When they pulled up outside the county building, the parking lot was more than half full. Jace unrolled the passenger side window all the way and told Tobias, who was hanging out with his head in Paige’s lap again, “Tobias. Stay.”
“I still think it would’ve been better to leave him at your house,” Paige said, stroking the dog’s silky ears while he looked up at her with his soulful brown eyes. “In case your stalker shows up over there.”
“In which case,” Jace said, somehow managing to pretend she hadn’t already said that twice, “I’ll still be glad I brought him with me instead. Let’s inventory what I’ve got here. I’ve got you, I’ve got my dog, I’ve got my truck, and I’ve got my gun. Yeah, that’s everything important.”
“Montana’s going to beg you to apply for residency if you keep talking like a country song,” she said, and he laughed. “You’re not afraid he’ll jump out with the window wide open?”
“No. I told him to stay. He’ll only jump out if somebody comes along and mucks about where they shouldn’t. Then he’ll make them sorry they tried.”
“Making a car bomb isn’t exactly hitting somebody in the head. Talk about escalation.”
“Better safe than sorry. ‘There are old pilots, there are bold pilots, but there are no old bold pilots.’ The bloke who said that was a soldier. Well, an airman. Nearly as good. Also, we’re doing some more of that deterrence. And do you want to stay out here and have a chat about my dog, or would you like to go inside?”
“I want to go inside, of course. I know this is a good idea.”
“Yes,” he said, sounding much too patient. “It is. That’s why you thought of it.”
“I’m just balking at the thought of going out of my way to look weak, now that we’ve come to it.”
“But it won’t be you doing it. It’ll be Lily, who isn’t in the business of projecting authority. If you’re going to carry on being Lily, you’d better get some practice. Sorry to say it, but you’ve slipped up a fair few times so far.”
“Right,” she said, and opened the door.
He said, “Bloody hell. What did I just say? Wait for me to come around.”
“Oh.” She did, and reminded herself, Lily, when Jace lifted her down with both hands around her waist like she weighed nothing. Then she wrecked it by saying, “You could at least pretend you aren’t enjoying getting the chance to do it.”
He laughed. “As you’re pretending you aren’t enjoying having me do it, I’d say we’re even.”
“Points,” she said, and he grinned again, said, “I know,” and got out the walking stick he’d made for her.
“I still say it’s overkill,” she said, even though it actually did help.
“No. You’re wounded, but brave. Work on it. You have about two minutes.”
The meeting was in the commissioners’ chambers, which were set up auditorium-style, with a rectangular table on a dais up front. They’d left their entrance until five minutes before the meeting was set to begin in order to maximize the impact, and it was working. At least, a buzz started and grew as Paige limped down the aisle on her stick, her left arm in a sling, her upper lip still swollen, and the bruising on her face now a violent red. A woman a little older than she was, whom she hadn’t seen before, stood up and said, “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry. I was just going to call you to see if you wanted to go to the craft fair in Kalispell, and then I heard. Your poor face.” She held out her arms, stepped forward, then hesitated. “Are you huggable?”
“Not really,” Paige said. “But thank you. I’d smile, but it hurts.” Good thing she hadn’t had to go to the craft fair. She was sure that would’ve been a major fail. When she looked at crafts, she didn’t think, I could make that. She didn’t even think, I could buy that. She mostly thought, Who cares?
Hailey was there now, too, saying, “I can’t believe you actually came.”
“I told you I would,” Paige said.
“I know. And I told everybody you were going to, like you asked. Sweetie, you’re so brave. But first the shop, and now this? Why would somebody do that?”
She was about to go off again, Paige could tell. Jace said, “We’d better sit down. Meeting’s about to start.”
“I’m glad you’re with her, anyway,” Hailey told him. “There’s nothing like having a big, strong man around to make you feel safer.”
“That’s so true,” Paige said in as Lily-like a tone as she could manage. “I’m thanking my lucky stars that he’s here to protect me.”
Jace put a light hand on her lower back and whispered in her ear as they made their slow way down the aisle, “All right. That may have been going too far.”
She didn’t answer, because she was looking around. Most of the parties in question had shown up. Good. Raeleigh the motel owner, with a man who must have been her husband. The gas station guy. Jennifer from the gym, of course, and her husband. Sergeant Worthington standing near the back with another cop, prepared for trouble. None of them looked thrilled to see her, and neither did most of the other hundred or so souls in the room.
