Sugar and Sin Bundle

by Stacey Joy Netzel

  Tommy’s face darkened and he slammed his fist on the table, making their cups and plates jump. “Fuck no! We’re nothing like them. None of the Guardians were ever true Defenders. They should never have been allowed to join us in the first place. Their hearts are corrupt.” Relief flooded Rémi’s chest. If the Defenders and Guardians were to band together, he’d have no hope of returning a tribal police force to Blackriver.

  “Not true,” Grandfather said. “Their fundamentals are sound. They aren’t driven by a need for money and power. The Guardians want a return to the old ways. That’s all.”

  “Are you certain of that, Rakso?” Tommy asked. “Because I’m not. Chaz doesn’t call himself ‘The Jackal’ for nothing.”

  The Guardians had ulterior motives, Rémi was certain of it. He just couldn’t prove it yet. “Even if what you say is true, Rakso, blatant xenophobia and extremist measures aren’t the way to get what you want. In this day and age, even traditionalists need to work within the system.”

  Grandfather tightened his lips and locked eyes with Rémi. “A salmon works against the current to get back to its source.”

  “But salmon don’t go around threatening every non-salmon that crosses their paths.”

  Grandfather’s forehead creased. “Has something happened, Kwátere?”

  Rémi hesitated. Badmouthing his cousin in front of their grandfather wasn’t something he enjoyed. “There was a woman at the community center today. A white woman. Chaz accosted us in the parking lot. He said the usual bullshit to me.”

  Tommy tossed his food wrappers into a nearby garbage can. “He’s turned into such a bastard.”

  Rémi agreed. And it hurt. The three of them had been so close growing up as young boys on the rez. They’d been inseparable, like the Three Musketeers. “But what he said to the woman was worse. If that’s her only exposure to us, she’ll think we’re all blood-thirsty savages.”

  Grandfather cocked an eyebrow. “What exactly did he say?”

  Rémi squirmed. He really didn’t want to repeat Chaz’s sexual threat. Grandfather made a go-on motion with two fingers. Unable to meet his grandfather’s gaze, Rémi picked at his salad. “He told her he’d fuck her lily white ass until she screamed.”

  When neither Tommy nor his grandfather said a word, Rémi met their horrified expressions.

  Grandfather was the first to recover. “Who was this woman?”

  “Alyssa. I ran into her at the SQ station when I bailed Corey out of jail.”

  Tommy put down his drink. “Alyssa, eh? Is she hot?”

  “As fire. Blonde, about five eight, maybe a hundred and twenty pounds.”

  At his answer, Grandfather grimaced and put down his hot dog. “This is bad.”

  Rémi stared at his grandfather as various pieces started to fall in place. Grandfather said he’d been at a meeting to discuss the task force. A woman from the SQ had been there. Alyssa had said she was at the community center for a meeting. He’d met Alyssa at the SQ station…. Fuck. “Alyssa’s the SQ representative, isn’t she?” When Grandfather nodded, Rémi’s stomach fell. “But that doesn’t make any sense. She’s some sort of secretary or administrative assistant. Why would they send someone like that to head up a task force?”

  “Did she tell you she was a civilian?”

  “No. But she was wearing civilian clothing.”

  Grandfather took his time taking a bite of his hot dog, slowly chewing it. He followed that up with a sip of his soft drink. Rémi fought the urge to sweep all the food off the table. He needed to know who Alyssa was. Now.

  “Sergeant Alyssa Morgan has been with the SQ for six years.”

  Rémi’s jaw dropped. It was a few seconds before he managed to croak, “Sergeant Morgan? She’s a cop?”

  Tommy, the little shit, started laughing. “Not just any cop, Rémi. An SQ cop.”

  Un-fucking-believable. Of all the women in the world, he had to have the hots for a white woman who worked for the SQ.

  “There’s more.” Grandfather wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “Rémi, you will head up the task force along with Sergeant Morgan. Tommy, you and Councillor Redleafe will work with them. All four of you will have voting rights. And you will need to consult the Guardians before making any decisions.”

