Taming Deputy Harlow

by Jennifer Morey

  Putting one binder aside, Jamie stood up to retrieve the next from a desk, bringing it back to the table but not sitting again. At the time of the murder the hotel had no computers. All the records were stored in binders. As luck would have it, the hotel hadn’t purged any. The manager told them the records had been all but forgotten until they’d shown up.

  He noticed Reese having a hard time concentrating again, as she read the list of entries in one of the binders and then lifted her head to stare off. Did her mind wander back to her conversation with Kadin? Had the things they’d said as father and daughter changed the way she thought of him? Or did her distraction come from Jamie? He’d avoided thinking too much about last night. She’d initiated the lovemaking and hadn’t withdrawn afterward, but was she now? The closer they grew together, the more she might feel caught. While he secretly cheered that she hadn’t been able to resist him, had come to him by choice and met him with equal fervor that had all the indications of budding love, he had to remain cautious. Reese’s fiercely guarded independence would have its say eventually. There would come a time when she would no longer be able to deny what this was and where it would lead if they continued. When that occurred, she’d either decide to run from it, or his efforts would come to fruition.

  “You and Kadin seemed to have a nice talk,” he said.

  Jarred from thought, she turned to him. “Yeah.” She looked down at the binder.

  “Are you okay with that?”

  “Of course.” Then she seemed to think again. “I think so.” She put her fingers to her upper chest. “I’ve got this feeling, not bad, but I actually imagined more than once what it would be like to work with him in Wyoming.”

  “Sounds nothing but good to me.” He didn’t think she told him all she thought.

  She looked up at him again, eyes guarded. “It gives me anxiety.”

  “Did last night give you anxiety?”

  Her eyes lowered. “Not last night.”

  But today she’d had a different reaction. He didn’t say he’d back off or promise to let her take the initiative in starting when the next opportunity came to make love. If the next time was anywhere close to as powerful as last night, it would work in his favor. He didn’t press her for more on how she felt about them as a couple. No, with her, a man had to hold fast to his strategy and never falter in the face of possible failure.

  He retrieved another guest book. “Here’s another one dated the month of Ella’s murder.”

  Abandoning her binder, she stood and moved closer to Jamie at the round table.

  He flipped through to the end. “Looks like it spans almost four weeks. Last few pages are blank. Somebody must have tried to get organized and keep books by month.”

  Reese leaned over the table and slid the pen and paper toward herself. “I’ll add the names to our list.”

  A few minutes later, she folded the paper and handed it to Jamie, facing him fully. He folded it some more and tucked it into his back pocket. He smiled ever so slightly when their fingers touched in the transfer, seeing how she responded with a similar one. He loved her involuntary reactions.

  Now, in the quiet hotel office, with a calm ebb and flow of guests checking in or crossing the lobby in the distant background, she continued to stare at him.

  “Were you always such a nice guy?” she asked.

  As always with Reese, her questions seemed to tumble out without much thought. Curiosity made her ask, but he could see by her suddenly skittish gaze that she might wish she hadn’t. Getting to know him well distressed her, as though she was headed for a dastardly serious relationship. Although at times she appeared stiff and standoffish, he saw through that exterior wall to the softer part of her, the part he doubted she even knew very well.

  She should get to know her deepest self better. She was a pretty amazing woman, with all of that untapped capacity for love.

  On to her question... He wasn’t sure how to answer. He’d never been this open to embarking on a long-term commitment with any woman. And his previous profession made him a hard man. And then there was the potential to scare her off. Remember the strategy...

  “No,” he finally said. “I used to be a lot like you.”

  She moved her head back in surprise. “You don’t think I’m nice?”

  “Nice in this context is between a man and a woman who are extremely attracted to each other,” he said. “You don’t welcome men into your heart.” He paused for emphasis. “You don’t want to, anyway.” He thought she did welcome him, but her mind kept pushing him away. “I think that’s what you mean when you ask if I was always this nice. Am I wrong?”

  Her eyes lowered and she rested her hand on the back of a chair. Then she looked into his eyes, head angled, that sultry heat sending messages she probably didn’t realize.

  “No.” She straightened her head. “You didn’t pursue women?”

  “Only the ones who didn’t mind casual. I was always gone, and overseas. I had no plans to settle down.”

  “And now you do.”

  He studied her face to see if she dreaded his answer. He couldn’t tell. “Yes.”

  Now she studied him, as though uncertain how she felt about that. “You never did tell me why you quit that security company.”

  Did she ask to change the subject or was she checking to see if he was, indeed, a viable partner for her? He didn’t really want to talk about this, but he suspected he wasn’t going to get around telling her this time. And if she was genuinely curious, then hiding it from her might not be in his best interest. If he wanted a real relationship with her, he had to be honest.

  “The man who ran Aesir International was a mercenary. I didn’t check him out the way I should have. He sent me and my team on some questionable assignments. I saw his men do unethical things and told him I quit. He didn’t like that very much. Apparently, he saw something in me he thought would be easy to mold into whatever he wanted, a gun for hire. Thug. In order to force me to keep working for him—and do the things he ordered—he...”

