The bike rumbled out of the drive onto the street; Xavier pointed it in the direction he wanted and headed for the main road leading away from his tiny burb. His place sat on the edge of the residential part of Eider, merging with the farm properties. It was a lucky draw that he’d found a house backed up to a small wooded area with hardly any neighbors. Like in the case of last night, he wanted to know he wouldn’t hurt anyone if he went into flashback mode. Except, now, that security measure might have been for naught.
Cruising the smooth county road, he enjoyed the feel of the hot air battering his face. It sure as hell felt better and smelled better than Afghanistan. A relaxing sensation coiled through his veins, untangling his tense muscles. This was a good place to be, a safe place, where he could forget for a time who he was and what had happened to him.
Eight miles out, he passed a squad car parked alongside the road. Was that Jolie’s? He made a U-turn and roared back. It was hers. Xavier pulled the Harley in behind her car and turned off the engine. Balancing the bike between his legs, he surveyed the area. This was a grassy meadow surrounded by flowing fields of corn. Smack in the middle of the pasture stood a lone oak, shading the edge of what he thought was a pond. Kicking down the stand, he dismounted the bike and headed for a small drive in front of the squad car.
There was a well-worn path made by tires cutting through the grass that led to a dock. Xavier followed the dusty trail. Red-winged blackbirds perched on the tops of the Timothy hay chirped at him as he passed. Among the stiff reeds, large, purple heads of clover played peek-a-boo. As he closed in on the dock, he spotted a lone figure sitting at the end.
Pausing at the edge of the wood platform, he studied Jolie. She sat with her feet dangling above the dark water, her hands tucked under her thighs as she tilted her head back. The tree’s long boughs, dense with leaves, shaded her from the sun’s overbearing rays. Wisps of red hair that had escaped the knot at the nape of her neck danced in the breeze. She looked so peaceful he felt like a heel for disturbing it.
“Whoever you are, I heard the bike and your approach,” she said.
He twitched at her voice, but a small smile lifted the corner of his mouth. She wasn’t as green as she came across.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked.
Jolie turned to stare at him a moment then gave a jerk of her head to indicate he was free to come aboard. He stepped onto the dock and wandered down the planks. The pond lapped at the posts, the sound calling for a swim in its murky water. When he reached Jolie, she scooted over and patted the place next to her.
He eased down beside her; once settled—certain his prosthetic wouldn’t slip off and drop into the water—he gripped the edge of the wood, letting the steady lap of water and the occasional dragonfly flitting past wrap around his shoulders and slow his heartbeat. “It’s quiet out here.”
“I love it,” she said softly.
“Come here a lot?”
She hummed her answer. Xavier glanced over; she’d closed her eyes and had resumed her head tilt, face pointed to the sky. Letting her have her peace, he returned to his own contemplation, but her presence at his side was a distraction he couldn’t pass up.
He hadn’t seen her since she’d dropped him off at home last night after their dinner, but she hadn’t been far from his thoughts. In a way, she comforted him, even when she wasn’t physically with him, and that in and of itself was odd. Because of his screwed-up life and marine status, he’d never wanted an entanglement with any woman. Then the IED changed everything for him. That powerful reminder of who he wasn’t shut down all thoughts of love and a family.
“Do I intrigue you, Mr. Hartmann?”
Her voice, sweet and low, did a funny thing to his insides, making them jump and twitch. Bringing her chin down, she looked at him, letting her cheek rest against her shoulder. So feminine and innocent, it was a wonder he didn’t reach out and touch her.
“As a matter of fact, you do.”
A light-red eyebrow lifted. “What about me intrigues you?”
Shifting to bring his bum leg up onto the dock, he settled his forearm on his knee as he maneuvered his body to face her better. “First off, why are you out here when it’s obvious you’re on duty?”
“I’m actually on a break.” She tapped the radio on her shoulder. “But I’m ready to go when I’m needed. My turn. What are you doing out and about? I was under the impression you were supposed to be taking it easy.”
