The Hunk Next Door (11 page)

“I’ve had plenty of practice these past few days.”

She stacked the empty bins together and returned them to the garage.

“I drove down Main Street this afternoon,” she said when she found him waiting for her in the driveway. “It looks amazing, a step up from last year.”

“That’s what the boss asked for. I bet it’s even prettier when it’s lit up at night,” he said. “Want to go for a drive?”

She did. Desperately. The intensity scared her. “Aren’t you tired of Christmas lights and holiday displays by now?”

“Aren’t you tired of police work?”

“A little,” she confessed, startling a laugh out of both of them.

“Take a drive with me. I’ll buy you a drink.”

“Didn’t you offer to fix me dinner?”

He unhooked his tool belt and stowed it in the truck. “Maybe I’ll let a professional handle it tonight. I wouldn’t want to overwhelm you with all my talents at once.”

“You’re a terrible flirt.”

“So I’ve been told.” He winked, opening the passenger door of his truck for her.

“No, I mean you’re really bad at it.”

“You want me to up my game?”

Yes. No.
Uncertain, she pulled the door shut. When he slid into the driver’s seat she said, “I don’t want any games. I want you to be yourself.”

“Easy enough.” He stared at her for a moment that went on and on and she realized she was holding her breath. “What you see is what you get, Abby.”

How did he do that? How did he make her feel so wanted and alive with just a few words? She tried to analyze it, to view him as she might a suspect, searching for motive, but she couldn’t quite pin him down. His body language screamed sincere interest, she knew that much. And yet he was utterly unflappable about the attraction sparking between them.

“I heard you had an inside tip on the shipment,” he asked as they left the serenity of their street behind.

“That’s the popular rumor.”

“It isn’t true?”

She shook her head. Telling him the truth would be stupid, but the one thing they didn’t have was a fresh perspective. The man had serious people skills.

“You’ve met quite a few people in Belclare,” she said.

“Are you saying I’ve met your informant?”

“I just told you there wasn’t one. Why are you so curious about it?”

He outlined the steering wheel with his fingertips as they waited for a red light to change. “I’m more curious about how you operate. You’re obviously dedicated to the job and that’s good for the community. These threats are affecting everyone and that doesn’t sit right with me. Cowards who use the innocent irritate me.”

“Right there with you on that one.”

“You must have some ideas on suspects.”

“After what happened to Calder, I suspect the worst. Of everyone,” she clarified. “It’s problematic.”

He turned onto Main and she seized on the distraction, admiring an elaborate new sleigh full of gifts, towed by reindeer in brilliant harnesses and flanked by decorated trees. “Wow,” she whispered. “The tourists are going to eat this up.”

“Wait until you see how the park turned out.”

“Let’s go look.” She twisted around in the seat, hoping to catch a glimpse as they passed the intersection.

“Right after we eat. The decorations will be there all month.”

* * *

R
ILEY WAS A
little surprised Abby didn’t argue more as he found an open parking space in the lot behind the pub he’d checked out a couple of nights ago. He shut off the truck’s engine and pulled the key from the ignition. Before he could reach for his door, she stopped him, her hand light on his arm. He frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Just think it through,” she answered. “You’ve said you want to stay in Belclare.”

He nodded. “Right. I showed you the signed lease.”

“That’s my point, Riley. Having dinner with me could create long-term problems for you.”

His thoughts turned dark at the implication. A woman with her stellar record and dedication shouldn’t have to put up with this kind of crap. Not from the community and not from the lowlifes who wanted to exploit her concern for that community. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes,” she said, her mouth curving into a soft smile. “But I have plenty of food at home.”

He wondered what she’d do if he just kissed her the way he wanted to. His feelings were unexpected and unprofessional, but that didn’t lessen the desire. Thinking about the way she’d looked at him earlier, he considered capitalizing on a relationship to stay close to her, but if she ever discovered his real identity and purpose it would hurt her. He didn’t know her well, but he could tell she put stock in honesty and even his secrets were lies.

