Before leaving, Chaz picked out a dozen donuts for Sarah and the boys. While waiting for the teenaged clerk to box-up his order, he dialed Corey’s cell. “Kwe kwe kid,” he said when the boy answered.
“Chaz. What’s up?”
“Remember the other night when I said you’d need to prove yourself? Well now’s your chance.”
“Sure, man. Anything.” Corey sounded eager and terrified at the same time, and Chaz almost felt sorry for the boy.
“I’m having important visitors tomorrow evening, and I need our friendly neighborhood sergeant out of the way. If she stays away for good, even better.”
Even over the phone connection, he heard the boy swallow and the waver in his voice. “Uh, okay. No problem.”
Chaz smiled as he ended the call. Things were looking up. By tomorrow night, this arrangement with the Vipers would be a done deal. And if Corey did his job properly, he’d be that much closer to saving the kid and having a new Guardian, and Rémi’s SQ whore would be out of the picture. Perhaps permanently.
All during their working lunch with Martha, Alyssa’s mind kept wandering to wholly unprofessional thoughts about the man sitting beside her. If she didn’t get a handle on her libido, Rémi and his fabulous body were going to be the death of her career.
His long fingers gripped the steering wheel as he backed the Ford Fusion out of the councillor’s driveway. What would it feel like to have those fingers brushing her skin, teasing her nipples, stroking her—?
“What are you so happy about?” he asked, interrupting the natural progression of her thoughts. Her heart started skipping like a schoolgirl playing jump rope. Light danced in his jade green eyes as he watched her. “Whatever it is, I hope I’m responsible.”
Swallowing to relieve her suddenly parched throat, she cranked up the air conditioning and steered her mind away from Rémi’s physical magnificence and back onto business where it belonged.
“Lunch with Martha went really well, didn’t it? In fact, this whole day’s been fantastic. Did I tell you I met some teens from the reserve while I was having breakfast at that little bagel place near the motel?” Rémi shook his head, still smiling like a fool. “I introduced myself and told them about the task force. One of them, a friend of Ellie’s, brought up the fight at the diner.”
Rémi flushed and got busy shifting the car into drive. “Not one of my better moments,” he finally said.
Alyssa laughed. “Actually, you came off like some sort of hero. From what I could tell, Pete’s not Mr. Popular.”
“You ever heard the old saying: it’s better to be feared than respected? Pete’s onboard with that one hundred percent.”
“It’s not helping the Guardians’ cause any. When I asked the kids how they’d feel about the Guardians providing law enforcement, they said they’d prefer the SQ.”
Rémi’s eyes flashed to her before returning to the road. Knuckles white, his fingers clenched around the wheel.
“What?”
He hesitated. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’ve got to keep in mind who these kids are. If they’re friends of Ellie’s, chances are they’re from band council families.”
“So?”
“So, for the most part, they haven’t been raised with the same beliefs the traditionalists have.”
“You were raised traditionally, weren’t you?”
Rémi’s response was a slow and hesitant yes.
“And you’re not completely against the idea of an SQ native squad, are you?”
The Fusion slowed and Rémi did a quick check over his shoulder before turning onto the main road into town. His lips pressed together and he seemed to be hoping she’d forget her question. “Come on, Rémi. Tell me what you think. If I can’t get the truth from you, I might as well pack my bags.”
“There are a lot of things you don’t know.”
“Obviously.”
“I believe in the Longhouse spiritual traditions, and the Longhouse political system. But the truth is, things have gone too far for us to go back to the old way of life. If we were truly sovereign, then maybe. But we aren’t, so we can’t ignore the foreign governments.”
“What’s the alternative?”
“The band council. Traditionalists hate to admit it, but the council has kept this community afloat. Blackriver has paved streets, decent housing, schools, teachers, a fire department, the first responders, and until four years ago, its own law enforcement.”
“How are these things being paid for?”
“Band investments and government grants.”
