning so she could watch the falling snow in the window over her head and eat another cookie.

  A scraping-screeching sound made her jump. A tree? Only there were no trees between the house and the dirt road. She’d asked Papá why the forest wasn’t close. He’d ruffled her head—she really liked when he did that cuz it meant he was in a great mood—and he said if anyone got this far, they already knew the houses were here, so the sarge had gone for a clear field of fire.

  Whatever that meant. Probably making sure there wasn’t a forest fire.

  The noise wasn’t from a branch or anything. She rolled out of the chair and looked out the window. This one had a metal grill on the outside so no bear could climb in the window.

  Uncle Bull said the bears were sleeping in caves right now, until next spring. Still…

  The sound came again. Longer.

  Her eyes widened. That was a kitty. A sad kitty. The one she’d heard before. But it was snowing now. The cat would die out there. Regan put her face close to the window to look out. The snow was getting deeper.

  Against the white-covered ground, something dark moved away.

  She should get Papá.

  But if she did, the cat would be gone. She could barely see it now.