Constant Risk

by Janie Crouch

  “The thought of having to talk about this while Jeter is sitting right there in front of me? I’m just not sure I can do it.”

  He pulled her more firmly against his chest, tucking her head under his chin. His big body seemed to surround her on every side. It was almost impossible not to feel like he could defeat any foe for her when he held her like this.

  “I’ll be there with you every second you’re on that stand. You won’t have to look at him, you’ll look at me. I may hate that bastard with a passion for what he did to you, but I’ll always be thankful that, because of him, you ended up in Risk Peak.”

  He was right. Michael Jeter didn’t have any control over her now. He was in jail, awaiting trial, and soon would be in prison. Probably forever. She didn’t want to give Jeter any more of her time. Any more of her life.

  She twined her arms around Tanner’s neck. This was what was important. This man who meant everything to her. “Make love to me, Captain Hot Lips.”

  He grinned at her nickname for him. “My pleasure.”

  Immediately she found herself lifted by the hips and pressed into the window she’d just been looking out of.

  There was no place for the ghosts of the past when all she could think about or feel was Tanner’s strong body pressed up against hers.

  This man had been her only lover, and it was just fine with her if that was the case for the rest of her life. She couldn’t imagine she would ever find the same passion with someone else. And had no interest in trying.

  Her head fell to the side, exposing her neck as those talented hot lips made their way down her jaw and onto her throat. She didn’t even try to hide the whimper that escaped her when his hand slid up the outside of her thigh and hooked her leg over his hip. It brought them in direct contact with each other.

  There was nowhere else she’d rather be than right here with him. She let out another little moan, pulling him closer.

  “If you don’t stop making those sounds, we are very definitely not going to make it to the bed,” he said against her throat.

  “Maybe I don’t want to make it to the bed.”

  With a moan of his own, he reached down and grabbed her other leg so they were both wrapped around his waist.

  They both let out a hiss at the build of the friction, the heat, the passion that was always just a breath away between them.

  And no, they didn’t make it to the bed.

  Chapter Four

  When Bree woke the next morning Tanner was already out of bed, which wasn’t unusual—the man loved to wake with the dawn. She smelled coffee in the kitchen and padded from the bedroom to pour herself a cup.

  Her heart stuttered in her chest as she caught sight of Tanner sitting in the rocking chair directly outside the window she’d been gazing out last night. He had a cup of coffee of his own resting on the porch railing.

  When he’d been recovering from his stab wounds months ago they’d discovered that sitting out on the porch in the morning—even if it was only for a few minutes—helped settle his mind and get him ready for the day. His PTSD symptoms, a result of being held and tortured by a gang nearly four years ago now, were much easier to manage if he was able to take this quiet time in the morning.

  She’d been wrong last night. She’d thought it had been her mind’s image of the land that had comforted her. But really it had been this image—Tanner looking out at the land that was so much a part of him him—that her mind had clung to. A strong, rugged man facing the strong, rugged land was the most breathtaking thing she’d ever seen.

  She wrapped herself in a blanket and walked over and opened the door. His dazzling smile let her know she was more than welcome. She was almost to him when his arm just snaked out and wrapped around her waist, yanking her the rest of the way into his lap. His lips were cold against hers as he kissed her. She yelped and giggled.

  “Good morning.”

  She wondered if her heart would do somersaults in her chest every time she heard his deep voice rumble in the morning.

  She hoped so.

  She fitted herself more firmly against him, curling her legs up onto his for warmth. His arms tucked her against him, pulling the blanket around her to keep her warm. A couple minutes later Corfu, the dog Tanner had given her months ago when she’d been heartbroken with loss, came wandering out of the barn and sat down contentedly at Tanner’s feet.

  “I don’t think I could ever get tired of this view,” she said, sipping on her coffee as he rocked them both.

  His arms tightened around her. “Really? I would’ve thought you would want to see the world. Journey to all the places you never got to go because the Organization was hunting you.”

  “I will. There’s lots of time to get to all those places.” She smiled. “I’m not as old as you, you know—the Grim Reaper is not quite ringing my doorbell just yet. I’ve got plenty of time to see the places I want to see.”

  She expected him to tickle her or rub her back at the old-age comment, but he didn’t.

  Finally she nudged him. “Did I wear you out too much last night? Got you coming to grips with your own mortality? Do I need to go get your walker?”

  Now she definitely expected him to pick her up and throw her over his shoulder and take her back to bed. Tanner might be ten years older than her, but he was definitely one of the fittest and most able-bodied people she knew. Their difference in age had never really been an issue.

  “My job doesn’t leave me a lot of time to journey the world,” he finally said.

  She tried to scoot back in his lap so she could look in his eye, but he kept her tucked up against him. “Well, I’m not planning on quitting my job and becoming a nomad. Now more than ever I want to be in Risk Peak.”

  “Because of the shelter?”

  “New Journeys.”

  “What?” he asked.

