Angels Landing

by Rochelle Alers

  “Go inside, Kara, and don’t forget to lock the door.”

  She leaned close enough for his moist breath to feather over her mouth. “I’d like to reciprocate and invite you and Miss Corrine to dinner whenever you have a day off.”

  “Are you catering it?”

  Kara pulled back. “No. I’m going to cook.”

  “You can cook?” he teased.

  “You can go home now.”

  Cradling her face, Jeff brushed a kiss over her parted lips. “Go inside and lock the door.”

  Easing back she affected a snappy salute. “Yes, captain!”

  Jeff’s hand cupped her hip, holding her captive. “You’re pushing it.”

  Kara rested her hand over his. “Good night, Jeff.”

  Tightening his hold, he cupped the back of her head and slanted his mouth over hers, stealing her breath away. It ended as quickly as it’d begun. “Good night, Kara.”

  With her mouth burning, knees shaking, and her heated blood racing through her body, Kara managed to make her way to the door before she begged Jeff to make love to her. She didn’t know what it was about him that elicited a desperate need to lie with him.

  She opened, closed, and locked the door like an automaton. Jeff had come at the wrong time to check on her, or she’d picked the wrong time to sit outside. Now she would go to bed aroused, remembering Jeff’s confession of his own arousal.

  Crossing her legs at the knees, she waited for her traitorous body to return to normal. Kara knew she and Jeff had to stop—stop the sexual teasing before they embarked on something or a situation that could prove disastrous, at least for her. She’d never been able to engage in a physical relationship and remain emotionally detached. She had never learned to love with her head and not her heart.

  Maybe, she thought, it was time she learned.

  Chapter Ten

  Jeff sat opposite Spencer White, the mayor of Sanctuary Cove, acknowledging him with an imperceptible nod. He, not Spencer, would chair the session. When Spencer set up the meeting with the mayors of Angels Landing and Haven Creek, the two men expressed a reluctance to attend because they had always felt like the Cove’s stepchildren. Whenever tourists came to Cavanaugh Island, it was the Cove that took in the lion’s share of tourist revenue. Lacing his fingers together on the conference table, Jeff curbed the urge to fist his hands and reveal his frustration. “Don’t you think your constituents would like to hear what I propose before you preclude to speak for them?” he asked Harlan Patton.

  Harlan’s hazel eyes narrowed as he leaned forward. “I read Spencer’s memo, and I speak for my constituents.”

  Jeff smiled at the man who was a masculine version of Kara. “No, you don’t. You speak for yourself, Harlan.”

  “It’s Mayor Patton to you, Sheriff Hamilton.”

  Spencer White, an attorney with movie star looks, brought his palm down on the table. “Enough, Harlan! We’re here not to attack one another, but to come together for the good of the island. Jeff didn’t spend three days in Columbia with more than two hundred other law enforcement officers for you to blow him off.”

  Haven Creek’s mayor, Douglas Rosen, nodded. “Spencer’s right. I want to hear more about the governor’s small-town crime prevention initiative.”

  Jeff nodded to the portly man with a thinning pate. Douglas, a direct descendant of Thomas Cavanaugh, the pirate that had given the island its name, was a retired FBI forensic analyst. “Thank you, Doug.” He directed his attention to Harlan again. “Perhaps, it’s because you’re the only mayor on Cavanaugh Island lacking law enforcement experience that you’re opposed to installing security cameras in Angels Landing. You’ve seen the cameras in the Cove’s downtown area and know they’re not that conspicuous. They would be even less conspicuous in the Landing because it’s more densely forested. But just knowing they’re there should be enough to deter burglaries.”

  “Where would you put the cameras?” Harlan asked.

  “Along all the roads, both public and private.”

  “Which means you’ll see everyone coming and going.”

  Jeff leaned back in his chair. “Do you see that as a problem, Harlan?”

  “Do you think folks want Big Brother spying on them?”

  “Only if they have something to hide,” Jeff countered. “Not only would my deputies spend less time driving around on patrol, but we would also save on fuel.”