“I needed some fresh air. And this is taking it easy. What happened today that brings you out here?”
Her gaze narrowed. “How do you know something happened?”
“When a cop goes off alone, it’s usually a good indication they’re trying to decompress from a troubling situation they are involved in.”
She lifted her head off of her shoulder. “So, same question back at you. What happened to you that made you want to get out and get fresh air?”
Chuckling, he shook his head. “Guess neither of us will be answering that question.”
“Guess not.” Jolie brought her legs up and sat cross-legged. With her elbows braced on the inside of her knees, she cradled her head in her hands. “You still haven’t responded. What about me intrigues you?”
“Honestly”—he shifted to mimic her posture—“I don’t know what it is exactly. You’re not like other women I know or have met.”
“Is that so? Considering I’ve met your sister and you were a marine, that must be an interesting class of woman. Is your mother like that?”
“No. My mum is … well, if I had to compare her to someone you’d know, she’s like Maura. Or Cassy’s mum.”
“Emma?”
He nodded. Mentioning his mother was making him feel homesick. Except for the occasional video chat with her, Xavier hadn’t seen her since he left the hospital and she returned to Australia. She’d stayed with him while he’d recovered, but their connection had been strained because he hadn’t quite forgiven her for her secrets.
“What’s her name?” Jolie asked.
“Marianne.”
“Pretty. What about your father?”
His father wasn’t the man who raised him, but she didn’t need to know that. “My dad’s name is Robert. He and Mum met after she returned from Germany, and they had a short courtship before they married. Been together ever since. If you want an example of a loving and passionate relationship, they’re it.”
“Cute.”
Xavier laughed. “When you’re a teenager it’s the grossest thing on earth to watch your parents make out, on purpose, in front of you. I got over it quick when I figured out they were doing to it get a reaction out of me.”
“My parents weren’t that passionate. They have a more affectionate relationship.” Jolie brought her knees up and hugged them. “What do they do for jobs?”
“Mum’s a nurse, and Dad’s a marine biologist. I grew up on the coast, surfing and playing with the sharks.”
Jolie’s face paled. “Seriously?”
Giving her a wink, he sat back, resting against the support post. “Not really. But I did surf a lot, until I decided I wanted to be a military man.”
“Why is that? You obviously weren’t raised around it, and then you moved to America to do it, too.”
“That stems from a long story that, as I told you yesterday, I’m not comfortable talking about with strangers.”
“Surely by now we aren’t strangers.”
He sighed. “Maybe not, but just the same.”
She didn’t get huffy as she had yesterday; instead, she settled her cheek against her knees and stared at him. “Who are you, Xavier Hartmann?”
“What do you mean?”
“Anyone worth their observation skills can see it, and you’re doing a really bad job of hiding it.”
Warning bells clanged inside his head. His body tensed, and he eased away from the support post. “Hiding what?”
Her gaze pierced him; any humor she’d been exhibiting was gone, a
nd in its place was a seriousness he hadn’t seen in her yet. “It was bugging me for the longest time how your eyes and Nic’s are so similar. And while I was in the station, I happened to see a picture on Cassy’s desk of her dad holding his grandson, and it hit me.”
Xavier swallowed hard. Damn it, she was too close. And if Ariel and Zac hadn’t shown up in the hospital, it wouldn’t have been this easy for her to make comparisons. As a kid, it cut him to the bone when people would comment that he looked nothing like his siblings; obviously his mum had found him on the side of the road and felt sorry for him. All in good fun, they meant nothing by it. Bullshit! Then the truth came out, and he had to get the hell out of Oz. Oh, he’d used the excuse of going to look for the man who’d spawned him. But in reality he needed to discover who the real Xavier Hartmann was.
Now with this death hanging over his head, he wasn’t even sure who he was anymore. Maybe he was that surf bum back in Oz who lived for the next great wave.