  “It’s funny that you would mention traveling and journeys because that’s what Cass and I decided to name the shelter in the grant proposal. New Journeys. That’s what it is for so many of these women. A new start. A chance to go somewhere they’ve never been.”

  “It’s a great name. And the new building...” He faded off.

  Once again she was struck by his lack of enthusiasm. It was like he wanted to support this new change, but something was holding him back.

  “I know it’s going to be a lot of work, but I’m up to it.”

  “Believe me, I never doubted that you were up to it,” he said.

  She broke away from his hold and leaned back so she could look into his eyes. “Then what? Obviously there’s more to what you’re thinking.”

  He took in a deep breath. “Just, someone is going to need to live there, full-time, right? I thought you might want that.”

  She could feel her brows furrow as she tried to take in what he was saying. She’d been living here at the ranch since he’d gotten out of the hospital three months ago. It had started as her being here because he needed someone to help him recuperate. But, just like Tanner’s mother had predicted, there’d been no talk of Bree ever moving back out again.

  Until right now.

  But maybe Mrs. Dempsey had been wrong. Maybe Tanner was ready to have his space back. Bree hadn’t made any plans to live at the New Journeys building—she and Cassandra had already found a young, single mother who would make an excellent facilitator for the building. They’d approached Marilyn even before applying for the grant since neither Bree or Cassandra would be able to live at the shelter full-time.

  Or so Bree had thought.

  She knew Tanner loved her, and she loved him. But they’d never really talked about any specifics of how their relationship would play out long term.

  “I—”

  “Love doesn’t—”

  They both started speaking at the same time, then both stopped.

  “You
go,” he said. “Love doesn’t what? Say what you need to say.”

  Bree shrugged. She didn’t want to make this awkward, although that seemed to be her superpower. “Love doesn’t always mean marriage and settling down and having kids. I know that. I don’t expect that.”

  It was what she wanted, sure, but she didn’t need a ring or a white dress to know that Tanner loved her.

  She looked more closely at his face and realized she had said something very wrong. His features weren’t cold, but they definitely lacked the warmth and welcome she’d always had from him.

  She swallowed hard, a ball of dread forming in her belly. “Tanner, I’m sorry. I said something wrong, didn’t I?” Damn her inability to process emotions like other people. “I love you.”

  Some of the cool melted from his brown eyes. He brought his thumb up and trailed it down her cheek. “I know you do, freckles. And I love you. I want you to be able to do all the things you want to do.”

  There was nothing she wanted to do without him. “There are things I want to do, but—”

  Tanner muttered a soft curse as his phone began buzzing on the porch rail next to his coffee.

  “Hold that thought,” he muttered as he grabbed the phone. “I’m on call so I have to take this.”

  The way she’d already butchered this conversation it was probably best for them to completely restart it anyway.

  “I’ll go inside and start breakfast,” she muttered, getting off his lap. He looked like he wanted to argue but the phone buzzed again so he just nodded.

  Good. Maybe she could figure out how to fix what she was trying to say.

  * * *

  TANNER GRABBED HIS phone as he watched the woman he loved, the same woman who just said that love didn’t equal marriage—bundle herself into her blanket and walk inside the house.

  That talk hadn’t gone the way he’d planned.

  He hit the receive button with far more force than necessary. “Tanner Dempsey.”

  “Tanner, it’s Richard Whitaker.”

  “Hey, Whitaker. I thought you were taking some vacation time and heading back to Dallas. Are you in Grand County already?” Whitaker was the other deputy captain of the Grand County Sheriff’s Department.

  “No, I actually just got off the phone with Sheriff Duggan. I’m going to be taking a little more leave, helping out here. Dallas has a serial killer, Tanner.”

  Tanner winced and gave a dry laugh at the same time. “You always did complain there wasn’t enough action around here.”

  “Believe me, this particular case is more action than I ever wanted to deal with.”

  It almost seemed like the man was asking for his help. “You calling me for backup?”

  Tanner couldn’t imagine many scenarios where he would be tremendously helpful for a murder investigation in Dallas.

  “We do need help. In a big way.” Whitaker’s voice was strained. “This is personal for me. One of the victims was a girl from my old neighborhood.”

  Tanner straightened. He and Whitaker might not have always seen eye to eye, especially since a few months ago the man had thought Tanner was responsible for three murders, but Tanner would still do whatever he could to help him.

  The fact that Whitaker was calling him at all spoke volumes.

  “Richard, what do you need?”

  “Actually, I need Bree. We’re on a strict countdown—literally—and she may be the only one with the computer skills we need. The killer is sending live footage of the victim, and that’s the only thing we’ve got to go on.”

  Tanner swallowed a curse. “That’s messed up.”

  “I know. We’re going to have another girl dead within a few days if we don’t get someone in here who can think outside the box when it comes to tech stuff. I trust Bree, and we both know there’s no one better in the world.”

  The only other possible person as good as Bree was currently waiting in jail in the city where he’d been assigned federal trial.