  “I’m in agreement with Jeff,” Douglas said. “Fuel costs for our official vehicles this past year were outrageous.”

  Spencer nodded in agreement. “It’s the same in the Cove.”

  Picking up a pencil, Jeff drew interlocking circles on a pad. “That’s because the Creek and the Cove have to cover fire calls for the Landing because they still don’t have a fire department. Perhaps, Harlan, it’s time the residents of Angels Landing share in the cost of the other two towns responding to fires and medical emergencies.”

  A rush of color suffused Harlan’s face. “Two years ago Spencer and Doug agreed, in a show of good faith, to have their volunteer fire departments cover the Landing because it would be cost-effective rather than erecting a building and having to buy a pumper truck.”

  Jeff knew it was time to proverbially cut Harlan off at the knees. “That agreement is due to expire before the end of the year, and I suggest you revise your projected budget to include a line for fire prevention, safety, and emergency services.”

  Harlan’s gaze shifted from Jeff to Spencer and Douglas, then back to Jeff. “Are you really going to leave the residents of the Landing without access to a fire department?”

  Crossing his arms over his chest, Jeff slowly shook his head. “No, Harlan. I don’t have the authority to make that determination. But you can’t have it both ways. Last year you saved money by not having to pay the salary and benefits of a full-time sheriff while you managed not to raise property taxes because you don’t have a fire department. The security cameras and the command center won’t cost us anything. Fortunately, Spencer had the wherewithal to apply for a grant to offset the expense of installing and maintaining it.”

  Harlan’s jaw tightened. “I don’t want our people spied on.”

  The frustration Jeff felt whenever he met with the mayor of Angels Landing escalated. “What the hell do you have to hide, Patton! You keep talking about ‘our people’ when I suspect it’s you. I shouldn’t have to remind you there’s crime on Cavanaugh Island. And statistics show there are more domestic situations, vehicle infractions, and 911 calls from Angels Landing than the Cove and Creek combined. My part-time deputies are hardly part-time when they have to work twelve-hour shifts three days a week.”

  Doug rested a hand on Harlan’s shoulder. “Pick your battles, Patton. When your people hear that cameras are a deterrent to crime in the Cove and the Creek and that Spencer and I decided not to renew the fire department agreement, they’re going to vote you out of office. And I shouldn’t have to remind you that the Landing has the highest property taxes on the island because you don’t want a business district.”

  Harlan shook off the hand. “Is that all you have? Threats and intimidation?”

  Jeff blew out a breath. “You can’t continue to hide behind the privacy pretext. Excuse me, gentlemen, but I’m still on duty.” He rose in one fluid motion, his lethal gaze pinning Kara’s cousin to his seat. “I’ll see you around, Patton.”

  “I guess you will whenever you come sniffing around Kara. You think I don’t know about your so-called night runs when you supposedly are checking up on her. How is she, Jeff? Is the little schemer a screamer or—” The words were snatched from Harlan’s open mouth when Jeff reached across the table and slapped him with an open hand.

  In a movement too quick for the eye to follow, Jeff grabbed the front of Harlan’s shirt, pulling him half on and half off the table. “If I ever hear something like that come out of that filthy mouth again, I will hit you again. And next time, it won’t be a bitch-slap.” He released Harlan a
s if he were throwing away a soiled garment.

  “You saw that!” Harlan gasped, pressing his hand to the left side of his face. “I want him arrested for assault.”

  Spencer stood up, Douglas rising with him. “I didn’t see anything. Did you, Doug?”

  The forensic analyst shook his head. “Sorry, Harlan, but you must be hallucinating.” The three men burst into laughter when Harlan raced out of the office. Doug wiped the tears from his eyes. “Jeff, Spencer, I’d love to stay and talk, but I have to meet my brother who’s been bitchin’ and moanin’ about losing his only female architect because he’s too cheap to pay her what she’s worth. It would serve him right if she opened her own office next door and gave him some serious competition.”