  Rémi dropped his head into his hands. This just kept getting better and better. Alyssa looked more like a model than a cop. Why would the SQ choose someone so nonthreatening to represent them? Something didn’t add up. “What did you think of her, Rakso?”

  “She was confident. I believe she’s fair in her thoughts.”

  “But do you think she’s tough enough to deal with the Defenders, not to mention the Guardians?”

  “You have concerns?”

  “I’m having a hard time even believing she’s a cop. When I met her, she was struggling to carry a box into the SQ offices.” To be fair, she hadn’t seemed rattled by Chaz’s posturing in the parking lot, even going so far as to get between the two of them when things almost turned physical. But he hadn’t missed the way her fingers had clenched his shirt when Chaz made his threat. And given the way Chaz had smirked, he hadn’t missed it either. Rémi raked a hand through his hair. “She seems too fragile. More like she belongs on a runway. Why would the SQ send us a Barbie Cop?”

  “Barbie Cop. I love that!” Tommy laughed. “I bet if she breaks a nail on the rez, she’ll call in the army.”

  Grandfather scowled at Tommy then turned to Rémi. “It sounds to me like you’re the one with the problem, Grandson.”

  You bet he had a problem. And it was standing tall and proud in his pants at the mere thought of Alyssa in uniform with a gun at her waist or better yet in her hand. What a pervert.

  How could he work with Alyssa when all he could think about was getting her Barbie Cop ass into bed?

  Alyssa double-checked the radar mounted on the dash of her cruiser and frowned. No error.

  The black Ford Fusion Hybrid clocked in at forty in a ninety kmh zone. No emergency lights flashed, and she could see no indication of mechanical failure. Even though it had been a few years since she’d sat in a patrol unit, she recognized the signs of a driver trying too hard. Intoxicated drivers drove at a turtle’s pace, hoping no one would notice their erratic maneuvering. This vehicle wasn’t zigzagging, but something was off.

  She pulled onto the road and began following the Ford. At the same time, she called in the vehicle’s license plate number. Seconds later, she was given the registration information. The car belonged to Rémi Whitedeer. Why would he be going so slow? Based on what little she knew of him, he was the last person she’d expect to find driving under the influence. Peering through the darkness, she made out the shape of the driver. Definitely not Rémi. The figure was too short and narrow-shouldered.

  The road was empty, and her instincts clamored for her to go after the car and force it to the side of the road. But in her head, she heard Gauthier’s voice: irregularities with your handling of the case… going rogue… follow the rules. Her fingers clamped around the wheel. She wasn’t a loose cannon. She would do this by the book. Even if it killed her.

  Turning on the lightbar and the siren, she closed in on the Ford. Normally that was enough to get people to pull over. But the car kept plodding along at forty kmh. Grabbing the microphone, she spoke to the driver via the public address system. “Please pull your vehicle onto the shoulder.” After repeating the command several times, she came up alongside the vehicle to get the driver’s attention.

  When she switched the siren to its most obnoxious setting—a combination of wails, horns, and yelps—the driver glanced her way. Behind the dark hoodie, all she could see was shadow. The driver threw something out the open window, then floored the gas. The chase was on.

  With sirens blaring and lights flashing, she continued to address the driver over the P.A. system. They were going one-hundred-fifty kmh and this road led straight onto the reserve. She’d have to go around the car and block it. Gaut
hier would be pissed if she totaled the cruiser, but too bad. He’d be even more pissed if some hapless kid from the reserve got hit during a high-speed chase.

  She started to maneuver the cruiser into the second lane when the Ford swerved onto the shoulder and stopped. The passenger side door flew open and the hooded figure, clearly male, jumped out. He ran into the trees lining the road. Alyssa pulled in behind the Ford, switched on the right alley light to illuminate the woods, then set off after him.

  Since ending her undercover detail, she’d been running ten kilometers a day and training in martial arts. And thank goodness for that. By the looks of it, the perp was an Olympic sprinter. Fifty meters into the woods and beyond the reach of the alley light, she could barely see more than two feet ahead. Focusing on her breathing, she clambered over bushes and dodged tree branches while pulling her flashlight off her belt. She aimed the beam on the runner, who seemed to be heading in the general direction of the reserve.