“I’m getting the picture. Everyone’s happy with the things the money brings, they just don’t like that it feels like a handout. So they resent the council for doing what needs to be done.”
“Basically.”
“And if agreeing to an SQ native squad is the only way to get a police force back here… then what?”
“It’s not as simple as checking a box on a voting slip. This is all tied in with our history, our culture and heritage. Our future.” He shot her a sideways glance. “And we have a very bad history with the SQ. A history most don’t want to see repeated.”
“You mean the 1990 Oka and Akwesasne Crises.”
“Indian Summer.” He chuckled, the sound so dark it shocked her. “That entire summer was just one disaster in a long line of disasters. Our problems with white law enforcement started well before that and continue to this day.”
“Problems worse than the Mohawk Warriors killing an SQ officer?” she snapped.
After stopping at a red light, he turned to her with a narrowed gaze. “Do you know anything about what happened?”
Alyssa bristled. What did he take her for? Some newbie recruit? She wouldn’t have come into this situation without at least some background information. “Of course I do. Canadian and American forces worked together to free the Akwesasne Reserve from external extremist forces.”
“External extremist forces? You should’ve gone into politics, Sergeant. The Mohawk Warriors can be a little radical in their methods, but they aren’t freaking Al Qaeda. Something had to be done to free our people from nine months of Canadian military occupation.”
“It wasn’t an occupation. The chiefs pleaded with the government to help them. The fight between the pro-and anti-gambling factions was escalating. So at their request, we went in. What’s wrong with that?”
“What’s wrong is that children were taken out of school, families were displaced. People died.” His voice broke and he looked away.
Alyssa watched his face as they waited for the light to change. Tension radiated from the sharp line of his jaw and the furrow between his dark brows. She wanted to reach out to him, take away some of his pain. But she had the feeling her touch wouldn’t be welcome. “Clearly, we have different perspectives. The truth probably lies somewhere in the middle.”
The light changed to green and Rémi put the car in gear. Anger tightened his skin, accentuating his high cheekbones. “What about Kahnesatake? I bet the SQ’s taught you nothing but truths about that.”
She stared out the window, carefully weighing her words as they passed shops and restaurants on the small town’s main strip. As tightly wound as Rémi was, one wrong word could set him off, and she didn’t know him well enough to anticipate his reaction. Not that she was afraid of a good fight. “The SQ was called in when a land dispute between the Kahnesatake Reserve and the City of Oka turned ugly.”
Rémi scoffed. “They wanted to build a golf course over a Mohawk burial ground!”
“Whatever it was, the Canadian government eventually purchased the land and turned it over to the band members.”
“But only after the army, the SQ, and the RCMP laid siege to the reserve. Do you know what that felt like? People, my people, were trapped in their homes or in the treatment center with very little food or water for seventy-eight days. That’s over two and a half months of intimidation. They shot weapons, lobbed tear gas and flash-bang gr
enades into the reserve, and buzzed it with low-flying planes. They didn’t care that women, children, and elders were involved. Would they have treated a white community the same way?”
What could she say? Nothing could change the past. She knew that all too well. “As terrible as that might have been, those events took place more than twenty years ago. Things have changed.”
Rémi shook his head. “Since the first white man climbed off his boat and set foot on this land, natives have been paying the price. Every clash is a battle for power, authority, and most of all, justice. But like I said earlier, there’ve been many more recent incidents.”
“Like what?”
He paused, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “I could tell you, but I think you’d get a better sense of things if you talked to Tommy.”
“Why him?”
“He witnessed some of those events. If nothing else, it might help you understand how deeply anchored the resentment is between First Nations people and the SQ. No one but kids too young to remember would even consider the idea of a squad of native SQ officers patrolling Blackriver.”
“One of the councillors said something about using locals. So, what about an SQ-led team of local officers?”
“Anything involving the SQ would be a no-go.”