Seeming to sense his tension, Jolie brought her head up and then climbed to her feet, looking down at him. “If I can figure it out this quickly, imagine what Nic and Cassy know. Heck, what the O’Hanlons and Boyce have figured out—they’ve been around you more than I have.”
He couldn’t find his voice. He gaped at Jolie—no use pretending he didn’t know what she was alluding to—but he was unable to piece together one coherent comeback.
“My break is over, Xavier.” She gave him a pained smile. “If it were me, I’d be telling them now instead of later. The Rivers family has been through enough hell, and I’m pretty certain they’ll weather this one.” She turned and started walking up the dock.
The panic released its death grip on his vocal cords. “Jolie.”
Pausing, she turned back, her thumbs hooked behind her duty belt.
“Why haven’t you said anything before now?”
She shrugged. “Not my place. I better go. I’ve got to find a way to prove you didn’t kill Clint Kruger. One family with a murderer is enough for this town.”
• • •
Jolie was halfway to her car when the radio crackled and Jennings hailed her.
“Murdoch, where are you?”
“Just leaving my parents’ fishing pond.”
“Okay, Sheriff wants you to come in.”
She turned around to check. Xavier was following her. “On my way in five.”
“Ten-four.”
Xavier wore a pair of jeans, heavy boots, and another military-type T-shirt, this one a blood red color with a black skull and a pair of guns as crossbones under the skull. A blackened American flag was on the right sleeve. She had to grin at the shirt, because it was always an adventure to see what he wore next. She knew for a fact that he cleaned up nicely—she’d seen him in button-up shirts and slacks at work—but this side of him was the real Xavier.
“What?” he asked as he drew close.
“I need to get back to the station. Where are you headed?”
“Are you keeping tabs on me?”
She frowned. “Uh, yeah. It’s kinda my job. So, where are you going?”
“How about I just follow you for now? I need to ask the sheriff something anyway.”
“Ask him what?”
“Something he told me this morning.”
“And what was that?” she prodded.
A moment ticked past before Xavier crossed his arms and shook his head. Jolie had to swallow hard at the sight of those bulging biceps laced over impressively big pectorals. This kind of muscled man was something she’d only seen in magazines and movies. It was enough to make her salivate, like he was a juicy slab of prime rib. What would those arms feel like holding her body and pressing her close to him?
“Earth to Murdoch.”
Snapping out of her sexually driven haze, she met his knowing gaze, and heat flamed in her cheeks. Fudge it to hell! “What?”
“You better get going before Hamilton has a stroke.”
“Not funny.”
“Sorry, old habits.”
With a shake of her head, she headed for her car. “Fine, follow me in,” she said and climbed into her car.
When she heard the engine of his Harley roar to life, she glanced in the rearview mirror, and her whole body electrified at the image of him straddling the bike, wearing reflective sunglasses that wrapped around his eyes.
“Get a grip, Joles,” she muttered and dragged her gaze from the mirror. Oh, but it was so hard not to take a few peeks.
That rebellious teenager inside of her begged her to defy Dad’s order outside the diner to stay away from Xavier. He was everything Dad didn’t like in a man: the rough, sharp-witted, tattooed, bad-boy type. The same type Ian had become. And the bad girl Jolie had long kept suppressed was ready to rear her head, assert her authority, and make a claim on the man riding that Harley.
A shiver rippled through her as she pulled onto the road and drove to the sheriff’s department. What was happening to her? This was not how she acted, ever. Especially with a man she barely knew, and a suspect in a murder investigation. But then, she wasn’t one to defy Dad or talk back to him, either. Where Ian had met him head-on, she avoided confrontation, usually allowing Mom to run interference if Jolie did something to disappoint him.
Maybe she was going through a phase. In the last year or so, nothing in her family had been normal. If that wasn’t a good reason to be going through some changes, what the heck was?
