by Zoe Chant
"Dad didn't have any use for that much money, though. My parents were working-class people, coming from good old-fashioned farmer stock. So they set up a foundation to redistribute the money to various charitable causes, especially ones having to do with helping kids grow up safe and strong. Over the years, my family has invested tons of money in everything from make-a-wish type programs for dying children to clean water for children in poor countries overseas."
"Okay, now it's ringing a slight bell," Axl said. "I think there was something in the news about that—something about a scandal at a major nonprofit?"
"That was probably us," she sighed. "Yeah, I grew up with the foundation being my dad's whole life. My mom died when I was young, so it was just the two of us. I always knew I was being groomed to run it after he retired. I majored in business, and over time I started getting more actively involved.
"By this point, most of the actual day-do-day operations of the foundation were administered by my dad's financial planner and friend, Dick Bannon. Dick and my dad were childhood friends from the old neighborhood. It was Dick who helped my dad set up the investments that made him wealthy. Dick did the same thing, but unlike my dad, who'd moved out of the stock market by the big crash in the last decade, Dick ended up having most of his wealth wiped out. My dad offered him a hand up, the same kind of help Dick had given him back in the beginning, so Dick came to help him administer the foundation.
"I could tell from the start that he was jealous of me. My father would have to retire someday, and before I graduated and came to work at the foundation, Dick probably saw his way free and clear to eventually taking over control of the whole thing. And Dick is old school. He's one of those guys who can't believe that a woman could possibly have a head for business. He thought if I got my hands on the foundation, I'd run it into the ground.
"I couldn't get Dad to believe it, though. Dick is his best friend, and was a rock for him after Mom died. And I didn't try all that hard, because I didn't want to drive a wedge between my dad and his closest friend. So I put up with all the little slights, like Dick trying to exclude me from major company decisions and cutting me out of email discussions and that kind of thing. It was terribly frustrating, but I knew the company was going to be in my name if Dad retired or, God forbid, passed on. We'd had all the paperwork drawn up as soon as I expressed interest in running the foundation. Of course I hoped my dad would stay at the foundation for a long time, but I was also confident that Dick couldn't possibly shut me out forever. Or so I thought."
She paused in her story when Axl took his hand off her foot. "I'm done with that leg," he said to her inquisitive glance. "Feel better?"
"I guess so." She wriggled her toes and set her bare foot back on the floor mat. "Before you get started on round two, I'd like to change back into my skirt, if you don't mind. I appreciate the loan of the shirt, but it's pretty wet—yes, I know I'm the one who did that, but it's not comfortable to sit in. Unless," she added with a frown, "you think my skirt is a deadly weapon or something."
Axl reached into the backseat, where she'd tossed the dark blue skirt when she got into the car, and hooked it with his fingers. It was in worse shape than her legs; loose threads had been pulled out, and there was a snarl of burrs and brambles caught in it. "Sure you want to wear this?"
"It's got to be better than sitting on a wet, coffee-stained shirt. I think your badge is digging into my ass."
Axl's face heated, and turned into a flaming blush when she unselfconsciously untied the shirt from around her waist, lifting her hips to do so without getting out of the seat.
"Oh, come on," she said at the look on his face. "You just had your face pressed to my leg, not to mention getting a view of my ass out there."
He wished she wouldn't remind him. He could still see the way her little pink-and-black lace panties had hugged the generous curve of her lush, round ass as she plastered herself to the fence. And now he had a brand-new view of the neat little pink satin "V" in the front, between the creamy expanse of her thighs, a perfect invitation to slide a hand—
—and then it all vanished as she lifted her hips again and scooted the skirt up over them. Axl tried to shift his position to hide the massive hard-on swelling between his legs. Nothing could happen, nothing would happen, not while he had her in his patrol car and still wasn't sure if he was going to arrest her or not.
