by Morgan Blaze
Then last summer, Janie vanished and his mother died of an overdose. He’d gone down to attend the funeral alone…and met Winter, who at the time had seemed like just what he needed.
Apparently he’d been wrong about that.
“Hope I didn’t stir up too big a hornet’s nest.”
Ben’s voice jolted him from the memories. “No, it’s fine,” he said. “Dad’s doing all right. But then, he actually wanted to retire.” Dennis Rhodes had spent thirty years working for the county sheriff’s office, the last five of them in dispatch after he could no longer physically handle field work. Adam had always gotten a kick out of hearing dispatches from his father. “What are you going to do now, Ben?” he said quietly.
The older man shrugged. “Don’t know,” he said. “Not take up gardening, that’s for damned sure.”
“Good call. I’ve seen your yard.”
They shared a grin, but Ben’s features grew somber. “Adam…you need to watch out for your lady friend,” he said.
“She’s not my friend.” He spat the words out harsher than he’d meant to. After a calming breath, he said, “Why, is she out to get me?”
“Don’t think so. But someone might be out to get her.”
The warning edge in Ben’s voice worried him. “What are you talking about?”
Ben glanced around, as if making sure no one was there to listen. “She’s investigating something that’s been going on a long time. Something I haven’t been able to stop.” His words were heavy with regret. “And if she gets close…let’s just say there are people who’ll do a hell of a lot to keep her away.”
“This doesn’t make sense,” Adam said hoarsely. “She’s looking for paperwork mistakes. Mixed-up numbers.”
“She won’t find any, but she might find real trouble.” Ben’s eyes glittered in the orange glare of the parking lot lights. “Look, I know there’s some tension between you two. I won’t ask about that. But I will ask that whatever it is, you put it aside and look out for her. Maybe this whole thing’ll blow over.
“And if it doesn’t?”
Ben shook his head slowly. “We’ll just have to make sure it does.”
“Ben—”
“Guess I’d better get back to the party.” Ben’s voice was slightly raised, almost manic with enthusiasm. “I mean, I’m the guest of honor. So I’ll see you inside?” he said—and held a hand out.
Adam frowned. “Sure. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He extended his arm slowly, his expression puzzled as he shook hands.
And felt Ben press a scrap of paper against his palm.
“I’ll save a piece of cake for you.” With an odd, flat smile, the older man turned and walked back into the bar.
Adam stood there a moment, clutching the piece of paper and drinking beer he could no longer taste. If he didn’t know Ben so well, he’d think the man had a few screws loose—that either his age or his forced retirement had driven him a little insane. But there was nothing wrong with Ben’s mind.
Which left the more chilling idea that Winter really was in danger.
He waited until he was sure the parking lot was empty, and then slowly unfolded the note to read Pete’s Diner, 10 tomorrow night. Nodding to himself, he tucked the paper in his pocket and finished off the beer before heading inside.
Whatever it was, he’d be there for Ben.
Chapter 6
Winter didn’t have the best of starts that morning.
After she left the bar, she’d spent hours going over the paperwork again—both the files she’d brought, and those she’d made copies of at the station. Everything still matched the way it was supposed to, line for line. But on the six files that triggered her intuition, she’d noticed certain key figures had a strange, blurred quality to them. As if they’d been written in and later changed. The missing signatures really didn’t help, either. Knowing who’d signed off on them would at least give her a starting point. But she couldn’t be sure with the photocopies, so she’d set them aside to compare with the originals in the morning.
Then she’d slept badly, left the bed-and-breakfast before the community meal and walked to the nearest gas station, which had halfway decent coffee for a small place with an attached mechanic’s garage. Since she would be in town for a few days after all, she’d asked the man working there for directions to the nearest car rental company.
After he finished laughing at her, he’d told her there wasn’t one—but she could rent the loaner he kept for his garage customers, for fifty dollars a day. That was how she ended up driving a bright orange pickup truck with a wheezy transmission and a driver’s side window that wouldn’t close to the fire station.
Where it promptly blew a tire.
Holding back a very unprofessional curse, she climbed out and started poking around for tools. Eventually she found a spare tire mounted beneath the pickup bed, and a rusty jack shoved behind the seat. She’d only changed a tire twice, both times on cars, but it shouldn’t be too different.
Freeing the spare proved a bit more challenging than she expected. One of the butterfly screws didn’t turn easily, so she had to climb under the truck and use both hands, hoping the whole time that the tire wouldn’t come loose suddenly and fall on her. She crawled out, greasy and sprinkled with dust, and tried to feel for a jack point near the blown tire—though honestly, she wasn’t sure what a jack point felt like.
She finally located a spot that seemed solid. It took a few minutes to set the jack, and she began pumping the handle to raise the truck. It came up two or three inches, and then the jack started to lean a bit. After a few more pumps, there was a loud clank as the jack let go and clattered to the ground, dropping the truck back down.
Scowling, she kicked the flat tire—and stubbed her toe hard.
“Ow! You bitch!”
