She cleared her throat. “I was sent here to … uh, keep an eye on you.”
“Why?”
“In case you remembered anything else, or … dang it, I don’t really know the actual reason. I was just told to babysit you.” She flushed. With her fair skin, she didn’t turn red. Nope, she was a bright pink. “Could I come inside? It’s hot out here.”
“Right.” He stepped back, bringing the door with him.
She slipped in quickly, and he let the door swing shut. After a few seconds of awkward silence, she shuffled a few feet to the right, away from him and closer to his dining room. The extra space gave him a little breathing room. Without realizing it, she was helping him get used to her presence.
Xavier didn’t like encounters with someone who had seen he was missing a leg. If they had they could spot the scars from the shrapnel wounds that peppered his body—most of which were covered by his clothing and the tattoos—and if they got closer still, they could see the emotional toll his injuries had brought on him.
“They want you to babysit me?”
“That’s what I said.”
“And you’re not really sure why?”
“I believe I said that, too.”
He grinned. “No need to get defensive, Deputy. I don’t mind.”
She went slack. “You don’t?”
“Nope.” Turning, he wandered into the kitchen. “Need a cold drink?”
The squeak of rubber on the hardwood floor was the only indication that she had followed. “Water will be fine.”
Pulling a glass from the door-less cupboard, he pried open the fridge door. “You sure you only want water? I have kombucha, orange, cherry, or grape juice, maybe lemonade?”
“What’s kombucha?”
“Fermented tea. It’s really good and tastes like soda.”
“What, no beer? I thought all Aussies loved their beer.”
He pulled out the glass pitcher of kombucha and poured her a shot’s worth of the drink. “I gave up alcohol after I got out of the hospital. I didn’t want it to muck up my meds or my head.” He held out the glass. “Try it.”
She eyed it like he was trying to drug her. He smirked. These Yanks and their aversion to non-American food and drink.
“It won’t kill you. Trust me.”
Her gaze flicked up to his face, and an irritated glint flashed through her eyes. “Considering how we encountered each other yesterday, that isn’t even remotely amusing.”
“And here I was lead to believe all law enforcement were an easily amused lot.”
Taking the glass with a grunt, she downed the liquid in one gulp, then half-choked, half-coughed when the fizz hit her throat. She swallowed and handed back the glass. “Oh, I wasn’t expecting that.”
“It’s fizzy. Did you like it?”
“Sure, why not?”
Filling up the glass, he passed it along to her and then poured himself a drink. He’d have to check his next batch of brew to see if it was ready. Placing the pitcher back in the fridge, he was at a loss about what to do next with the deputy.
“Where’s your sister and brother?” she asked between sips of kombucha.
Come to think of it, the house was quiet. “Ariel went to the store to get groceries”—he glanced at the clock and winced at the time—“two hours ago. I’m not sure where Zac went.”
“Where’d she go shopping, Iowa City?”
“With Ariel, who knows?”
More awkward silence fell between them. He tried to enjoy his drink, but her pointed stare was unnerving him. He tried to come up with a topic of conversation, but those topics were limited because he didn’t know her that well. Maybe he could pick her brain about the investigation?
“Why did you not want people to know your siblings are here?” She blurted the question and then hid behind her glass.
That was not a topic he dared to approach. It was a reminder of his loss of control in the hospital, and it was a discussion that was not meant for her ears. She was too close to the exact people he’d been apprehensive about approaching. It didn’t help matters that he’d made a huge ruckus over Ariel and Zac being at the hospital when he woke up. Not only had Jolie witnessed his outburst, so had a nurse and the doctor. Someone was bound to get nosy. And they didn’t have a right to his private life—no matter the circumstances that led him into being under police scrutiny.
Jutting out his jaw, he swirled the kombucha, making it fizz.
“No answer? Wow, you acted like you had plenty you wanted to throw at me last night when you found out I was the one who called Ariel.”
“I did, and I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to talk to anyone.”
“So, why was it a big deal?”
Xavier set his half-empty glass on the counter and then squared up to face her. “It’s not something I like to discuss with people I don’t know. Especially when they’re here to watch over me like I’m a child.”
“Harsh.” She handed him her empty tumbler. “Thanks for the drink. I’ll just head back to my car and hang out there.” She turned on her heel.
“You’re going to sweat it out in your car just because I won’t tell you what you want to hear?”
Halting, she turned. With narrowed eyes, she contemplated him. “When you refuse to answer a simple question, what makes you think I don’t believe you’re lying about not knowing what happened with you and Clint Kruger? Hiding something as trivial as why you don’t want the people of McIntire County to know about your family can lead one to believe you’re hiding other things. If I were being accused of murdering someone, I sure as heck wouldn’t be so tight-lipped about my life.”
“Well, aren’t you just a figjam.”
Nostrils flaring, she took a more defensive stance. “What are you talking about?”
“For someone with a high opinion of herself, you’re not exactly loosey-goosey with your secrets, either, Deputy Murdoch.”
“I have no secrets.”
He gave a jaded chuckle. “Keep lying to yourself.”