Every muscle in her body tensed. “What about you, Rémi? Are you saying you’d reject any SQ-led proposal?”
He rubbed a hand across his neck before replying. “Yeah, that’s what I’m saying.”
Alyssa leaned back in the seat and folded her arms across her chest. Shit. And here she’d thought he’d be an ally. “I don’t get it. You worked for the Montréal PD. Last time I checked, they weren’t a native law-enforcement agency.”
“That’s different. I only joined to learn about community policing methods and tools that I could bring back to the rez.”
“So, if the SQ could offer to show you our latest technological and strategic advances, you’d work for us?”
A shudder wracked his entire body and the car swerved before he regained control of it. Teeth clenched, he ground out, “Never.”
Her neck and shoulders stiffened and blood pounded in her ears, drowning out everything but the last thing he’d said. Never. With that one word, she saw her future with the SQ disappearing. If even Rémi’s resentment ran so deep, what chance did she have of establishing her squad? Absolutely none. What the hell was she doing here? Landry and Gauthier should have known how the band members felt, should have warned her not to get her hopes up. Instead, Landry had led her to believe the whole thing was a no-brainer and even insinuated that she’d fucked it up. “Stop the car.”
Rémi’s gaze darted to her. “What?”
“Stop the car. Now.” She’d rather walk back to the motel than stay where she wasn’t wanted.
As soon as Rémi pulled over, she pushed the door open and jumped out. Walking along the unpaved shoulder, she’d gone only a few meters before a car door slammed and gravel crunched behind her. Rémi gripped her arm. “Talk to me.”
Twisting her wrist, she tried to pull out of his grasp. His hold was firm, but gentle. If she were so repugnant to him that he actually shuddered thinking about the SQ, why would he care about not hurting her? Tears pricked the back of her eyes. With her free hand she pinched her leg to distract herself. But the touch of Rémi’s soft fingers caressing her chin undid her.
Unable to stand the concern in his expression, she ducked her head. Her vision blurred. With jerky movements, she wicked the moisture away with the back of her hand. She refused to cry. Refused to give credence to every macho asshole who’d ever griped about women being too emotional to be good cops.
He tipped up her chin until their eyes met. “Alyssa. Tell me what’s got you so upset.”
Did she have to draw the man a fucking picture? His rejection burned. Why did it feel so personal? They had nothing more than a professional association. Except she’d wanted more, hadn’t she? “You must really hate me.”
His face paled as he continued to stroke her face. “Why would you think that?”
Like a warm breeze, his low voice slid over her skin. God, she really didn’t want to deal with this, with him, right now. “You couldn’t have looked more revolted if you’d been standing neck deep in a pile of manure.”
“We were talking about the SQ, not you.”
“But that’s just it: I am the SQ.” She tugged on her wrist and this time, he let her go. Turning away from him, she pulled in a lungful of air. Warm hands held her shoulders and she felt his heat against her back. Her body swayed. What would it feel like to let herself go and accept his strength? Let him pull her against his body and envelope her in his comfort? It would feel like heaven. Until he pushed her away, again.
He leaned in close and whispered, “The SQ is your job, not who you are. You’re a beautiful, intelligent, strong woman. And I’m far, far from hating you.”
Slowly she turned to face him, staying in the circle of his arms. The heat in his eyes when their gazes met turned her knees to rubber. Standing so close, she’d only have to go up on her toes and raise her chin ever so slightly for their mouths to touch, for her to finally experience the fullness of his lips. The look on his face told her he wouldn’t say no.
As she was about to put thought into action, he dropped his hands and stepped back. “Let’s get you home,” he said, rounding the car to open her door.
The crack in Alyssa’s heart widened. He’d wanted her just then, and he’d wanted her yesterday at the diner. Obviously, he hated her job more than he liked her. When the fog of lust cleared, all he saw was the tan and green of her SQ uniform.