Still, her eyes dropped to the bulge in his trousers, and he saw her smile slightly. She gave her hips a little wiggle as she adjusted herself in the skirt, and then kicked off her right shoe and lifted her leg, crossing it over the other and placing her bare foot in his lap. "Fix me," she said, wiggling her toes.
"So you were telling me about your father's best friend," he said hastily, steering the conversation back to business and trying to ignore the fact that her bare foot was inches away from his hard-on. Instead he worked on cleaning a nasty scrape above the rise of her ankle.
Her playfully flirtatious manner dropped away. "Yeah. Good old Dick. Boy, is that an accurate name if there ever was one.
"I should have known something was up when he stopped giving me the cold shoulder and started being all buddy-buddy. My dad was delighted, of course. From his point of view, I was the one who'd been unreasonable about Dick, and now we were getting along. Suddenly I was being given responsibility and I was able to immerse myself in learning about the company's operations. It was great.
"But then I started noticing discrepancies. Payments accidentally, or perhaps I should say 'accidentally', getting misfiled between accounts. Weird timestamps on some of the financial records. That kind of thing. Probably not the sort of thing I would have even noticed if I weren't busting my ass to prove to my dad and to Dick that I could handle things, working long hours and double and triple-checking figures even after the reports were already filed.
"It took awhile for my suspicions to blow up into certainty, but I was pretty sure Dick was robbing my dad blind. No wonder he'd tried to keep me out of things. He must have known that if I got into the records, I'd eventually realize that he was embezzling from the company.
"My big mistake was that I didn't go to the police or my dad immediately. I wanted to take the time to collect evidence so he wouldn't have a chance to hide his tracks. And, honestly, I dragged my feet because I didn't want to blow up my dad's whole world. It was going to devastate him to find out someone he trusted, someone he felt he owed everything to, was a lying snake and weasel who had spent years cheating him.
"But Dick made his move first.
"I left as normal on a Thursday night, and came in on Friday morning to find the police waiting for me, my computer being confiscated, and my dad standing there with the world's most disappointed look on his face."
Her face twisted in remembered anger.
"Turned out the reason why Dick gave me all those responsibilities was so he'd have a perfect fall girl for what he was planning. There was abundant evidence that I'd been all over the file system lately, opening doctored files and so forth—because I was trying to collect information on his crimes.
"I guess, if you followed the news at all, you'd know what happened next. I was hauled off in handcuffs, screaming at Dick and trying to punch him. Stupid, I know, but I was so incredibly furious, and now they thought I was dangerous and slapped an assault charge on me too.
"There was a huge scandal. I got tried in the court of public opinion before I even got a crack at a trial. Daughter steals charitable funds from sick children ... yeah, even I know it looks bad. And when I tried to tell my dad it was really Dick, all he could remember was all those times when I complained about Dick ignoring me or shutting me out in ways too subtle for my dad to see. It looked like I was trying to pin my own crimes on him out of an old grudge.
"As disappointed in me as he was, though, he pulled strings and posted bail to make sure I'd have an opportunity to spend the months before the trial at home. And that was when ..."
She stopped and pre
ssed her hand to her mouth. Her bare toes curled up, and without really thinking about it, Axl ran his thumb soothingly back and forth across the soft hollow below her ankle.
"There weren't a whole lot of things I did in this whole situation where I feel like I was the one who screwed my dad over," she whispered, her voice tight with strain. "It was all Dick. But this one is on me. I jumped bail a few weeks before my trial. I'd never have done it, unless ..."
Her composure cracked for the first time. Axl took his hand off her ankle and reached wordlessly for the box of tissues in the backseat.
"Thanks." She accepted a tissue, sniffled and blew her nose. She had pulled her leg back, and Axl missed its warmth in his lap.
"You okay?"
"I will be. I think this is the part that really hurts, though, you know? It seems so unreal. Being betrayed by Dick was bad enough, but he—he tried to have me killed."
Axl leaned forward, coming to attention. "Attempted murder? That's a much bigger step than framing someone for embezzlement."