“This was a mistake,” she muttered. Turning on a dime, she stalked to the front door and let herself out.
Hell, yeah, it was a mistake. He should have sent her back to her post or ignored her knocking. Making her mad at him sent a kick of regret to his gut, and it wasn’t a welcomed reaction. What was wrong with him? He shouldn’t be worried about what one woman thought of him.
Downing the rest of his kombucha, he deposited the glasses in the dishwasher and turned for the basement door. A good round of punching-bag punishment was what the therapist ordered. He didn’t get far before the back-door screen squealed open.
Ariel paraded in, both arms loaded with cloth bags overflowing with groceries. Setting the bags on the counter, she pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head like a headband and squinted at him. “Why is there a deputy car parked across the street?”
“I’ve got a babysitter.” He moved to help her unpack.
“What for?”
“Just in case.”
Ariel grabbed his hand as he lifted out a leafy celery bunch. “Just in case of what?”
Disengaging their contact, he hiked over to the fridge to put the celery in the crisper drawer. “It doesn’t matter.”
“The hell you say. Xavier, this nonsense has gone on long enough. I think Zac knows more than I do.”
Slapping the fridge door closed, he pointed a finger at her. “You’re not Mum, and you don’t get to have your way. Don’t forget, Ariel, I’m the older one, not you.” With that, he retraced his steps back to the basement entry and headed down the steps, at certain points using the rails to swing his body down to increase his pace. Let her put the damn groceries away alone; he wasn’t going to stand around getting nagged at.
Xavier snagged the half-finger gloves from their perch on the wooden shelf near the staircase and slipped them on as he made his way to the punching bag dangling from a stout center beam. Gloves snugly in place, he stared at the grungy
bag. He should give Ariel the benefit of the doubt and tell her what was going on, but the thought of her knowing he was a potential murderer was enough to make him want to throw up. It was one thing to fight in a war and kill an enemy combatant; it was different when that person was a harmless innocent.
He slammed his fist square into the bag, the shock of hitting it full on vibrating through his body. He would talk to Ariel later, after he worked out his anger and cleared his head. Screw what the doctor said about taking it easy. Xavier sent a left-handed hook punch to the side of the bag.
Times like these, he really wished that IED had taken his life along with his brothers’.
• • •
After two hours of waiting in this microwave oven of a car, Jolie did the unthinkable. She dozed off. When the car door opened, startling her awake, she was ready to bail and shoot, until her brain registered who had joined her.
Xavier strapped himself in and nodded at the steering wheel. “Drive, Deputy.”
“What are you doing?”
He gave her a pointed look. “Take me to the Unified Church of Eider.”
“Why?”
“I’ll explain when we get there. Just drive.”
What the fudge? Who gave him the authority to tell her what to do? She was here to watch him, not chauffeur him around town. If she got caught leaving her post, she’d get the reaming of her life, a black mark on her brand-new record, and she couldn’t even think about the fallout over that with Daddy.
“This isn’t how it works.”
Xavier’s features morphed from stiff determination to exasperation, like a parent looking at their misguided child. “Deputy Murdoch, you were assigned to watch over me, were you not?”
“Yes.”
“Your assignment doesn’t mean you’re stationed outside my home and unable to go anywhere with me. Are you not still watching over me if you’re taking me somewhere?”
Well, when he put it that way … Heaving a frustrated sigh, one that came from the pit of her soul, she started the car, rolled up the windows, and put the AC on full blast, directing the vents to blow the air on her face. Jolie left the curb, pulled a U-turn, and headed in the direction of the church.
As she drove, she checked out Xavier sitting stoically next to her. At some point he’d changed his clothes, now wearing jeans and a snug-fitting black tee with a printed logo that said Oscar Mike, a pair of dog tags dangling below the words. The sleeves were stretched tight over his biceps, and from this angle she noticed another tattoo, this one of the American and Australian flags entwined together.
Dragging her attention back to the road, she gripped the wheel, her slick hands slipping over the leather. His scent, caught up by the air pouring from the vents, swirled around her, as potent as the heat that had passed between them at the hospital last night. A slow burn crawled through her veins, the skin on her wrist flaring with the memory of his rough fingers.
Jolie swallowed. Oh, God, did he hear her gulp? She chanced a peek at his profile, but he seemed absorbed in staring out the passenger window. She shifted to find a more nonchalant position, one wrist draped over the wheel to steer, the other on the door handle. But his presence filled the small space between them, and her muscles tensed with awareness.
Xavier exuded pure, raw male power. He wasn’t like the men of McIntire County. This was a place of farmers, small-town businessmen, and families. While they were not soft men, there wasn’t an edge of danger lingering around them. Even her father—the long-time sheriff—didn’t have the aura she sensed with Xavier. He hadn’t shied away from the fact that he was capable of killing, and that right there was proof enough to extinguish these insane desires for him.
Panting over some action hero—one whom she knew next to nothing about—was beyond ridiculous. For God’s sake, she was a grown woman, working in a profession that gave her a daily dose of testosterone; she would not succumb to some fantastical whim of teenage desire. Besides, at the moment, he was suspect number one in the death of Clint Kruger. A darn good reason not to be even remotely attracted to him.