Paige found the kind of seats they’d planned on. Front row, on the aisle. Nice and visible. She got herself sitting down, which didn’t feel fabulous, and told Jace, “I always wonder what they think a big, strong man can do that a twelve-gauge can’t. Nothing says, ‘Argument’s over’ like a shotgun.” Which Jace had gone out and purchased today, too. Ostentatiously.
Up on the dais, the commissioners were doing some rustling. Over to one side, Brett Hunter gave Paige a wave. A “Hi, how’re you doing” thing, not a “Sorry you got beat up because of my project” thing.
“I’d think it was him,” Paige told Jace, not waving back, “but it would be way beneath him to get all passionate like that.”
“It’s business to him, that’s all,” Jace said. “People like that don’t want to get passionate.”
“I don’t get it,” Paige said.
Jace gave her that almost-smile that was more of a deepening of the lines around his eyes. “I know you don’t. That’s part of your charm.”
Nice, but then the commissioners were talking. About the project, about feasibility studies and sewer and water and the Forest Service and land use, and Paige may have zoned out some. Finally, the chairman, a heavyset gray guy with jowls, said, “I’m pleased to see that Lily Hollander has come tonight. We were all sorry to hear about what’s happened to you,” he said to her.
Four of the five commissioners looked like they were either sorry, somewhat sorry, or might consider being sorry at some future date. One of them looked nothing like sorry.
“Who’s that guy?” Paige whispered to Jace. “The one who especially hates me?”
He could read the name plate, apparently, because he said, “J. Knightley. Mean anything?”
“Oh. My shoplifter’s father.” Somebody had said her name, though she couldn’t remember who. “You must have eyesight like an eagle.”
“I do. It’s useful. Do you think he’d bash you for catching his daughter nicking the stock? Seems extreme. Also, he wasn’t there.”
“No,” she said with a sigh. “Unfortunately, because I didn’t like her, and I bet I wouldn’t like her dad, either.”
Knightley was glaring at her now, and she realized, Oh. Talking during the presentation. Too bad, buddy. She shut up, though. She wanted to hear what came next.
The chairman was saying, “We’d like to invite Brett Hunter to come up and talk about the project, along with giving us some revenue projections.”
It wasn’t that Hunter was boring. It was just that he had slides. With graphs. Also artist’s renditions of buildings, which weren’t much better. Slides always put Paige to sleep. She was actually in danger of nodding off when Hunter said, “I think you’ve got the idea. I’ll take questions now.”
A rustle behind Paige, the sound of people standing to let somebody past and into the aisle, and then she recognized the gas station guy’s voice over the PA system. “Does this whole thing really depend on Lily Hollander’s selling?”
“As currently envisioned, yes,” Hunter said. “As I’ve explained, that land, together with the Forest Service land to the east, is the terrain best suited for cross-country trails. Snowshoe trails. In particular, we need the gentler slopes on her land.”
“But you could still expand the ski mountain without it,” Gas Station Man said. “You just told us all about that part.”
“True,” Hunter said, “but then, a developer tends to want the whole enchilada when he’s making this kind of investment.”
Paige started to stand up, then, and Jace stood, too, his hand under her elbow, and helped her to her feet. Ostentatiously again. Hunter said, “Looks like we have a question in the front from Ms. Hollander.”
Jace leaned down as if to whisper something in Paige’s ear, an elaborate piece of role-playing that had been his idea. He stood up straight again and said, in a voice loud enough to carry to the back of the room, “I’ll be making Ms. Hollander’s statement for her, as she’s unwell. I’d like to come up there to do it, if I may. Make sure everybody hears it.”
“By all means,” Hunter said, even though it really wasn’t for him to say. The chairman didn’t look eager to argue the point—or any point—with his benefactor, though, and Jace leaped up the stairs with a whole lot of athletic grace. It was a showy enough performance that Paige was surprised he hadn’t put a hand on the four-foot-high platform and vaulted up.
I think about what Jace would do, Rafe had said in that interview, and then I do it prettier. She had a feeling that this time around, Jace was doing it like Rafe. Doing it not like a man who had no need to advertise his toughness, because he’d long since proved it beyond any doubt, but like an action star.
He’d dressed the part, that was for sure. Dark Levi’s, boots that she’d swear were military-issue, and a black T-shirt snug enough to show off his muscular physique and reveal the business end of the dagger tattooed on his arm. All he needed were military fatigues and a knife on his belt to present the whole picture.