"I know. I can still hardly believe it. I think he realized that letting me go in front of a court and tell them everything wasn't a good idea. He might have tilted the odds against me, but I still knew a hell of a lot of what he'd been up to. He had to stop me from talking."
"What did he do? Can you prove it?"
She shook her head. "No. It was one evening when Dick had come over for drinks with my dad—he was still coming to the house, while I was under house arrest, can you believe it? I had some tea with them to be polite, for my father's sake, but the tea tasted bitter so I hardly drank any of it, and then I started getting a massive headache, so I went up to my room.
"I lay down and tried to sleep, but awhile later, around eleven or midnight, I heard someone moving around in my room. I sat up and asked who it was. And they tried to put a pillow over my face."
"Jesus," Axl said. His bear bristled—even though the events she was describing must have happened months ago, his instincts still wanted to leap to her defense.
Tara swallowed. "We struggled. I think the tea was drugged, so he wasn't expecting any resistance. I've taken self-defense classes, and I kept trying to kick him in the nuts and the kneecaps. So he went out the window."
"Was it Dick?"
"No, someone else. Probably someone he hired. I didn't get a good enough look to pick him out of a lineup—though I saw the guy a little better later. But I'm getting ahead of myself here."
She paused, composing herself again.
"Anyway, after I got it together and turned the light on, I saw there was a mostly empty bottle of Scotch and a couple bottles of sleeping pills on my bedside table. This was all stuff from the house, although the sleeping pills were my dad's, an old prescription, and the bottle of Scotch had been full and unopened just the other day. I guess he was going to make it look like a suicide."
"Was your father all right?"
"That was my first thought too. I ran down the hall to his room. But he was fine. I got him up and took him back to my room with me, and he—" She stopped, and drew a shuddering breath. "He didn't believe me. He thought I was going off the deep end, staging fake murder scenes to try to convince him Dick was out to get me. I couldn't prove it, because the intruder didn't show up on any of the household security cameras. But, of course, Dick knew where all the cameras were, and he knew the code to turn off the alarms.
"I was afraid for my life. I was afraid for my dad too, and I still am, but you just try talking a fifty-five-year-old man into skipping town and violating bail restrictions. If I'm stubborn as hell, I get it from him.
"So, in the end, I did the only thing I could do. If I stayed, I was never going to make it to trial. Dick would see to that, and he'd do it in such a way no one would realize it was a murder. And then he'd be able to manipulate my father and eventually take over the company free and clear.
"One of the bail conditions was that I had to wear a monitoring anklet and stay in the house. I packed a few things, then cut off the anklet and ran."
"Just like that?" Axl was impressed. So was his bear. He knew from a professional standpoint how hard it was to evade a manhunt, especially for a completely inexperienced person. Most people slipped up and got caught immediately. "What did you do for transportation or money? You couldn't have used a credit card."
"No." Tara shook her head. "I took some cash with me. Remember, my dad grew up poor. He wasn't paranoid about banks or anything, but he knew firsthand what it was like to live paycheck to paycheck, and he'd seen his best friend and business partner lose everything in the stock market crash. So he kept a couple thousand in the house in cash, just in case. I knew the combo to his safe, and I took it."
She wiped her eyes again. "I didn't steal from my dad the way everyone thought I did, but in the end, I guess I did rip him off, after all."
"If it was family money, it was yours too," Axl pointed out. "And if he'd known you were in trouble and needed cash, he would have given it to you with no strings attached, wouldn't he?"
"Of course. But he didn't believe I was in trouble. And still doesn't. He thinks I left town to avoid going to trial. I've called him a few times from the road. It doesn't help. He won't listen to my warnings that his life may be in danger. All he does is try to talk me into coming back."
"At least you know he's all right."
Tara nodded. "I suppose so."
Recalling an earlier part of the conversation, Axl said, "You mentioned that you got another look at the guy who tried to attack you. Does that mean Dick is still after you?"