  A minute later, a piercing sound made her forget her breathing technique. Crap. A train was coming. Where are the tracks? Lifting her flashlight, she scanned the area. There they were, straight ahead. If he crossed the tracks ahead of the train, she’d lose him.

  As she closed in on the perp, the train’s whistle got louder. He had a few inches and a good forty pounds on her. How was she going to stop him? She looked from the train to the man. Her heart leapt into her throat. The train was going too fast and the perp was running too slow. He was going to get hit. “Stop!” she shouted. But he kept running. Oh God. This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t going to happen. Not on her watch.

  The train was so close that its headlights illuminated the area. Alyssa threw her flashlight to the ground and pumped with her arms. She forced herself to run full out despite the rough terrain and the stitch in her side. The train bore down, its whistle a continuous wail, and the man hesitated. Too close! His feet were on the ties.

  Alyssa dug in, leapt, and tackled the man. Momentum propelled them both across the tracks. They slammed onto the hard ground as the train whizzed past. Leaves, branches, and dirt showered down on them while he struggled to get out from under her. How did he have enough air left to fight her? She was so light-headed the trees were spinning.

  “That better be your gun poking into my ass, dude.”

  Dude? She dropped her forehead onto the kid’s back and laughed in relief. Thank God he hadn’t been hit. But far from thanking her for saving his life, the kid continued to twist and turn, attempting to buck her off his back. After gulping down a few lungfuls of air, she said in her best authoritative cop voice, “Don’t fucking move!”

  “Let go of me. I know my rights. This is First Nations’ land.”

  “Learn the facts, kid. Until there’s tribal cops again, I am the law.” She pinned the kid’s hands to the ground above his head and raised herself up so her knee dug into his back, immobilizing him.

  “When the Guardians are in charge of the rez, you won’t dare try something like this again.”

  Alyssa skin crawled at the reminder of Chaz and what he’d said to her. Grabbing the cuffs from her belt, she snapped them on his wrists, then helped the kid to his feet. “What’s your name?”

  “None of your fucking business.”

  “Make this easy on yourself, kid. I’ll find out one way or another.”

  “You can call me He Who Kicks Ass.”

  “I prefer Pain in the Ass. Let’s go.” She retrieved her flashlight and pushed him in the direction of the cars. Several times during the five-minute trudge through the woods, he tried to get away from her. Unsuccessfully. Arriving at the road, she shoved him against the cruiser and patted him down. Then she turned him around and pulled the hoodie back. The beam of her flashlight caught his face. It was Corey Simon. The kid Rémi bailed out last week. The same kid Rémi was counseling daily on Gauthier’s orders. “You again?”

  Corey’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re a cop?”

  She should arrest him. Take him back to the station and book him. Because he’d broken the bail agreement, he’d do some time. But what would that gain her? Gauthier would be happy she’d followed the rules, but it wouldn’t help her win over Rémi and the residents of Blackriver. Letting Corey off with certain conditions would show Rémi that, like him, she wanted to help the kids from the reserve, not turn them into hardened criminals. “Why did you run?”

  He threw his head back and laughed, ignoring her question. “I can’t believe I got brought down by the SQ’s answer to Paris Hilton. God, don’t let anyone see me with you.”

  “That’s Sergeant Hilton to you, kid.” She grabbed his chin and turned it toward the Ford. “What do you suppose Rémi’s going to say when he finds out you stole his car?”

  “I didn’t steal it. I borrowed it.”

  Seeing the petulant expression on Corey’s face, she almost laughed. He really was just a kid. One who’d be much more useful to her free and in her debt. After all, a cop could never have too many informants—voluntary or not.

  “Uh-huh.” She leaned in close to smell his breath and shined the light in his face. As she’d suspected, his dark eyes glared back at her, red and glazed. “And what do you suppose he’s going to say when he finds out you’re high?”

  CHAPTER 4

  “What’s your preference? A Blonde or a Noire?”

  Rémi’s head jerked up. Why the fuck did Tommy care if he preferred blondes or brunettes? But when he saw the two bottles of Boréale his cousin was holding, he grinned. “A Blonde. Definitely.” He jumped down from the back of Tommy’s pickup, with his grandfather’s new laptop tucked under his arm.