A low chuckle behind her made her gasp. She turned slowly, and to her dismay found Adam Rhodes standing there, smirking at her. “How did you end up saddled with Karl Jessup’s loaner?” he said. “Nobody takes the loaner.”
“I needed a vehicle, and—” Winter let out a breath that shook only slightly. She wasn’t going to start pouring her problems out to him. After last night, he’d probably just laugh at her. “I’m quite busy here,” she said. “Excuse me, Mr. Rhodes.”
“Want some help?”
Damn it. Yes, she did…just not from him. But if she refused, she could be out here for hours trying to change the stupid tire. She sighed and glanced at him. “Please,” she said. “If you don’t mind.”
“It’s no problem.”
He moved toward the truck and knelt to pick up the jack. She watched him for a moment, and said, “Mr. Rhodes—”
“Adam.” He half-turned with a faint smile. “This isn’t business, so call me Adam.”
“All right.” She really was hopeless at socializing. “I just wanted to say, I’m sorry about last night. I didn’t mean to be rude.”
He grimaced and rammed the jack into place under the truck. “I’m the one who should apologize,” he said. “I was overreacting. And you’re right, it’s none of my business.”
“Well, I was overreacting too.” She managed a smile. “Greenway.”
His brow furrowed. “What about it?”
“That’s where I live,” she said. “Greenway, in the city. I have an apartment.”
“Greenway.” He shook his head slowly. “Unbelievable.”
“What?”
“All this time, and you’ve been right down the road from me.”
The intense look in his eyes heated her blood, and she turned quickly to stare at something else. Anything but him. “Um…yes. Well,” she said. “The tire?”
“Right. Sorry.”
Winter bit her lip as he turned away to focus on raising the jack. She could’ve handled that better, too—might as well give herself the Most Awkward Subject Change award for that. But at least he didn’t seem offended this time.
“How can I help?” she said w
hen he started on the lug nuts.
“Er. Don’t take this the wrong way, but it’s faster if I do it myself.”
“Are you…” Sure, she started to say—but he’d already taken two of them off and was loosening the third. “Oh. I guess you are fast.”
“Way easier than changing an engine tire.” He flashed a grin over his shoulder and removed the last lug with a few quick twists. “You’ll want to have Karl repair this as soon as possible,” he said, wrenching the flat tire off with a brief grunt. “That spare doesn’t look like it’s in the best shape. He can put it back on for you once it’s patched, or just get you a new tire. Oh, and don’t let him charge you for it, because he’ll try.”
She looked at him uncertainly. “I’m not sure I can stop him. From charging me, I mean.”
“Sure you can,” he said. “Just tell him it’s business.”
She went still. He might as well have slapped her.
His smile faded into a puzzled expression. “What’s wrong?”
“I said I was sorry,” she told him stiffly.
“Oh, no. I didn’t mean…” He set the flat tire on the ground and moved toward her. “I was just saying, be firm with him. He’ll try to snow you a little, because you’re not from town. But you’re good at being…well, stern.”
She shook her head. “I’m not stern. I’m just terrible at talking to people.”
“No, you’re not,” he said. “I like talking to you.”
Why? she wanted to say—but he was so close, she could barely breathe. Her heart pounded as she made herself meet his gaze, those startling blue eyes she’d nearly drowned in the first time they met. God, how badly she wanted to kiss him.
And then, suddenly, she was.
She couldn’t tell which one of them made the first move. One moment they were standing a breath apart, the next his lips were on hers, his hand on her arm and hers on his waist, and she could’ve sworn she heard ocean surf, smelled salt water on the air, felt sand beneath her feet. But those memories paled beside the sensations he ignited in her—with his mouth, his fingers, his tongue.
This was completely inappropriate, and she really had to stop it. But she didn’t even try. Wasn’t sure she wanted to.
Adam broke off abruptly. “Shit,” he said, stepping away with faint disgust on his face. “I’m sorry. That was really stupid.”
It took Winter a few seconds to recover. Hiding her unexpected disappointment, she nodded and straightened the hem of her shirt. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “Here, I’ll take care of this.” She walked past him to the flat tire leaned against the truck, carefully avoiding his gaze, and started rolling it toward the back end.
At least now she knew he wasn’t actually attracted to her. That should make things easier to deal with for the next few days.
Right now, though, it seemed harder than ever.
* * * *
Adam wanted to kick himself.
He’d seen the look in her eyes when he pulled away—shocked, startled, maybe even horrified. Damn it, what happened to letting it go?
The plan was to not even talk to her unless he had to. Ben wanted him to watch out for her, and he could still do that from a distance. But he couldn’t help feeling bad for her when he realized Karl must’ve swindled her into renting his piece-of-shit truck, and saw her getting dirty and disheveled while she struggled to change the tire.
He’d only meant to help. Kissing her had not been part of the plan.
Now she was colder than she’d been when she first arrived in town. He didn’t think that was possible. She’d stood by in silence while he finished changing the tire, and then asked him in frosty tones to bring her back to the records room.
He showed her upstairs, and was about to leave when she said, “Wait, please.”
