Ambushed at Christmas

by Barb Han

  The chief waved him off. “That’s not necessary, Mr. Kent. I appreciate your coming here on your own free will so promptly. I’m sure you can appreciate the fact that a woman has been murdered on my watch and I don’t take that lightly.”

  “Believe me, I’m clear on that.” Deacon’s tone left no room for doubt.

  “Thank you for your time.” The chief stuck out his hand between them.

  Deacon took the offering.

  “If anything comes up, will you let us know?” The chief seemed to know Deacon wouldn’t let this go until he had answers.

  “Will do, Chief.” Deacon turned to walk out.

  “Leah, stick around after Mr. Kent leaves.”

  * * *

  DREAD SETTLED ON Leah’s shoulders like a heavy wet blanket in the cold. Nothing in her wanted to stick around and speak to the chief. Everything in her wanted to walk out that door behind Deacon. “I’ll just see Mr. Kent out.”

  The chief nodded.

  Leah walked Deacon out to the parking lot.

  “I’m sorry about Charles,” she said.

  “It’s pretty clear he won’t let this go. I won’t have my family name dragged through the mud over his jealousy.” Deacon meant those words. Leah could see it in his clear gray eyes.

  “What makes you think that’s the problem?”

  “The way he looked at you. His anger.” Deacon raked his hand through his thick hair. “No one gets that frustrated with someone when they don’t know the details of a situation unless they still have feelings for them. How long ago did the two of you date?”

  She didn’t want to talk about Charles with Deacon Kent. But she took in a deep breath and dove in anyway. “It’s been months since the breakup. There wasn’t much on my side of the relationship to begin with but I’m starting to see that the time we spent together meant more to him than I realized. He’s been going through a lot emotionally and I guess so have I.” And that was as much as she was ready to say about it. “I better get back inside. The chief is waiting.”

  Deacon took a step toward her and dipped his head down to kiss her.

  All willpower to fight against her growing feelings for him exploded. Her fingertips tingled with the desire to touch him again, to get lost in his hair as he kissed her.

  He hesitated as though waiting for permission before their lips touched. She pushed up to her tiptoes and pressed her mouth against his.

  His hands came up to either side of her face, cupping it. Her palms flattened against his muscled chest.

  The words this can’t happen were a distant memory as his tongue delved into her mouth. The air hummed with electricity, charging around them.

  Rational thought disappeared and all she could focus on was the moment happening between them.

  He pulled back first and looked in her eyes.

  “You’ll be all right?” There was a protectiveness to his voice that sent a rocket of warmth spiraling through her. Leah could take care of herself and she didn’t need anyone to stand up for her. But it was nice for someone else to have her back for a change. Even in the world of police work, which was a family in its own right, she always felt on the fringe. She’d chosen this life and didn’t regret a minute of it. With her family background, which everyone in the department seemed to clue in on from day one, it was always going to be an uphill battle. Females from The Heights didn’t go into police work. They got into the right colleges after prep school, took six-figure jobs or important volunteer positions after graduating. What had her mother said? Be the person who makes policy, not enforces it. Any idiot with a gun could do that.

  Leave it to Mother to insult Leah and an entire profession in one fell swoop.

  “He’s frustrated now but it’ll blow over.” At least she hoped it would. Ruining her career wasn’t high on her list of things to do.

  Saying goodbye and walking away from Deacon stung more than it should have. A strange part of her wanted to turn around and tell him she’d call him later. She told herself that he’d been a comfort and that was the feeling she was hanging on to. Her mind railed against putting him in the friend zone and especially with the way sexual tension pinged between them every time he was near.

  The chief’s door was still open, so she tapped on the glass. She threw her shoulders back in order to fake confidence and forced herself to clear her throat to get the chief’s attention.

  Chief Dillinger glanced up from the screen he’d been studying like he was in the middle of taking the MCAT and his future depended on the outcome.

  “Come in.” He had that stern voice that he’d probably used with perps when he was on the street.

  “Sir, I apologize for—”

  “Sit down, Cordon.”

  Leah took a seat opposite from him. The chair wasn’t shorter like executives used to give the illusion of being taller and, therefore, more dominant. Dillinger had more height compared to most normal men. Deacon was six feet four inches, tall even by Texas standards. Dillinger didn’t need to manipulate a chair to show his authority. He was a good chief.

  “A senior detective has been talking about you.” He stared at her as he steepled his fingers before placing them on top of his otherwise neat and clear desk.

  She felt the heat from his glare.

  “Detective Dougherty might’ve overlooked key evidence in the Mitchell case,” she started before he stopped her with a hand up.

  “Get to your point.” His gaze narrowed.

  “He has the wrong guy locked up.” She hadn’t spoken to the suspect but trusted Deacon’s assessment. The guy’s investigative and observation skills were solid.

  “Did you interview Detective Dougherty’s suspect?”

  “No. But I jog that trail every night around the same time, sir. If the wrong man’s locked up, I want to know. I have reason to believe the killer is still out there.”

  The chief’s stare caused the temperature in the room to rise uncomfortably.