  Tommy opened the beer and handed it to him. “Not much of a surprise.”

  “Got a problem with that?”

  “Not really. As long as you remember who you are and what’s important. Janet told me you broke up with Carla.”

  To keep from lashing out at his cousin, and because the night was hotter than hell, Rémi upended his bottle and downed half of it. Who he slept with, or didn’t, was no one’s business but his own. He knew his duty, and he’d do it. “Get off my case. I don’t see you married with kids.”

  Tommy held his hands out, palms up. “Hey. I get it, man.”

  “Then why bring it up?”

  “I guess I’m worried about you. It’s natural you’d be attracted to white women.”

  “Why? Because I’m half white?” Rémi threw himself down on the front steps and slammed the bottle against the wood with a hollow thunk. Tommy and his sister Janet meant well, but what was he supposed to do? Never leave Blackriver? He liked women, all kinds. As long as he didn’t get serious, he could date whoever he wanted.

  “You know that’s never meant anything to me. You’re as much Iroquois as I am. But the membership rules are what they are. Why don’t you let Janet set you up with her friend, Nancy?”

  Resigned, Rémi said the only thing that would get Tommy off his back. “I’ll think about it, okay?” The way today’s tribes twisted the Iroquois membership traditions made him feel too white to be Indian and too Indian to be white. If he didn’t marry a native woman, his children would have no place in the tribe. All because he himself teetered on the brink of being too white to belong.

  A powerful engine rumbled down the street. Rémi peered into the darkness. “That’s an SQ patrol car.”

  Tommy frowned. “They aren’t supposed to come here unless they’re called.”

  Rémi moved to the edge of the road as the cruiser neared them and slowed down. Tension stiffened his neck. The SQ on the reserve at night could only mean trouble. When the cop put the car in park, the interior lights came on. Seeing Alyssa step out in full SQ uniform, a tan short-sleeved shirt and military green pants complete with a bulletproof vest and gun, Rémi’s pulse quickened and all his blood headed south. Fuck, she was sexy. Opening the back door, she hauled a kid into the street.

  Standing beside him, Tommy whispered, “Is she the Bar—” Rémi slappe
d his arm to cut him off before he could finish his all-too-obvious question. The ass started laughing. “Suddenly our chat at Costco makes a lot more sense.”

  Rémi cut him a sharp look. Tommy lowered his voice and leaned into him. “She’s fucking hot.”

  Rémi rolled his eyes. Yeah, he already knew that. All too well.

  “I brought you a present,” she called out, pulling the kid’s hoodie back. The Boréale Blonde curdled in his stomach. What the hell had Corey done this time?

  The porch light reached the street and even though his instinct was to jump in and take charge of the situation, he held back and assessed the pair standing beside the cruiser. Alyssa’s uniform was dirty and disheveled. Long strands of hair had come loose from her ponytail, and she had a bleeding scratch on her cheek. He peered at Corey. A bruise darkened one side of the kid’s jaw and his hoodie had a dirt-encrusted tear on the elbow, as if he’d skidded on it. Rémi frowned. “What’s going on, Sergeant?”

  Doors were slamming up and down the street as the neighbors came to see why there was an SQ cruiser in front of Grandfather’s home. Corey made like a turtle, ducking his head as far down as he could. “Can’t we go inside, first?” Corey whined.

  Alyssa turned back to Rémi. “Your decision.”

  He motioned toward the house. Corey twisted his shoulders, trying to pull away from Alyssa, but she yanked him back, like a dog on a leash. “Settle down or we’ll do this in front of an audience.” Corey snarled but walked to the house without any more attempts at escape.

  As soon as they entered the living room, Raksótha rose from his rocking chair and turned off the television Rémi had just finished setting up. Immediately, Alyssa turned to him. “Good evening, Chief Whitedeer. I’m sorry to interrupt your evening, but Corey asked me to bring him here.”

  Grandfather inclined his head. “Sergeant Morgan.”

  “Morgan? You said your name was Hilton.”

  Alyssa shot Corey an annoyed glance. “That was a joke, kid.”