by Laura Scott
“I was coming down First Street, and he ran out from between your house and the one next door.” As Hunter spoke, he gestured with his right hand, tracing the path the suspect had taken.
It was all wrong. The intruder came from the opposite side of the house and went in a different direction. The stranger was telling the truth. And for some unexplained reason, she was glad.
“Hunter, we’ve got the wrong guy.”
His brows lifted in question, and she continued.
“I saw the intruder, just as you got here. He ran out from behind my house and went that way.” She lifted a hand, her index finger extended.
Before Hunter could respond, a Doberman came bounding toward them and skidded to a stop at the open door of the car. The dog put both front paws in the man’s lap and slathered slobbery kisses up one cheek, initiating peals of laughter.
“Now you decide to show up. You almost got me arrested.” Still laughing, he maneuvered to his feet. Not easy with two large paws in his lap and his hands cuffed behind his back. “No more jerky treats for you. At least till tomorrow.”
Hunter stepped behind him and inserted a key into the handcuffs. “Sorry about that. We don’t get many break-ins here. In fact, we don’t get any break-ins. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
The stranger shot him a forgiving smile over one shoulder as the cuffs clicked open. “No problem. You were only doing your job. But I have to admit, this was my first time on this side of the handcuffs.” He clipped a leash onto the dog’s collar before extending his hand. “Blake Townsend, Dallas PD.”
Hunter’s brows shot up again. “You’ve got to be kidding. I was arresting a cop?”
“Former cop, actually. Injured on the job.” He turned toward Allison. “And you, milady, deserve a big thank-you for getting me out of hot water. I at least owe you dinner.”
The smile he gave her reached his eyes, creating fine lines at their corners. His manner was joking, but something told her he was dead serious about dinner. And she was suddenly hit with a case of teenage shyness. She reached to smooth her hair, then dropped her hand. Why bother? The first impression was already made—barefoot and bedhead. Not that it mattered.
She returned his smile with one that she hoped projected confidence. “That won’t be necessary. Your words were thank-you enough.”
He nodded, then looked at Hunter. “If you’re done with me, I’ll get Bozo here back to the boat. Next time you see us, he’ll be on a leash.” He frowned down at the dog who eyed him eagerly, tail nub wagging. One ear stood at attention, straight and sharp. The other made an attempt. But the top two inches flopped forward. The imperfection lent a comic element to his would-be ferociousness. “I think he needs obedience training. He’s usually a good dog, but when he sees a cat, his brain shuts down and he morphs into seventy pounds of pure, dumb instinct.”
He turned and started down the sidewalk, favoring his right leg. Probably the injury he’d mentioned. There was stiffness in his gait, as if he was trying hard to hide what should have been a pronounced limp after spending the last half hour chasing his dog.
A cop. She had him pegged right. Maybe she was getting better at reading people. It was about time.
When she returned her gaze to Hunter, he was grinning at her. “Checking out the newest Cedar Key resident?”
“Not like you’re thinking.” Her cheeks warmed in spite of her flippant response. Hunter was a good friend. They had a lot in common, right down to their determination to avoid serious relationships with the opposite sex. She didn’t know his reasons, but she knew her own. Serious relationships required trust, something in short supply lately, at least on her end.
“Let’s check out your place.” Hunter’s words cut across her thoughts. “We’ve got a breaking and entering to investigate.”
She squared her shoulders and started up the front walk, uneasiness descending on her with every step. Meeting the injured cop had been a nice reprieve. Now she had to face what she would find inside—a broken window, the possibility of items missing from her house.
And the end of the sense of security she had always known there.
* * *
Blake picked up a fifty-pound dumbbell and took a seat. The only gym on Cedar Key, Cedar Cove Fitness was well maintained and had everything he needed. And it was within walking distance of his boat. Of course, everything in Cedar Key was within walking distance of his boat.
After finishing his last set, he took a long swig from his water bottle. Tomorrow’s workout would be legs, a thought that brought a vague sense of dread. Recent months had given new meaning to the phrase No Pain, No Gain. He ran his hand over the five-inch scar that traveled from his lower thigh down to the top of his shin. All through rehab, he had maintained his upper-body workouts, so that part of his physique hadn’t suffered. Unfortunately, he couldn’t say the same for his legs.
He slung his towel over his shoulder and moved toward the door. It was time for Brinks’s late-afternoon walk. The dog had been cooped up alone on the boat for the past two hours and was probably about stir crazy. But he wasn’t going out without a leash. Blake had learned his lesson. Good thing the lady had spoken up last night. Otherwise he might be cooling his heels in the Levy County Jail.