At least she’d warmed up a bit. She said please. Suppressing a sigh, he turned from the door and raised a questioning eyebrow.
“I’m interviewing all of the staff today. Since you’re here, we may as well start with you.” She gestured at the small, round table off to the side where she’d spent most of yesterday reading files—at least, that’s where she’d been every time he checked on her. “Have a seat,” she said.
Adam shook his head and moved to the table in silence, feeling her gaze on him the entire way. He should’ve known it would be about business.
“By the way,” she said softly. “Thank you for changing that tire. I do appreciate it.”
He nodded. “You’re welcome.”
For just an instant, the cold disdain left her eyes and her features relaxed. He caught a glimpse of the woman he’d first met on the beach. Magnetic and burning hot with passion, fully alive. Then she turned to the nearest file cabinet, and the set of her shoulders firmed as though she’d willed her emotions away.
Whether she ran hot or cold, she still fascinated him.
He waited as she thumbed through file folders—quickly at first, then a pause as she pulled the drawer out further and stared into it. She went through them again, methodically. Paused. Finally she said without looking at him, “Adam…could you come here a moment?”
At least she hadn’t called him Mr. Rhodes. Frowning, he pushed back from the table and approached her. “What’s wrong?”
“Some of these are missing.”
“Missing?”
“Yes. Six files, to be precise,” she said. “Four accident cleanup claims and the expense reports for the past two years.”
He frowned. “That’s really…specific. How can you be so sure?” he said. “I mean, there’s a lot of files in here.”
“Because those are the files I spent hours reviewing last night. The copies I made yesterday are still in my bag.” She pointed to the soft leather briefcase she’d placed on the table. “But I need to look at the originals, and they’re not here.”
“You’re sure. You didn’t put them back in the wrong place, or something like that.”
She folded her arms. “As I recall, you put them back.”
“I didn’t—” He thought back to yesterday, remembering the uncomfortable conversation as she copied the stack of files, and wanting to get out of the room quickly. He’d still been reeling from the shock of seeing her again. So he’d returned them to the cabinet as she copied them. In the right places. “Yes, I did,” he said. “They must be in there.”
“Well, they aren’t,” she said. “And they copied badly, so I don’t even know who signed off on them. It could’ve been anyone.”
He stared at her. “You don’t think I…”
Before he could spit the rest of it out, the station alarm sounded.
Reacting instinctively, Adam moved for the door at a fast clip. It was probably something minor—around here, real disasters were few and far between. His hand was on the knob when the dispatcher’s voice came over the loudspeaker.
“Engine one, rescue four, respond. Single car accident, possible engine fire, corner of Crescent and Jefferson. Engine one, rescue four, respond corner of Crescent and Jefferson.”
Hearing “possible engine fire” shifted him into high gear. If there was someone still in the car, the engine could explode—or the occupant could burn to death. “Stay here,” he shouted as he yanked the door open, sprinting for the pole to the engine bay.
Right now, missing paperwork was the last thing on his mind.
Chapter 7
As usual, Dom drove like a maniac, but Adam didn’t mind so much today. At least Rescue Four was in decent shape—and this call might actually be an emergency. “You hear anything else on this one?” Adam half-shouted over the rumble of the diesel engine.
“Not much.” Dom took a corner hard enough to lift Adam’s side a few inches from the ground. “Single occupant. Some kind of truck.”
“Well, that’s about half the vehicles in this town.”
“Yeah. Really narrows it down.”
Adam grabbed the CB handset and paused. “Corner of Crescent and Jefferson,” he
said. “Isn’t that right at the bottom of Kings Hill?”
“Think so,” Dom said. “Why?”
He shrugged. “Just trying to guess what happened. It’s a little early in the day for the DUI crowd.” Kings Hill was a steep, curving road that led down from the high ridge bordering Covendale to the east. The place was a magnet for crashes in the winter—but it was late summer, and it hadn’t rained for days. “Brake failure, you think?”
Dom glanced at the CB in his hand. “You know dispatch doesn’t know shit,” he said. “And we’ll be on scene in less than one. Why bother?”
“I don’t know, man. I just…have a bad feeling about this one.” He replaced the handset slowly, for some reason thinking of Winter—the woman, not the season. But she’d been right there with him when the alarm sounded, and he’d told her to stay put. This call didn’t have anything to do with her.
Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling.
Dom slowed a fraction as he turned onto Crescent. Not far ahead, a sheriff’s department car with lights flashing was parked lengthwise on the road, and three road flares burned a bright row alongside it. “Man, they always beat us,” Dom said. “Who’s that, Nick Donovan?”
“Looks like.” The sheriff’s department and the FD worked closely in a town this size, so most of them knew each other. The big deputy was visible just beyond the car, bent over something outside the line of sight. That meant the victim was likely still in the vehicle. Adam’s gut clenched as he glanced at Dom, whose features were as tense as he felt. “This is a bad one.”
Dom raced the last few feet and slammed the brakes hard, throwing the truck into park. “Let’s move,” he said as he flung the door open. “Better grab the jump kit.”