"Yes," she said. "He's got two guys on my tail—well, at least two, but those are the ones I've seen. For him, of course, the perfect solution is me disappearing after jumping bail and never being heard from again. So far I've been managing to stay a step ahead of them, but I guess I can't run forever."
"No one can," Axl said. "What are your plans, long-term?"
"To prove I didn't do it and that Dick did, of course. I want to see him go away for a long time. So all I have to do is gather evidence when he's had months to hide it all, stay ahead of his hired thugs and the law ..."
At the last, she darted a look at him from under her thick lashes.
"Well, Sheriff, you've heard my story." Her sky-blue eyes held him, challenged him. "Do you believe me? Are you willing to help me, or—" She nodded to the handcuffs at his belt. "—are you going to put me in jail where I'll be a sitting duck when Dick's goons show up?"
Axl thought for a moment. Then he reached for the radio.
"Base? This is Sheriff Tanner."
"Go ahead," Kitty's voice said.
"Kitty, I'm going to take the rest of the day as a personal day. I have a few things to take care of, and the deputies can handle things down there. I'll be out at the ranch if any emergencies come up."
"Roger that, Sheriff." With a smile in her voice, Kitty added, "Enjoy your day."
Axl hung up the mic.
"You believe me?" Tara asked. Despite her show of bravado, her voice shook.
"Let's just say you've given me a lot to think about. I'm not rushing to any conclusions." He leaned forward and started the engine.
"Where are we going? To this ranch you mentioned?"
"Yeah. The Circle B. It's my family's ranch. My brother runs it, mostly, but I live up there too."
"Look, Sheriff, I don't mean to look a gift horse in the mouth here, but I just told you that being around me could be dangerous. There are people trying to kill me. What if they come to your ranch?"
Axl looked at her with a smile, and then, just for a moment, he let his bear show in his eyes. Tara drew back with a startled gasp.
"If they do, I'm an armed officer of the peace. And my entire family are bear shifters. I don't think there will be any problems."
Chapter Four: Tara
Tara was silent as they drove down a narrow gravel road, past sprawling ranches with tiny dots of cattle visible in the distance. Telling Axl about the past
few months had exhausted her. But it was also a good kind of exhaustion, as if she'd purged poison by talking about it.
And most importantly, he believed her. She had begun, almost, to doubt herself. Axl's trust, tentative as it was, felt like a warm blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She wasn't making it up, she wasn't imagining things, she wasn't trying to justify her own deeds. Having just one person to believe in her made her feel as if she could accomplish anything.
The gravel road they were on was a washboard, and Tara, with her city-girl background, had expected this was about as bad as roads could get. But then they turned onto a dirt road that seemed like little more than a deer path. Tara gripped the seat as Axl expertly navigated the SUV over deeply worn ruts, mud puddles, and places where it looked like small streams had tried to wash the road out. At intervals, she caught glimpses of a river off to their left, visible through the trees. Sometimes it was very near the road; other times it was at the bottom of a dizzying drop.
"Do you commute down this thing every single day?" she asked, a little out of breath, as they jounced over a particularly muddy place where small logs had been laid across the road to drive on. Mud squished up from between the logs as the vehicle's tires rolled over them.
"Every day I'm not off," Axl said cheerfully. "The deputies keep asking why I don't move closer to town, but all I can say is, once you've gotten a taste of this country, it's hard to imagine living anywhere else."
Tara couldn't imagine living here, but she was polite enough not to say so. He was helping her, after all—providing protection, assistance, and a place to stay, when he could have just hauled her in to jail.
And besides, his nearness in the driver's seat was a heady distraction all its own. She could still feel the strength and yet exquisite gentleness of his hands on her legs as he doctored her small cuts and scratches. The inside of the patrol cruiser smelled like him, a musky male scent with something inutterably wild about it, like a breath of the forest in January.