  Admitting the next part didn’t come easy. “He made it look like I committed some crimes.”

  “What crimes?”

  Would he lose her if he told her? Either way, he had to be truthful.

  “He presented me with evidence he manufactured to prove I committed...random murders in Iraq.”

  Reese all but blanched. He’d shocked her. She hadn’t expected a story this dark. He was a security officer for her father who pursued her romantically. She had no concept of the man he had once been, or the man Stankovich had turned him into.

  He went on regardless. She had to hear it all.

  “It was a real Blackwater news story. Stankovich even produced a witness. What he had on me made me look like a mercenary, a dirty one. Discount soldier in constant conflict. Killer of the innocent.” All the bitterness he’d felt back then returned now. “He threatened to turn all of it over to the US government if I left.”

  “A witness claimed he saw you kill people in Iraq?”

  “Another mercenary, one Stankovich handpicked.”

  “Stankovich? He didn’t handpick you?”

  “Valdemar Stankovich. Yes, I’m sure he thought he did handpick me. I left the Army honorably, but he must have seen it as rebellion.” In some senses, maybe he had rebelled, but not against his country, not against humanity. Just rules.

  “He sounds like a gangster.”

  He smiled. “He might as well have added that to his sleazy résumé.”

  “How did you clear your name?”

  “I had to work for him for a while. He forced me to work with a human trafficker based out of Alaska. I did my best to fake the job while I hacked the trafficker and Stankovich’s computers. I broke into their houses. I helped another one of DAI’s detectives take down the traffi
cker and his organization. I destroyed everything Stankovich falsified against me. Without a so-called witness, he couldn’t do anything to stop me from leaving.”

  “Without a witness? What happened to him?”

  He hesitated. How would she react to what he’d done? “I killed him.”

  “You.” Her mouth dropped open.

  “I had no choice. The man was a ruthless killer. I was blamed for crimes he committed. He got off on raping and killing women. He killed children, too, if they got in the way.”

  “So you took it upon yourself to execute him?”

  “It didn’t exactly go that way. I demanded all of the records he had that implicated me. He had sophisticated fingerprint falsification and videos. All things that might be disproved with the right investigation, but I wasn’t about to take any chances. He refused to hand over what he had and pulled a gun on me. I was ready for him and shot him first. Wasn’t my plan but I was prepared to do what I had to do to preserve my reputation and get away from a bad situation.” He may have sounded a little flippant telling her, but the whole ordeal hadn’t been easy and had caused him to grow in ways he would have never anticipated had he not experienced it. “Killing him made me realize the Army would have been better for me and I should have stuck with it. It made me realize I had a problem sticking with anything long-term.” In particular, women, but he didn’t say that out loud. He didn’t need to. He saw Reese ascertain his meaning.

  She had closed her mouth and now regarded him without expression. He couldn’t tell what she thought.

  “I’m not a mercenary,” he said just in case she still thought of him that way. “I never was.”

  “Leaving the military lends you something of a rebel character,” she said. “You may not be the kind of man who framed you, or who committed all the crimes, but you like adrenaline rushes. I’d have never thought that about you if you hadn’t told me this story.”

  “I am not that kind of man. A rebel. And I used to like rushes, but not anymore. Excitement and adventure can come from different sources. It doesn’t have to be controversial or on the edge. I can apply my knowledge and expertise much more productively than I have in the past. I learned that lesson working for Stankovich.”

  She seemed to be contemplating everything. He sensed her icing up again, an attempt to avoid agreeing that what he’d said was spot-on and she liked it. He suspected he intrigued her, fascinated her, attracted her, and she was still at odds as to what to do. He’d settle for that. Her desire kept her from shutting him out. He wouldn’t push her.

  “Let’s get out of here.” He put his hand on her lower back and guided her out of the office. The hotel lobby wasn’t as large as some big chain hotels, but offered a seating area and plenty of room for people traffic.

  The clerk saw them from her post behind the reception counter. “All set?”

  “Ye—”

  Reese’s affirmative reply was cut short by an abrupt explosion. Gunfire. Jamie dove for her, taking her down to the floor as a rain of bullets sprayed the wall and the front of the counter. Glass from the front windows shattered and people screamed from the hotel restaurant off the lobby. He crushed Reese in her deputy uniform and felt her gear poke him. The clerk had taken refuge behind the counter. Jamie searched the lobby and the through the broken windows and saw no gunman.

  Taking out his gun as he moved off Reese, he noticed her take out her own gun. “I’ll cover you.” He fired in the direction of the gunshots and Reese remaining crouched as she hurried to the front counter. Then she rose up over the top just enough to fire as he had, covering him.

  The clerk, who was taking deep breaths, cowered in the corner. From the restaurant, pandemonium had broken loose as people rushed to escape through the kitchen. Luckily there had been no one sitting in the two or three seating areas in the lobby.

  “Where is he?” Jamie whispered harshly.

  “Right in front. Behind the brick next to the front entrance.” She reloaded her weapon. “We have to draw him out.”