Nails digging into her palms, she slipped into the passenger seat. Within minutes, Rémi pulled into an empty spot in front of her motel room. Alyssa grabbed the door handle and was out of the car before he’d stopped the engine. Leaping onto the low porch, she slipped her room key out of the side pocket of her purse and unlocked the door.
Her nose recognized the overwhelming copper scent before her eyes could take in the scene. Blood.
CHAPTER 7
Alyssa stood frozen in the open doorway of her motel room. Rémi raced up behind her and placed a hand on her back. “What’s wrong?”
Horrified, she couldn’t speak, which horrified her even more. The scent of blood shouldn’t affect her this way. But this was worse than that. This was the stink of death.
He edged around her, peering inside the dimly lit motel room. “What the—?” he said, covering his nose with his hand. Using the hem of his T-shirt, he flipped on the lights. “Shit. Turn around, don’t look.” Her pulse started to race. What was going on?
Ignoring his order, she stepped forward and gagged on the overpowering stench of the dead thing spread out on her bed, marring the crisp white covering. Pinching her nose, she took a few cautious steps to get a closer view of the bloody tangle of skin, bones, and entrails.
The poor animal had been so badly mangled it was almost unrecognizable. About as large as a mid-sized dog, the beast had no fur and its short legs ended in cloven hooves.
Rémi grabbed a pen from the desk by the window and pushed back a piece of bedspread that partially covered the animal, revealing a snout.
Like air escaping a popped balloon, her lungs emptied. “Oh my God,” she gasped, pressing a hand to her throat. “It’s a pig!” Even though she’d suspected this probably wasn’t a random act of violence, the dead pig cemented it. It was meant for her.
Rémi wrapped an arm around her shoulders and tried to press her face to his chest. Pushing out of his hold, she stepped away from him and hugged her arms around her waist. A shudder shook her as her gaze returned to the carnage on the bed.
The spatter pattern on the wall and the amount of blood flooding the bed indicated the young pig had been slaughtered at the scene. In a very gruesome way. Had it fought back? She glanced up at Rémi and swallowed. “Looks like the killer swung it around as it bled out.”
“I can handle this. Besides,” she said, offering him a shaky smile, “I’m the cop, remember?”
“Okay, I get it.” He held up his hands in surrender before turning away to examine the rest of the scene. Markings along the wall led to the back portion of the room. “These aren’t random spatters,” he said, using the pen in his hand to flick a light switch midway through the room. “I see something back there.”
Together they stepped closer to examine the wall. Fuck. Scribbled with the animal’s blood, the killer had left a message.
Pigs should keep their snouts to themselves.
Her lunch rolled in her stomach and filled her throat. She stepped backwards, swallowing repeatedly. “Uh… I’m going outside to call this in.” With quick steps, she exited the room. Turning her face to the sun, she inhaled deeply and let the blistering heat cleanse her thoughts.
The slaughtered pig and the message were clearly references to her job. Someone wanted her to leave the area, to leave St. Xavier. But who? The Guardians? Chaz and Pete had certainly hated her at first sight. But would they go this far to scare her away? Would they go even further?
Through the open doorway, Rémi watched Alyssa pace back and forth, her chest expanding as she drew in deep breaths of fresh air. Air that didn’t smell like blood.
Her skin was even paler than usual, and her fingers shook as she dialed a number on her phone. A normal reaction to the invasion of her privacy, but tough-as-nails Alyssa would see it as a sign of weakness. He’d give her a few minutes alone to compose herself. He could use a time-out too.
Something dark twisted deep inside him, something profound and animalistic. An instinct to defend and protect. His hands clenched into fists at his sides as he imagined pounding the face of the asshole responsible until it resembled the miserable mess on Alyssa’s bed.
The SQ could have a few days to investigate, and if they failed to find who’d done this, he’d go after the spineless coward himself. He had a suspicion he wouldn’t have to go far. If Chaz was linked to this in any way, he’d pay. Cousin or not.
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