Tell her the truth,
a voice echoed in the back of his mind. He wished it were that simple.

She didn’t deserve the shock and pain of discovering what he was. Or rather, what he wasn’t. He didn’t want to give her any more reasons to second-guess her instincts. He didn’t want to be one more source of anxiety and disappointment.

“Well, too bad,” he said resolutely. “We’re here now. It’s not my business what other people think any more than it’s theirs what I think or do.”

“It’s not just what they think—”

“It’s what the people behind the threats will do. I get it.”

“And you don’t care?”

“Oh, I care.” It surprised him how much he cared. About his job, her, even Belclare as a whole. “I’ve been in stressful situations before.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“Not out here.” He shot her another grin, the one he’d learned distracted her. It worked again, as her eyes landed like a caress on his lips. “I’ll be fine, Abby, no matter the fallout.”

She was right. Heads turned as they entered the pub and found a small table near the scarred oak bar. “That thing could use some attention,” he said.

“I think they call it character.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes people forget the ‘care’ part of character.”

A smile bloomed on her face. “Are you set on remodeling the whole town?” she asked after the waitress took their drink order.

“Of course not. Fixing things is just in my blood.”

She seemed to mull over that statement for a moment before firing the next question. “Will your parents visit? I’m sure they’d be thrilled with what you’ve done.”

He was granted a short reprieve as their drinks and a basket of the pub’s hand-cut potato chips arrived. Lying was critical to his success here. It was absolutely essential to keeping her safe and finding the culprits behind the threats. So why was he fighting it so hard?

He steered the conversation to simpler topics while he stewed over his predictable nature. This need for attachment and approval had been a problem for as long as he could remember.

He understood it was a product of being an orphan with no clear understanding of his real past. Making up his history had been amusing and no one knew enough to correct his theories. Some days he’d been the son of humble farmers, other days he had superhero blood in his veins.

In no small measure, he’d found a working solution as one of Director Casey’s Specialists. He’d become part of a professional family where the past didn’t matter. Together, learning from the best operatives and support techs, they’d been able to accomplish tasks other law enforcement teams couldn’t.

Now he was out here on his own. An island once more. Casey had asked him to think this through. Riley wondered if his mentor had anticipated this sort of emotional blowback.

“What’s bothering you?”

He looked up from his plate into Abby’s concerned face. “Just thinking about my parents,” he said. It was true enough. Being an adult didn’t change his curiosity about where he’d come from. “You’re right. They would be proud of the work I’ve done here.”

She smiled. “Will you invite them?”

“You just want more tourist traffic,” he teased. “I’ve sent pictures. They don’t travel much this time of year.” Riley didn’t want to think about the kind of failure that would bring his professional parent, Thomas Casey, to Belclare.

“You’ll have to let me know what they think.”

“Sure.”

From her purse, he heard her phone chime. “Do you have them send those 24/7?”

“Right now I do. Just a traffic dispatch.” She leaned forward, lowering her voice. “I’m worried about this weekend. We received threats against specific targets today.”

“They damn well better not mess with our display in the park. I worked hard on that.”

Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “The park. The police station. The docks. Homeland Security called me again, but I don’t have anything new to tell them.”

“If they’re so worried, they should send you some manpower.”

Her eyes went wide and her head bobbed up and down. “That’s what I said. Belclare citizens check out. I know it has to be someone close, but I’ve turned over every stone and double-checked every rumor. We aren’t getting closer.”

“You will.”

“After what happened to Calder...well, I can’t help but think of worst-case scenarios.”

“That’s natural.”

“I know. Deke’s publicity efforts likely saved opening weekend, but I don’t want some sick group turning the happy crowds into victims and ruining everything.”

He reached over and caught her hand. “People are resilient. Even if the worst happens, the town will rally behind you.”

“More likely they’ll rally with cheers and confetti at my going-away party.”

“I don’t believe that. Everyone I talk to likes you.”