  “Cover me again.” Before she could argue, he moved to the edge of the counter. Reese began firing and he ran for one of two support pillars trimmed in an ornate pattern and painted white. Peering around the far side, he ducked back when he saw the shooter stick his gun out from behind the brick. Paint and cement splintered on the side where his head had just been.

  Reese fired again and forced the shooter back. Jamie ran for the corner wall at the entrance. Bullets tore through the material of a chair and broke a lamp on a table next to it as Jamie ran past them. He took cover against the wall leading to the restaurant and adjacent to the front entry. He had a clear sight of the shooter, dressed all in black with a masked hat. He fired just as the shooter spotted him and ran.

  Reese fired, breaking more windows as the man ran away.

  Jamie chased him, pushing through the front doors and running down the sidewalk. The gunman shoved a man out of his way. The man fell onto his hip with a cry. Jamie held his gun upright as he jumped over the fallen man.

  The gunman glanced back at a full run and then went behind a car to shoot. Jamie crouched in front of a truck and then moved out to fire back. As a bullet struck the car, the gunman lowered.

  He stayed crouched and ran on the street side of parked cars. When a line of cars passed, he ran between them, causing drivers to squeal to a stop. Jamie had no clear shot.

  The gunman ran across the street to a used bookstore. As Jamie followed, he shot out the door window. Having anticipated he’d try something like that, Jamie kept himself behind a parked car.

  He ran into the bookstore. The cashier bent low behind the counter. A tiny thing with dark-rimmed glasses and hair up in a messy bun, she pointed to the back rows of bookshelves.

  Jamie moved along the side of the store, aiming down the aisles of books. At the third one down, the gunman appeared from the far aisle and fired. Jamie flattened his back against the wood shelving, hearing books take bullets and come crashing to the floor.

  He reloaded.

  The gunman ran to the rear of the store.

  Jamie ran to the center aisle and shot the man’s lower leg. He yelped with the hit and went down, rolling to get onto his rear and no doubt take another shot at him.

  Jamie knocked his gun arm as he shot and blocked a kick from the man’s uninjured leg. He leaned over and punched first the man’s face and then his sternum. With the gunman momentarily subdued, he took hold of his gun hand and slammed it against an adjacent shelf, blocking the man’s attempts to grab Jamie’s throat with his other arm. When the gunman didn’t let go of his gun, Jamie pressed his pistol to the gunman’s forehead.

  The man went still, blue eyes staring at him through the mask.

  Jamie pulled the gun back to yank off the hat and toss it aside.

  The gunman was probably around thirty, had a scar on his upper left forehead and gritted big white teeth. Though his blue eyes were bright in color, they were empty of feeling.

  “Who are you?” Jamie demanded.

  “You shouldn’t have done that.” The gunman knocked the pistol away from his forehead and head-butted Jamie hard enough to make him jerk back.

  Jamie kicked the man’s gun arm, sending the gun falling as he struck the man’s temple with his pistol.

  Picking up the other pistol, Jamie stood with both weapons aimed. “Get up.”

  Showing no fear, only frustration over losing control of the fight, the gunman did as asked. Sirens sounded outside.

  “I suggest you start talking.”

  “I’ll take my chances with a lawyer.”

  “Who do you work for?” Jamie asked.

  The door burst open and Reese entered with her gun raised. The sheriff and another deputy followed.

  While Jamie held the man immobile at gunpoint, Reese took t
he man’s hands and cuffed him, reading him his rights.

  * * *

  The following afternoon, Reese stood with Jamie at her desk. Christopher Bishop still hadn’t talked, but he had a criminal record that included numerous assault charges, an attempted murder and theft. He’d been in and out of jail since he was fifteen.

  “Why don’t they lock people like this up and throw away the key?” Reese asked, the report in her hands. She stood beside Jamie behind her desk. Deputy Miller worked at his desk, facing the wall across from the conference room entrance. He had a bag of cheese-flavored crunchy snacks on top of a pile of files. He stuck his hand inside the bag before he finished chewing the last mouthful, his eyes on the computer screen and his other hand on the mouse.

  Reese’s desk was in the middle of the room, the break room behind her. The third desk sat empty across from the entrance to the sheriff’s office. The sheriff must have gone for a late lunch.

  “Do you think he’s involved in Ella’s murder somehow?” Jamie asked, and then added quickly, “I know he couldn’t have done it, but the killer-for-hire angle bothers me.”

  “Why?”

  He hesitated as though busy analyzing. “It’s too professional. If Ella’s murderer is still alive, why hire someone to kill those getting too close to finding him? Sure, he is a lot older, but why not do the job himself? Beside, we have to assume he has no money since he never found it. How could he afford a professional?”

  “You think Bishop is a professional?”

  He ran his hand over his hair in agitation. “I don’t know.”

  Jamie had a good point. If Bishop wasn’t a gun for hire in relation to Ella’s murder, then why was he trying to kill them?

  “He started to come after us when we found the money.” She dropped the report.

  “Yeah. There’s missing pieces.”