  “Mr. Kent’s prints were found at the crime scene,” Dillinger said. “That says he’s not particularly careful.”

  “He didn’t think he had to be. The area had already been taped off. What I want to know is why a detective would bother searching for prints after that.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Dougherty went back to lift prints a second time after he knew that Mr. Kent had been in the area,” she said.

  “And how did Dougherty know that?”

  “I called it in.” She explained that she’d been on the trail and had caught Kent there. She further explained the reason.

  Dillinger hiked a brow.

  She steadied herself for the blast that was coming next.

  “I’ve spent the last ten minutes studying the case file. I agree with your assessment of the suspect in custody. I also see the possible link between Ms. Mitchell’s killer and the activity on Mr. Kent’s ranch. I need to be clear on what I’m about to say next. I can’t have a citizen conducting his own investigation and, worse yet, prove a senior detective is letting his personal relationships color his judgment.”

  Leah bit back a curse. That meant the chief knew about her relationship with Dougherty.

  Dillinger leaned back in his chair. “Take some time off.”

  “I’m okay,” she quickly countered.

  “That’s not a request.”

  Chapter Ten

  Leah rolled her head from side to side, trying to loosen the tension in her neck as she tied her running shoes. It had been a long day. It was nine o’clock and had been dark outside for hours already. Her conversation with the chief kept circling back in her thoughts no matter how hard she tried to shut them down and redirect.

  Connor was sleeping and Riley was studying. Leah had held her son a little tighter tonight and figured her past emotions were catching up to her.

  F
ive days was the most she’d taken off in a row since making detective. She could tell herself that it was because she was focused on getting ahead, that she had tunnel vision, and part of that would be right. The other very real part was that digging into work was easier than dealing with parents whose love came with conditions and a husband who’d died shortly after a diagnosis and short bout with illness.

  They’d been married two months before the fatal news came.

  The feeling of eyes watching Leah caused the hairs on her neck to prick. She glanced around, realizing she was most likely being paranoid. It didn’t matter. She would never take an unnecessary risk.

  She brought her hand to the butt of her holstered Glock to rest as she scanned the street. There was nothing going on and no one around. The noise was nothing more than a burst of wind shuffling around leaves across the street on the sidewalk.

  Leah finished tying her shoes and stretched her hamstrings. She rolled her ankles around, keeping careful watch of her surroundings. And then she tucked her left earbud in place and cranked up “Bad Medicine” by Bon Jovi.

  A few minutes later, she started off toward her trail, walking at a faster pace than usual. Eyes and ears open, she knew it would be impossible to focus on her run while the real killer was still on the loose. At least the area was hot and that would make him less likely to strike again so soon. She had no idea if her popular running trail was the target of a murderer or if he’d strike anywhere he could isolate a victim. A chill raced down her spine as she picked up speed to a light jog.

  The cool night breeze toyed with her hair as she finally found her stride. It felt good to run. She thought about the rubber band around her wrist, about pulling her hair off her face, but she liked the way it felt as it whipped around in the chilly wind. Her hair down, covering her neck, kept her warmer. She’d left her jacket at home, wearing only a sweatshirt in case she needed quick access to her Glock.

  The turn at Porter’s Bend was a quarter of a mile away when she spotted a man sitting on the bench. Her heart gave a little flip. She knew exactly who he was. Deacon Kent.

  Leah pulled the earbud from her ear and let it dangle in front of her as she made a beeline toward Deacon. “What are you doing here?”

  On the bench next to him sat two cups of what looked like coffee.

  “Hoping to run into you.” He quirked a smile like he’d just figured out the double entendre. “Coffee?”

  The warm brew would feel good in her hands. She took the offering being held up.

  It was too hot to drink.

  “You just got here?” It wasn’t good that her routine made her so predictable in the greater sense. For now, she liked it. But if Deacon knew her schedule, then anyone could easily figure it out. Running outside in the cold had her ears and nose freezing while the rest of her was sweaty. It was strange how that worked.

  “I wanted to check on you after your meeting with the chief. Make sure he didn’t go too hard on you.” Deacon nodded as he stood.

  “Don’t get up for my sake.” She’d barely said the words when she realized he was cut from the kind of cloth that would make it impossible for him to sit when a lady stood next to him.

  “The bench isn’t all that comfortable,” he said by way of explanation, but she figured it had to do with a Cowboy Code. It was another nice thing she didn’t want to notice about Deacon Kent.

  For a split second they just stood there in silence. He was standing so close she could smell his woodsy aftershave. She flexed the fingers on her free hand.

  Eye contact was a bad idea. She knew the second their gazes met that she was in trouble again. Keeping her attraction in check with this man was proving far more difficult than she’d expected.

  “Something’s going on between us.” Boldly, his gaze never left hers.

  All she could say was, “Yes.”

  “The kisses—” he paused for a brief second “—they can’t go anywhere.”

  “I know.” She shouldn’t have felt let down at saying those two words out loud. They were true and she meant them on an intellectual level. Her emotions were getting the best of her. Deacon was the first man she’d been attracted to since... She should say the man she’d married but that wouldn’t have been true. No man had ever made her feel the way Deacon did.