  “I’m not going to touch that,” Jeff remarked.

  Doug inclined his head. “Mayor, sheriff. It’s always a pleasure.” He shook hands with Spencer and Jeff, then left the room.

  Walking over to the door, Spencer closed it, turning to face Jeff. “I know there’s always been bad blood between you two. Just don’t be surprised if Harlan goes to the Charleston PD to file an assault charge. And if I’m called as a witness, I’ll have to tell the truth. I can’t afford to risk jeopardizing my license to practice if I’m charged with perjury.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Spencer. I don’t think Harlan’s going to risk his so-called playboy reputation when he admits I slapped him like he was a girl.”

  “You’re probably right. Harlan’s all about image. But does he know something I don’t about you and Taylor’s daughter?”

  Jeff told the mayor about his cousin’s phone call following the reading of Taylor’s will. “Just say the Pattons were less than hospitable in welcoming their new cousin.”

  “They’ve always been a strange lot, Jeff. Collectively they have more money than any family on the island, but what I don’t understand is their competing with one another.”

  “Crabs in a barrel, Spencer. That’s the only way to describe them.” Picking up his baseball cap, Jeff put it on. “When can I expect to see my new office furniture?”

  “I’ll have my secretary call the vendor, then get back to you. Now that we have the grant, you and men will be expected to wear uniforms.”

  Jeff wanted to remind Spencer that he’d worn a uniform for more than half his life. Getting his deputies to wear one when on duty was another matter. He left the conference room, nodding and smiling at the mayor’s administrative assistant. He knew slapping Harlan went against his training, but if he’d hit the potty-mouthed man the way he truly wanted, then Harlan would’ve wound up with either a broken jaw or, worse, a broken neck.

  He and Harlan had never gotten along. As a schoolboy Harlan had put the b in bully. Jeff had permitted Harlan to intimidate him because of his grandmother’s warning that intelligent people used their brains instead of their fists to settle an argument. It only stopped once they’d entered high school. Jeff had joined the football team, and at six four and weighing close to two hundred pounds, he’d become a human wrecking machine, known for setting a school record by sacking opposing teams’ quarterbacks—a record that still stood. Not only was he strong, but he was also very fast.

  Instead of taking the tunnel connecting the town hall with the court and the station house, he walked out into the bright sunlight. He needed to get outdoors and clear his head. Reaching for his cell, he hit speed dial. “Winnie, Jeff. I just left Mayor White’s office. I’m going down to the Muffin Corner. Do you want me to bring something back for you?… Today, Winnie,” he told his clerk when she changed her mind for the third time.

  “Can you stop at the supermarket deli and bring me back a tuna salad on a bed of lettuce. Please ask them if it’s fresh. If not, then I’ll take chicken salad on a bed of lettuce. And make certain they give you crackers and a pickle.”

  Jeff exhaled an audible sigh. “Aren’t you going to give me a third choice, Winnie?”

  “You must be feeling good today.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Because you’re trying to be a comedian. And I must say not a very good one.”

  He headed in the direction of Main Street. “I’ll see you later.”

  Jeff knew his hitting Harlan had everything to do with Kara and not because he still harbored a grudge against a man who’d made his boyhood a living hell. Although each town had its own elementary-middle school, half the students from the Landing were bused to the Creek and the other half to the Cove when their school burned to the ground from an electrical fire. It’d taken two years for it to be rebuilt. The construction had been delayed for almost a year when the school board had to decide on whether it should be a brick or wooden structure. In the end it was stucco.

  It’d been the worst two years of his life, but it taught Jeff something about himself he hadn’t known he had: extraordinary self-control. At least he had until Harlan opened his mouth to mention Kara. Harlan hadn’t known Jeff to retaliate with a physical attack. He could rationalize and tell himself that it was payback for past bullying, but he would be lying to himself.