He took a moment before he started, adjusting the microphone upward as if to emphasize that he was possibly two whole inches taller than Brett Hunter. Men and their size obsession. Finally, though, he stood back, looked around the room like the eagle she’d compared him too, and began to speak.
“First,” he said, “I think that anybody who doesn’t know it already should be aware that Ms. Hollander’s shop has been attacked, her animals have been killed, and last night, she herself was attacked. More than attacked. If things had gone a different way, somebody would be looking at a murder charge right now.”
A buzz in the room, and Jace said, “I’m not going to believe that’s how most of you deal with neighbor disputes, or that you think it’s right to beat a defenseless woman. If I did, I wouldn’t live here, and neither would you. I don’t think that’s what Montana stands for. Your property is yours, whoever you are, rich or poor, and you have the right to defend it. And not to sell it, too. Of course, I’m Australian. Anybody want to offer up another opinion, set me right?”
He looked out into the audience. Black scruff, black hair less than tamed. Black shirt. Darkness. Challenge.
Raeleigh Franklin stood up in the audience. She didn’t bother going to the microphone, just called out, “Who says somebody here did that? Maybe she’s sleeping with somebody’s husband, did you think of that?”
“No,” Jace said, “I didn’t. That might be because she’s sleeping with me, so I tend to know where she is.” He let the buzz from that die down, then said, “This may also be a good time to tell you a bit about myself. Mr. Hunter brought a slideshow. Mind if I borrow your system?” He held up a thumb drive.
“Of course,” Hunter said, and obliged. A minute more, and a picture appeared on the big screen. This time, Paige didn’t have trouble staying awake.
A man in desert camo, helmet, body armor, and full tactical gear, with an assault rifle slung over a broad shoulder. It didn’t look like Jace, and it did. Same stare. Same diamond-hard blue eyes. Same set jaw with its scruff of black beard.
Oh, yeah. She’d take that guy. She may have gotten a little distracted, in fact.
Jace didn’t say anything, just clicked to the next slide. Same man—him—hanging out of the open door of a helicopter with one hand, his rifle no longer slung over his shoulder. Paige would take that guy, too. Any day of the week, and twice on Sundays.
Jace waited a moment, then said, “These days, I write thriller novels. In which the hero always wins, and the body count tends to get pretty high before it’s all over. I didn’t always do that, though. I served eight years in the Second Commando Regiment of the Royal Australian Army. You’d call it ‘special forces.’ We called it ‘search and destroy.’”
One more slide. Jace in low-slung fatigues, his shirt off, his tattoo visible, and Paige could swear the collective estrogen level in the room rose. “Motto of the Second Commando Regiment,” he said, clicking once more to show two black diamonds bisected by a dagger. “Foras Admonitio. Without warning.”
He clicked again. To blackness. He stood in front of the screen and said, “But I’m giving you warning. Call it fair warning. Call it your last warning. I can operate in the daylight. I operate in the dark even better. From here on out, consider me Lily’s shadow. Assume that wherever she is, I’m one step beyond, and I’m watching. She’s telling you she’s not selling. I’m here to back her up.” He held out his hand for the thumb drive, and Brett Hunter handed it to him without a word. Jace nodded, came down the stairs as athletically as he’d gone up them, and headed back to sit beside Paige.
She gripped his arm, leaned over, and whispered, “That was great. Don’t put it in a book, though. It’s over the top.”
He grinned at her. “I know. I’m guessing it’ll work. Civilians are pussies, hey.”
She wanted to laugh, but it wouldn’t have set the right tone. Up on stage, Brett Hunter had taken the microphone again.
“I have two responses to that,” he said. “First, I’m officially scared.” He didn’t look it. “And second—I’m here to pursue a mutually beneficial business transaction. I’m not here to get anybody hurt or intimidated. That would make my investors nervous. So let me go on record here and now and say that if there’s any further attempt to intimidate Ms. Hollander into selling her property to me, I’ll be cutting my losses and leaving, because this won’t be a town where I can do business. By Monday, we’ll know which it is, so you won’t have to hang out with the suspense much longer, and neither will I.”
“Whoa,” Paige muttered.
Somebody else was coming forward. Sergeant Worthington. This night was getting more and more interesting. He made his deliberate way up the stairs to the platform, took the microphone, looked out at the crowd, and said, “A reminder, folks. If you go taking the law into your own hands, you risk not being on the right side of that law anymore. You’re putting yourself in danger two different ways. You’re not trained for it, and the legal consequences could be serious. Call 911 and let us handle it, please.”