She turned onto Elmhurst. Now four blocks from the church, she wasn’t waiting for his reasoning. “We’re almost there. So, what’s the big rush?”
Their gazes clashed, and she was struck by how much his eyes looked like Nic’s. Why was it so strange for her?
He looked away, rubbing his palms against his jeans. Didn’t that man ever get uncomfortably hot wearing jeans in triple-digit heat? “I still haven’t sorted it all out in my head.”
“Is that an excuse for ‘I really don’t know what the heck I’m doing’?”
“No,” he growled, “it means I really can’t tell you why, but let’s go on a hunch.”
“Oh, goodie, a hunch,” she muttered.
“You know, I might be a cripple, but my hearing works perfectly fine.”
For a man who had hid his missing limb yesterday, he was pretty flippant about it today. Still, she’d stepped into that one. Jolie stole a glance at him. From the stony expression on his face, she couldn’t decide if he was pulling her leg or was deathly serious. How could he think of himself that way? And then say it?
“Look, I don’t know what you did exactly as an MP, but I’m not an investigator. That’s Cas—Deputy Hunt’s job. She or Detective O’Hanlon really should be with you.”
“I don’t have time to wait on them to show up.” He turned back to the passenger side window. “Besides, I think you being with me helps.” His voice lowered until he whispered the last few words.
And the admission created a tingling sensation in her torso that crept south. “I … I do?”
His face flushed red. For such an alpha male, it was incredibly cute to see him embarrassed. “Don’t let it go to your head, Murdoch.”
Her lips and cheek muscles twitched. Burying her urge to smile with a cough, she focused on driving the last block to the church.
“When we get in front of the church, don’t park. I want you to drive past slowly.”
“Then what?”
“We find out what Clint Kruger was doing in the park yesterday.”
Chapter Nine
Bits of his memory were coming back, and as he sat here in the car staring at the church spire from this vantage point, the same one the driver of that car would’ve had yesterday, Xavier’s confidence in why he’d blindly followed that car began to come back.
Sarah had needed help.
“Go to the park. I do remember the driver turned in that direction.”
Murdoch directed the car down the street that met up with the park’s entrance. Her movements were stiff. He’d made her uncomfortable, probably when he’d made that comment about his disability. Sometimes people needed reminding that he wasn’t a whole man and wasn’t about to accept their pity.
She drove in silence, her attention focused on the street laid before them. It gave him an opportunity to steal glances at her, as he’d caught her doing after they left his home. The way her gaze had assessed his body, like a caress, had revved up his internal combustion. He’d actually given in to the urge to preen like a cock; puffing his chest out to make his muscles stretch the T-shirt. What was it about this woman that made him want to impress her?
Jolie wasn’t his type, if he had a type. Growing up, he’d dated anyone who tripped his fancy, but one thing remained the same: the young women were strong in body and spirit. Jolie didn’t cross him as one to bodily take down a man, let alone do the job of a police officer. She was too thin, and her height put her at a disadvantage in dealing with someone, say, his size. Even with a prosthetic, he’d have her pinned and tapping out; he didn’t dare imagine what might happen to her if someone with evil intent were to get ahold of her. And her spirit—she wanted to please everyone, do what was right, even if it meant getting railroaded. Xavier liked a woman who spoke her mind and stood up for herself, who wasn’t afraid to step on some toes to protect what she wanted or the people she loved.
The
street ended at a T intersection. She flipped on the signal and turned right, pulling into the pea-gravel lane that circled the whole park. The car crept up to a spot near the first sidewalk entrance, and she parked, thankfully leaving the engine running since it churned out the cool air.
“You know, we still haven’t found the car you mentioned.”
As Xavier stared at the sidewalk, another piece of the puzzle fell into place. He’d jogged his way to the park, and by the time he’d made it here, the car had been parked in about the same place they were now.
“The car was beige, and filthy, and was parked in this lot. Whoever drove it had vacated it with Sarah long before I arrived.” He reached for the door handle.
Her damp hand on his forearm turned his body to stone. He peered down at the pale, slim fingers cupping his muscled flesh, and his breath quickened. Holy hell, she felt good.
“Wait a minute,” she said quietly, then snatched her hand back.
A puff of cold air jolted him. He’d definitely gone AWOL on his senses.
“I should radio Jennings, at least, and let them know what we’re doing. What if you learn something about where Sarah went, and I don’t have an extra set of eyes?”
“Right. Hurry, because these flashbacks won’t stay around much longer.” He opened the door. “I need to get out and walk it.” Her mouth popped open to say something. “At ease. I’ll stay within sight.” With that, he got the hell out of there.
The assault of hot, damp air after being in a cool environment took a heavy toll on his energy level. This was the part of the Iowa summer he didn’t like. Easing back on his pace, Xavier swiped the back of his hand across his forehead; his hand came away wetter.
“Here.” A large, blue, insulated water bottle appeared in front of him. “If you hadn’t been in such a hurry to get out of the car, I could have given this to you already.”
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