  Dallas.

  Tanner let out a curse. “You know Michael Jeter is being held in Dallas, right? I don’t like the thought of bringing Bree into the same town as him, even if he is in a cell.”

  “I know, man. And trust me, if I had anyone else to ask, I would do it. We’ve got good computer people here, and they’re stumped. We need the best.”

  That was Bree.

  Tanner rubbed his eyes. Until Jeter was in actual prison, and not just a county jail cell, Tanner wasn’t going to breathe easy, even from here. Bringing Bree closer to Jeter went against every protective fiber in his being.

  But he also knew Bree. Knew she would never agree to hide from the possible risk of Jeter, even after her near panic attack last night just thinking about him, if lives were at stake. If Bree could help she would want to.

  “Okay, I know she’ll want to help. I’ll get her to you.”

  He listened as Whitaker provided details about flights that day. Tanner would get Bree to Dallas. But he damn well would be staying glued to her side.

  Chapter Five

  On the way to help with a murder case was not the way Bree had envisioned taking her first airplane ride.

  When Tanner had come in from talking on the phone his face had been pinched and tight.

  “That was Whitaker. He’s in Dallas and has a serial killer on his hands. He needs help.”

  She’d just nodded. She didn’t like that their conversation would have to wait, but knew Tanner’s job was always important. “When do you leave?”

  “Actually, it’s more you he needs than me. He has a killer sending some sort of live footage of the murder scene and their tech team can’t figure out from where. He’d like for you to take a look.”

  She hadn’t even been sure how to respond. The police wanted her to help with a case?

  “You don’t have to go, of course,” Tanner said when she hadn’t answered.

  “No. I want to help.” Just the thought of being at a strange police department by herself, even with Whitaker around, was daunting. She shrugged. “I just don’t do well with people. You know.”

  He pulled her against him. Thank goodness. Maybe she hadn’t broken their relationship with what she’d said earlier. “I’m going to call the sheriff and get the time off so I can go with you. I wouldn’t ever send you alone. Plus, it’s in Dallas. I don’t even like you being in the same state as Jeter, much less the same city. I don’t care how locked up he is.”

  Tanner had arranged all the flights and details. He had even been excited for her when he’d realized this was her first time on a plane, taking the requisite picture of her from the airport terminal. He’d held her hand when the plane had hit a little turbulence. He’d talked to her and given her what few details he’d had about the situation.

  Even though everything seemed okay on the surface, Bree knew it wasn’t. Because of what she’d said this morning.

  Score another point for the girl incapable of appropriate emotions. She didn’t know how to make this right, and it wasn’t going to get any easier while trying to help solve a murder.

  Richard Whitaker was there to pick them up from the Dallas airport. He shook Tanner’s hand and smiled at Bree, knowing her well enough to understand she wouldn’t want to touch anyone unless she had to. She’d learned how to act appropriately around others, but it still didn’t come naturally.

  She gave him a little wave. “Hey, Whitaker.”

  “Thank you for coming.” He walked with them out to his car.

  “So what exactly is going on?” Tanner asked as they drove into downtown Dallas.

  Whitaker took a deep breath. “We had two bodies on two different sides of town.”

  “What was the cause of death?” Tanner asked.

  “They had both drowned.”

  “Are you sure that’s even a serial killer?” Bree
asked. “People can drown in just two inches of water.”

  “Believe me,” Whitaker said. “I would not have brought you out if I wasn’t sure we had a killer on our hands. Yes, the cause of death was drowning. Both victims weren’t in water when they were found, but they had water in their lungs.”

  “Definitely drowned then,” Bree muttered.

  Whitaker nodded, keeping his eyes on the road. “They were both found in boxes—almost like coffins. Both were restrained in the box by both wrists and ankles.”

  “Someone filled it with water while they were trapped there?” Tanner said.

  Whitaker nodded sharply. “Yes.”

  Tanner let out a curse. “Did you find out about them because of the footage the killer sent you?”

  “No, that’s new. Both victims were found by civilians. One in some woods off the highway about ten miles south of town. The other, Shelby Durrant, was found on the north side of town in a restaurant that had been closed for renovations.”

  “You know her?” Bree asked.

  Whitaker shrugged. “Not very well, but we grew up near each other. She was ten years younger than me, so I never actually hung out with her. She was just one of the neighborhood kids, you know? She was still chained in that damn box when they found her.”

  He cleared his throat. Bree and Tanner both gave Whitaker a minute to collect himself.

  “Any connection between the victims?” Tanner asked.

  “Nothing that we’ve found so far. Both were female, about five foot three, roughly a hundred pounds. Shelby was twenty-two, an African American college student at Dallas Nursing Institute. Victim number two was in her midforties, Caucasian, married, with no kids. Her name was Kelly Quinn. She worked as a bank teller. Nothing we’ve been able to find ties them together in any way.”

  “What do you need me to do?” Bree asked.