  “Not because I don’t want them to,” he said.

  “Save me the it’s-me-and-not-you speech. Okay?” She would literally shrivel up right there in front of him if he recited that one. Embarrassment flamed her cheeks.

  He started to explain himself, but honestly she wasn’t in the mood for excuses. She put her hand up. “Seriously. I’m a grown woman. We kissed. I’m sure if we took it further, the fireworks would blow my mind. I’ve got a Jane Doe case I can no longer work thanks to my boss’s orders of a ‘vacation,’ a killer on the loose on my favorite jogging trail and you’re trying to track down a cattle butcher.”

  The chilly air was starting to penetrate her sweatshirt so she sat down on the bench. Besides, she needed to put a little distance between them. So it didn’t help matters when he took a seat right next to her. He was so close their outer thighs touched.

  A shiver rippled through her in sharp contrast to the heat pulsing up her leg from the contact.

  “How’d it go with your boss?” Deacon asked.

  “I’m on a forced vacation.” She shifted her weight away from him to create some distance. There was way too much heat radiating from him and he was right. An attraction now was too much of a distraction. It was most likely so intense because he was here on a cold night, showing up just when she needed someone to lean on.

  “That doesn’t sound good for your career.” A sharp sigh issued. “Maybe I should have a talk with Detective Dougherty.”

  “Won’t help. In fact, that might make things worse for me.” She wanted to explain her complicated history with Charles, but she also realized she and Deacon knew very little about each other. Another blast of frigid wind slammed into her and she shivered again.

  Deacon took off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. She thanked him but he made a gesture like it was no big deal. Considering he was pretty much the only man who’d done that for her, it was.

  Since she figured the best way to make Deacon run was to share a little about her life, she decided to go for it.

  “I have a kid.”

  “Boy or girl?” He didn’t seem shocked by the revelation. And then she remembered that she’d called home the other night and he must’ve overheard her talking to her sitter, checking on her child.

  “Boy. Connor’s three years old.”

  “My brother has young twins.” He laughed and it was a deep rumble in his chest. “They’re adorable but keep him hopping.”

  “Twins?” She couldn’t hide her shock. She couldn’t even imagine what that must be like, considering how much Connor kept her on her toes.

  “A boy and a girl,” he said.

  “Wow. Just wow.” Leah tried to wrap her mind around it and came up short. “He must be...tired.”

  She laughed despite herself.

  “The ranch has been busy to say the least.” Deacon’s smile looked so good on him.

  “Is that part of the reason you’re searching for the butcher? I mean, you have a wonderful family and it sounds like lots of little ones running around.” She couldn’t imagine that kind of loyalty but then she’d never had siblings. “You guys are close-knit, right?”

  “The butcher made his first mistake by stepping on our land. Kents are loyal to each other and to Texas. And, yes, we’re close. Some days too much.” He chuckled and the sound came from low in his chest again. She didn’t want to notice how sexy his voice was vibrating through the crisp night air. Or the inappropriate warmth it brought. All she really wanted to do was shut down that side of her altogether like it had always been so easy to
do in the past. “What about you? What about your family?”

  The questions caught her off guard.

  “It’s just me. I mean, I have parents, of course, but we’re not close.” Had she already opened up too much in their previous conversation? She didn’t want to go into a lengthy explanation about her parents not even knowing her son because they didn’t agree with her choice in men. Or the fact, looking back, she may have confused her feelings for Wyatt for real love because her parents were so opposed to the relationship in the first place.

  “They don’t see your son?” There was no condemnation in his voice like she’d expected. There was disbelief.

  “Not really. We go to lunch with them once a year on the day after his birthday,” she admitted. A surprising shock of pain stabbed her in the chest. When she heard herself say the words out loud, it sounded lonely even to her.

  “He has you and his father,” Deacon said.

  “I’m afraid it’s just me.” There was no pity in her voice. She didn’t feel sorry for herself. She’d allowed Wyatt to die in peace by not telling him about his son. Wyatt would never have forgiven himself for abandoning his child—he hadn’t—but he’d have never seen it that way.

  “Oh.” There was so much confusion communicated in that one word.

  “He died without knowing he had a child on the way.” The air whooshed from her lungs. She never spoke about it, and even though she took an emotional hit by doing just that, relief flooded her, too. She’d spent too much time locking up her emotions so she didn’t offend anyone.

  “I’m really sorry about that.” There was so much sincerity in his voice.

  “I knew but didn’t tell him.” Again, she expected judgment but found none. A rare feeling of acceptance crept over her.

  “I’m sure you had a good reason.”

  “Wyatt was his name. His own father wasn’t around and he had a lot of emotional baggage because of it. I often told him that sometimes no parent was better than two, but he’d tell me I should be grateful that I had people who cared about me.” She was on the one hand. But on the other, her life had been strangely isolating with her parents around. “This won’t make sense to you with your family background, but being with my parents made me feel like a third wheel. It was like they were in some kind of club that I didn’t belong to.”