She narrowed her gaze, assessed him. “You’re lying.”

He cleared his throat. “I didn’t say they liked your victory speech.”

“Nice,” she said, pulling her hand away as if she just realized they were touching.
In public.

“I don’t know much about your line of work, but if you ever need someone to bounce theories off, I can listen.”

“Thanks.”

He heard the sincerity in that single word and wished he could offer her more assurances. His own searches into the backgrounds of those who were most outspoken hadn’t turned up any clear connection to known terrorists.

Everyone at the top said this was a sleeper cell. If it was true, whoever they’d planted here in Belclare had been provided with a rock-solid cover. He didn’t care for the grim parallel that made to his situation. The food arrived and he decided to forget work long enough for them to actually enjoy what they’d come here for—dinner.

“Great.” She stared at her phone, looking like someone had sucker punched her.

“More trouble?” His senses went on alert.

“You could say that. They found a match for the DNA on my snow shovel.”

“Can you talk about it?”

“I probably shouldn’t.” She swiped at her phone, then raised her blue eyes to meet his. “It appears to have been used against a guy with a long and impressive rap sheet.”

“Someone in Belclare has an impressive rap sheet?”

“No.” She scowled at her phone another minute or two while he wolfed down more of his burger. “This guy’s current address is a morgue in Baltimore. Preliminary cause of death is head trauma.”

Alarms went off in Riley’s mind. The implications of that were pretty dangerous for her.

“I should get to the office.” She looked longingly at her plate, clearly irritated by the idea of leaving her dinner unfinished. “I love these burgers, but my appetite is gone.” She grimaced and tossed her phone back into her purse.

“It won’t wait until morning?”

She shook her head. “I need to head this off with the Baltimore P.D.”

He agreed 100 percent. Someone was trying to set her up for murder. The why was an easy guess. If she was in legal trouble it would get her out of the way. But who needed her out of the way and what did they have planned when they succeeded? Planting evidence of a crime was a potential goal of its own. Make the chief look guilty and muddy her reputation, lessen the
good
and the impact of her big takedown.

That effort would prove impotent. Abby was one of the most recognized and respected people in town. Unless time of death was the middle of the night, it was likely someone in Belclare could offer her an alibi. As her neighbor, he could easily vouch for the times that her car came and went from the driveway between their houses.

“Are you worried?”

Her blue eyes narrowed at him. “Are you asking if I did it?”

He snorted. “I know you didn’t do it.”

She leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest. “Care to explain how it is you’re so certain? I haven’t even given you any details.”

“I don’t need them. You live next door and I’m a light sleeper.” He leaned closer. “I’m using the bedroom on that side of the house. Your car didn’t go anywhere last night.”

“You didn’t happen to hear anyone busting open my garage and stealing my shovel, did you?”

“No,” he confessed with a shake of his head. “They managed that sometime after I left for work.”

“You think they wanted me to find it.”

He shrugged. “Sure. It was a hassle for you, this morning, right?”

“It was a violation,” she said, her voice hard. “Something like this could cost me my job, whether or not I’m innocent.”

“Just proves my point. Whoever did it got to you, threw a wrench in your schedule, and now that you have a body to go along with the bloody shovel you have a serious, ongoing distraction from your responsibilities in Belclare.”

“For a guy who’s just passing through you seem to have your finger on the pulse around here.”

He grinned at her. “I keep telling you I like your town. When will you believe me?”

She winced. “It may not be my town much longer.”

“That’s doubtful. You don’t strike me as the type to go down without a fight.” He winked at her. “I’ve seen the video that proves it.”

Those bright blue eyes rolled up to the ceiling. “If I could go back in time and tell myself to shut up, I would.”

He laughed. “And miss all this fun?”

A fire truck went roaring past the pub and her phone rang again.

She pulled it out of her bag, but when she read the message, all the blood drained from her face. “The police station’s on fire.”

He caught the waitress’s attention and signaled for the check. “Let’s get you over there.”