Jace sat back and folded his arms, and Paige got the message without him saying a word. I might be in danger, but the other guy will be dead.
A rustle from the crowd, and Hailey’s voice rang out. “We have the right to defend ourselves. I work at Sinful Desires, too. I love that store. And I’m carrying. So you all know.”
Paige had to turn around and look. Hailey was standing, her chin lifted, and she looked as ferocious as it was possible for a well-built fiftyish lady in a silky navy-blue top to look. A man stood up beside her, cleared his throat, and said, “I’m her husband. And so am I.”
Worthington held out a palm, and Paige had to feel some sympathy for him. A shootout on Main Street would not end well. For anybody. “Everybody has the right to defend themselves if their life’s in danger,” he said. “But we’re still going to investigate any incident, and so is the DA. Leave the life-or-death decisions to us, please, unless you’re darn sure it is a life-or-death situation. Call 911.”
After that, it was all over but the shouting. The chairman said a final few words and slammed the gavel down, and the audience began to file out amidst a buzz of talk. Entertaining evening, apparently. A few women came up to Paige, sliding their eyes on over to Jace, and commiserated over her injuries in a way she found decidedly uncomfortable. Being Lily had never been harder.
The only person who addressed what had happened directly, though, was Hailey.
She hurried up, smiling, with her hand over her heart. “Oh, my goodness,” she told Jace, “I swear I had a hot flash. That was like a romance novel. If I was twenty years younger—and not married, of course—well, I wouldn’t be too sure of what I might do.”
“I’m a gentleman,” Jace said, letting his grin show at last, “or I’d answer that better. I like you, too. Although you’ve got me well and truly scared now that I know you’re armed.”
She laughed again. “I do not. You’re terrible.” She told Paige, “Jarrod Knightley was not happy. Did you watch his face?”
“No,” Paige admitted. “I was watching Jace.”
Hailey said, “Well, I can understand that.”
“And thank you,” Paige added. “You were awesome. You surprised me.”
“Well, I shouldn’t have,” Hailey said a little tartly. “You should know how I feel by now. For heaven’s sake. But anyway, Jarrod. Word’s gotten around about Madison’s bad habit.”
“How did that happen, I wonder?” Jace asked the air.
Hailey said, “Well, if somebody’s going to steal from our beautiful store, I’m not going to keep quiet about it. And I think the other merchants ought to know. Nobody can afford that. Nobody should have to afford that. I don’t care who your dad is, you don’t get to steal.”
“No argument from me,” Jace said.
Brett Hunter stood at the edge of the little group, and Paige put a hand on Hailey’s arm, turned to him, and said, “I wasn’t expecting that. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” he said. “Just looking after my interests. And my skin.”
Paige studied him. “I can’t believe,” she said slowly, “that you’d really invest all this time and effort if acquiring one twenty-acre parcel is the make-or-break difference in going ahead or not. Tell the truth. Is it really?”
“Ah,” he said with a smile, “But you see, a good businessman never shows his hand. Anything I can help you with regarding that offer?”
“No,” she said, “I think I’ve got it.”
“Good.” His expression shifted. “And I am sorry. Surprised, too. I have to say, this is a first.”
Jace said, “But then, some bee colonies are Africanized, and some aren’t. The difference isn’t whether they’ll sting if they’re provoked. The difference is how many times. I think we’ve got an Africanized colony.”
“Do you?” Hunter asked. “I hope not.” He reached out a hand, and after a moment, Jace took it. “Good speech. Great visuals. Want a job?”
“No,” Jace said. “I already have a job.”
Hunter sighed. “Always the way. The best ones are already taken.” He gave Paige a bland look that she had no trouble interpreting, and from the way Jace’s posture changed, he didn’t have any trouble, either.
“Bastard,” he muttered as Hunter moved off. “And I want to hate him, but I can’t. Bugger.”
“I know,” Paige agreed. “He’s annoying.”
Jace looked at her more sharply. “How’re you going? You don’t look too flash.”
“Oh, you know.” She tried to make it airy. “Long time to sit. Thank you, though. I can’t believe you. And thanks a lot for the Africanized bees.”
“We’ll go,” he said. “I’d say we’re done. I’ll admit, you put the Africanized bees into my mind. Talk about an effective image. It’s about flinging down the gauntlet. Generally, nobody picks it up. Lucky for us.”