When he stepped onto the dock and approached his boat, a black-and-tan face appeared at one of the windows, and excited barking commenced. Maybe they could take a route that led past the lady’s house. He really wanted to check on her. After last night’s scare, she had looked so vulnerable, clad in her ankle-length robe, feet bare and hair mussed from sleeping. But what had really gotten to him was the fear that lingered in her eyes. It had made his protective instincts kick into overdrive.
He might catch her outside. If not, from what he had seen during his short time in Cedar Key, people were friendly. A knock on the door from a concerned resident likely wouldn’t seem inappropriate or creepy.
As he stepped onto his boat, his gaze drifted to the slips to his right, where a sleek white sailboat was moored. It was there when he arrived yesterday, but had disappeared by the time he returned from lunch. Now it was back, its captain still aboard. She stood in profile, holding a hose. A cone-shaped spray burst from its end, and she worked her way toward the bow with slow side-to-side motions. Once he got Brinks, maybe he would introduce himself.
When he stepped back off his boat, she had finished her spraying and was walking toward the cockpit, hose still in her hand. He moved closer, the raucous calls of seagulls accompanying his steps. Waves lapped against the pilings, and a gentle breeze rustled his clothes.
He waited to speak until she had stepped down onto the cockpit seat. “Good afternoon, sailor.”
She started and spun to face him, a sudden spray of water barely missing his feet. The fear in her eyes instantly turned to relief, and his own widened in surprise. Her blond hair was combed into a thick braid, and a Cedar Key boating hat cast her face in shadow, but he recognized her immediately. She was the same woman who had had the break-in.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I was coming over to introduce myself, but we’ve already met.” Sort of. He still didn’t know her name.
She laid the hose on the deck and wiped her hand on her shorts before extending it. “We’ve met but haven’t been formally introduced. Allison Winchester.”
“Blake Townsend.” Of course, she already knew that. “And this is Brinks.”
“Like the security company?”
“Yeah, except in his case it’s more tongue-in-cheek. He’ll lick you to death.”
She laughed and extended her arm, palm down. After a quick sniff, Brinks slid his nose under her hand and gave a couple of pushes, encouraging a pat on the head. She complied with some much-loved scratching behind the ears.
“Have they figured out who broke into your house?�
��
“No, they haven’t.” She stepped back and began coiling lines and laying them neatly on the deck. “He broke a pane out of one of the library windows, turned the latch and came in that way. Hunter lifted prints, so we’ll see what comes back.”
“Did he take anything?”
“Not that I can tell. I think he got scared off. My car’s in the shop getting a new timing belt, so it wasn’t in its usual spot. He probably thought no one was home. He wasn’t even trying to be quiet.”
Blake leaned against one of the pilings and watched her while she worked. There was something about her that intrigued him. She was definitely pretty. She wore a button-up shirt, its tails tied in a loose knot at her waist, and shorts that stopped a little lower than midthigh. She was lithe and athletic, and even though it was late October, her skin still held a healthy golden glow from summer days spent in the sun.
But it wasn’t just her looks that sparked his interest. She possessed a down-to-earth sweetness that sucked him in. Moving about her boat and securing it for the night, she seemed so capable and sure of herself. But he couldn’t forget the fear he’d seen in her eyes in the early-morning hours. Or how on edge she’d been when he called out his greeting.
“Are you all right?”
Her eyes met his, and something flickered there, a brief flash of vulnerability. Then she resumed her work zipping the cover over the mainsail.
“Sure. Why?”
“Having your house broken into can be scary. If there’s anything I can do, you know where to find me.”
The smile she gave him lit her eyes. “Thanks.” She stepped onto the dock and checked the lines she had tied off previously, then straightened. “That’s it. Till tomorrow anyway.”
“Do you go out every day?” As toned as she was, he wouldn’t be surprised.
“Not every day. Depends on if I’ve got charters.”
She started down the dock, and he fell in beside her, trying not to favor his right leg. Brinks walked ahead of them, straining at the leash, eager for his walk.
“So you’re a charter captain.”
“Yep. Mostly morning or afternoon excursions, with some day trips and the occasional multiday thrown in. If I do an overnight, I bring along a cook and crew mate. It’s a pretty enjoyable way to make a living.”
“That does sound like fun.” He scanned the parking area. “I assume your car’s still in the shop?”
“Yeah, but I usually walk anyway. It’s good exercise.”
“Do you mind if we walk with you? I’m past due for his afternoon jaunt, and he’s so excited, he can hardly stand it.” He nodded down at Brinks. His breathing was strained, restricted by the pressure he was putting on the collar. The crazy dog was half choking himself.
“Sure.” She glanced over at him. “Are you vacationing or here for an extended time?”
“Extended.” Although how extended was anybody’s guess.