  It had everything to do with Kara and his growing feelings for her. It’d been so easy for him to use David’s warning as an excuse to see her. But how long would he be able to continue in that vein before she saw through the ruse. The more he saw Kara, the more he wanted to be with her. She turned him on, made him want to make love to her, and he couldn’t remember when he’d met a woman whose intense appeal triggered a lust he found impossible to ignore. She was easy to talk to, made him laugh because there were times when he took himself and life much too seriously. Kara understood his dedication to his job as island sheriff and the sacrifices he’d made to care for his grandmother.

  Jeff was aware that resigning his commission and returning to Sanctuary Cove had changed him. In the past his grandmother had taken care of him, but now it was his turn to take care of her. At that time the military had become his extended family, the men under his command his brothers in arms, and his dedication to his country and corps unwavering.

  Then there were his past relationships; they were never smooth or easy. The women complained they would’ve preferred competing with another woman for love and affection, not his career. He was also aware that his past relationships hadn’t worked out because he feared loving and losing.

  Resigning his commission and moving back to the Cove was one of the easiest decisions he’d ever made in his life. It’d become a case of no contest. His grandmother’s heart attack had become a reality check that he could lose her like he’d lost his mother, and he intended to hold onto Corrine Hamilton for as long as he could.

  A smile tilted the corners of his mouth when he thought of Kara. There was something about her that had slipped under his emotional radar where he felt the need to protect her, too. Harlan’s outburst and his distasteful reference as to her moral character spoke volumes, and if the other Pattons felt the same as Harlan, then Kara would fare no better than her father. They’d banded together for a common cause: greed.

  “Good afternoon, Jeff.”

  He waved to the elderly man standing in the doorway to the liquor store. “Good afternoon, Mr. Washington. How’s the family?” he asked slowing his stride.

  “Everybody’s good. Praise the Lord. I want to tell you that those folks who want to buy us out are back. One of them offered my brother more money than he’d ever made in his life to sell his house.”

  Jeff stared at the man who’d served with valor during World War II. “What did he tell them?”

  “Something I can’t repeat in public. But it wasn’t nice. Why should he sell his house and land to a stranger when he can save it for his grandchildren? His grandbaby girl just got married, and she and her new husband are trying to buy a house, but the bank wants so much money down. Harry told them they could move in with him.”

  “Are they going to take him up on his offer?”

  “Yup.”

  Jeff smiled. “Good for the
m. We need more young folks living here. Meanwhile, tell your brother stay strong. And you stay well, Mr. Washington.”

  “You, too.”

  Jeff hadn’t realized how much he’d missed Cavanaugh Island until he’d returned—this time to stay. He still did police work but at a much slower, more laid-back pace. The crime on the island was something he could control, and if it reached the courts, then a stern warning from the judge, a fine, or a couple of nights in jail usually was a deterrent for the defendant not to repeat the offense.

  Most cities in the country had surveillance cameras to protect their citizens and to make police work easier. Living on the island had led many of the residents to believe they were immune to a lot of the big-city social ills, but Jeff knew otherwise. Unlike his predecessor he’d begun the practice of foot patrols to reacquaint himself with the townspeople and gain their trust. He’d taken an oath to protect and serve, and he wanted everyone who lived on the island to know that he was there solely for that purpose.

  What he or Spencer hadn’t revealed to the mayors of Angels Landing and Haven Creek was an increase in the number of residents that were approached with offers for them to sell their land. Installing the security cameras would monitor the comings and goings of those who were not permanent island residents. Everyone was aware that those in Angels Landing wanted to sell out while Haven Creek was split evenly.

  Sanctuary Cove had become the only holdout. Several had called to say they believed they were being threatened, while others had felt intimidated. Jeff couldn’t stop the developers from coming to the island or even canvassing potential clients, but what he wouldn’t tolerate was their scare tactics to force residents to sell their property.

  He turned off Main Street and onto Moss Alley, waving to Deborah as she adjusted the bookstore’s window blinds. Several doors down from the Parlor he saw workmen inside a vacant storefront. A year ago there had been enough vacant stores in the downtown business district to count on both hands. Now there were less than six. It was apparent the Cove was recovering from the downturn in the economy.