She pulled into the lot and parked. Xavier’s Harley rumbled in next to her car. Surreptitiously, she watched him turn off the engine and swiftly place the kickstand down. He continued to straddle the bike, the reflective sunglasses glinting in the midafternoon sunlight as he looked at her.
Warmth filled her chest and spread south. She turned away and busied herself with gathering her things to take inside the station. Her wits firmly in place, she left the squad car, shouldering her satchel, and walked to the back of the car, where Xavier met her.
“B-T-W, what I said back at the pond, I didn’t mean to offend you,” she said as he fell into step with her.
“You really do worry about trivial things too much, Murdoch.”
She paused—he did the same—and she frowned up at him. “It’s not trivial.”
“Considering I’m looking at a murder rap—it’s trivial.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“You seem so certain I didn’t do it.”
There was an edge to his tone, like he’d begun to doubt his innocence. Jolie let her gaze drift down to his hands, where she noticed abrasions that hadn’t been there when she saw him last night. Where had those come from? “What makes you believe you did?”
“Just what do you know?” he asked, crossing those massive arms once more.
Forcing herself to keep her gaze steady on his, she mimicked his stance. “What I know about you is what I’ve observed. You’re a man broken by war and its effects. You hide from the very people who would help you in a heartbeat. I don’t know much about the murder and how you’re connected to it; I’m too low on the pay grade to be told that. But I’ve got a damn good understanding of what it means, and I firmly believe you aren’t the killer.”
“Why do you believe that?”
Jolie reached out, slipping her fingers inside his left hand, which was resting on his forearm, and gently tugged his hand free, twining their fingers. An ache bloomed in her body at their connection. His callused hand was damp and warm. The strength in it flowed through her, begging her to step closer and wrap herself in him.
She looked at their joined hands. “I have to believe it, because you’ve given up.”
“Jolie, I haven’t given—”
“Get your hands off my daughter!”
Jolie gaped helplessly as Xavier was shoved back, their interlocked fingers slipping apart. He stumbled, rocked awkwardly on his prosthetic, lost his balance, and crashed to the pavement.
“Oh my God, Xavier.” She flung her satchel to th
e ground and moved to help him, only to have her arm ratcheted backward before being spun around. She slammed her free hand against her father’s right shoulder and ripped her captured arm free. “Dad, what the hell is wrong with you?”
“I warned you to stay away from him.”
“And I told you to mind your own business.” She danced away from his reach and moved toward Xavier, coming up short when she saw that he’d gained his footing. She gulped at the sight of a whole lot of pissed-off male standing before her.
“Mr. Murdoch, if this were a different place and time and I was the man I once was, you’d be regretting that bitch move.”
Never one to back down from a chance to assert his authority, Dad jabbed a finger in Xavier’s direction. “Son, you crossed a line where it concerns my girl.”
“No, he didn’t.”
That finger swung her way. “Stay out of this. I’ll deal with you later.”
She saw red. To hell with this shit. She grabbed Dad’s hand and flung it back at him. “I’ve had it with this bullshit. This is the third time today you’ve stuck your nose where it doesn’t belong. You’re not the sheriff any more, Dad, and it’s time you act like it.”
“Jolie—”
“No, I’m not listening to it. Either you leave and go home on your own, or I bring the sheriff out here. Just hope I don’t have Xavier press charges for assault.”
His infamous Scottish temper was bubbling under the surface, but Jolie didn’t care. She could give just as good as he served up, and right now, she had the upper hand. There was no way Dad would risk another heart attack, not with Xavier standing here.
“Go home.” She ground out the words, clenching her fists.
Dad made an about-face, turning to Xavier. “This is far from over.”
Xavier’s hand shot out and, planting it in the center of Dad’s chest, stopped him. The move was careful but assertive. “Mr. Murdoch, I’d advise you to think long and hard about your next move. Because the next time you push me, I won’t fall.”
She shivered at the aura of danger enveloping them.
Removing Xavier’s hand, Dad stormed off. Once he drove away in his truck, Jolie was finally able to breathe.
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