“You said you’re a cop.”
They turned onto Dock Street, where an eclectic array of wooden buildings lined the water’s edge. Ahead, a series of bright blue stairs and landings led to Steamers Bar and Grill.
“I was a cop. Not anymore.”
“Do you think you’ll go back to it once your leg heals?”
So she had noticed. Either she was really observant, or he wasn’t as good at hiding the limp as he had thought. The total knee replacement was a success. The work on the thigh was another story. Reconstructing mincemeat was a bit more challenging.
He shook his head. “Too much permanent damage. I’ve got to be able to run as fast as the bad guys. This has slowed me down. I took seven hits.”
She flinched and offered him a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry to hear that. So what happened? Did you get caught in a shoot-out?”
“Something like that. I was working undercover. A drug buy went bad.”
Of course, there was more to it than that. But he wasn’t going to talk about it. Because if he didn’t talk about it, he would eventually quit thinking about it. Then maybe the nightmares would stop.
“They offered me a desk job, but I’m not a sit-at-a-desk kind of guy.”
She studied him. “I can see that. You seem the type that goes for the action. So what do you do, now that you’re not a cop anymore?”
“I’m still figuring that out. I went for my degree in criminal justice right after high school, and I’ve been a cop ever since. Thought I’d die a cop.” Almost did.
“So you’re in transition.”
“You could say that.”
“That’s okay, as long as you don’t stay there forever.”
She was right. And he wouldn’t. He had always been too driven to sit idle for long. Besides, eventually the insurance money would run out. But long before then, he’d have his head back on straight and be ready to resume the life he had left in Dallas. With a few adjustments.
They rounded the corner, and Allison’s eyes dipped to Brinks. “How often do you have to walk him?”
“Usually four times—when we get up, lunchtime, late afternoon and right before bed. Except this morning. For some reason, he decided at three thirty that he had to go out. Wouldn’t leave me alone. We went up on deck, and before I could get his leash on him, he saw the cat and bolted.”
“Brinks needs to work on his timing. A minute earlier, and you might have been in time to catch the bad guy.”
When they reached her driveway, she turned to face him. “Thanks for walking with me. I enjoyed your company.”
She was smiling, but something had changed. Her posture had stiffened, and her blue eyes had darkened with worry.
He looked past her to the colorful Victorian surrounded by a manicured yard. A polished oak door with stained-glass panels complemented the warm exterior. But inside, the house was cold and empty and silent. And she was walking in alone.
“Would you like me to go in with you? You know, check the windows and doors?”
She hesitated while indecision flashed across her features. Finally, she squared her shoulders and mustered a half smile. “That’s all right. I don’t think he’ll be back.”
“You sure? I don’t mind.” He drew his brows together as another thought crossed his mind. “The window’s been fixed, right?”
“Terrance did it this morning.”
“Terrance?”
“The kid at the marina. Stays on the Bayliner. He does odd jobs for people around town. You’ve probably met him.”
Yeah, he had. He was quiet and tattooed and walked around with a bit of a chip on his shoulder. Blake didn’t know his past, but he had run up against his kind often enough to recognize what was behind that tough-guy facade—a lost kid, trying to prove he could make it without anybody’s help.
Blake watched Allison let herself into the house, then continued down the road. He hoped to see more of her. She was a fellow boater. Someone who loved the water as much as he did. And she was just an all-around nice person. He wasn’t looking for a romantic relationship, but if something developed, he wouldn’t be opposed. As long as it stayed casual.
Keep It Casual—that had been his lifelong motto. Except once. And he was still kicking himself.
Eighteen months ago, both his personal and professional lives took a nosedive. No, they did more than take a nosedive. They crashed and burned. And he’d been trying ever since to regain his equilibrium.
And all the while, Cedar Key beckoned. He had spent a week there every summer for five straight years. That was when he was a kid, and they were still a complete family—him, his mom, his dad and his little sister. Life was perfect then. His police detective dad was good at shielding them from the ugliness he saw every day.
Of all the memories he had of his father, vacations in Cedar Key were some of the best. So last wee
k, he closed up his apartment in Dallas, loaded Brinks into his Explorer, hooked up the boat and made the trip to Galveston. While a friend drove the truck and trailer back home, he headed for Florida. Now he was in paradise, surrounded by the rolling sea, quiet sunsets, quaint shops and friendly people. Hopefully the laid-back atmosphere of Cedar Key would offer the peace and direction that had been missing from his life.
Because if he didn’t find it here...well, he just didn’t know where else to look.
Copyright © 2015 by Carol J. Post
ISBN-13: 9781460345139
Under the Lawman’s Protection
Copyright © 2015 by Laura Iding
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.
www.Harlequin.com