Chapter Five
The kid was bad news. Timothy Harding’s driver’s license said he was from Albany. When Mike asked what he was doing this far north tooling around Hopewell Springs, Harding said he was sightseeing.
Bullshit.
As Mike wrote up a speeding ticket, he maintained a wary eye on the neon blue Honda and its driver. The kid was about eighteen and skinny as a rail. Restless, but no track marks up his arms. If he’d been smoking dope, Mike would have smelled it and seen it in the kid’s eyes. No slurred speech, either, and he’d responded to questions with lucid answers. No wants or warrants for Harding, but Mike’s gut told him something was off.
Prescription drug abuse was a growing problem among teenagers. Just yesterday, the town’s drug store had reported a teenager loitering out front for hours. Problem was the description of the kid fit half the boys in town.
With no reason to detain Harding, Mike scribbled his badge number and last name at the bottom of the summons and tore it off the ticket pad. He approached the car and handed the ticket through the open window.
“Thanks for nothing,” Harding said with a sarcastic edge as he pulled slowly away from the curb.
Ignoring the bad attitude, Mike watched the car until it disappeared on the main road headed out of town. He had a feeling he hadn’t seen the last of Tim Harding, or Tim’s neon blue Honda. He’d have to keep an eye out for the kid. The last thing he wanted was to get caught with his guard down.
As Mike wiped the sweat from his brow, his fingertips grazed the long, raised ridge of the scar on his forehead. It had been more than six years, but his head still ached occasionally from the injury that had laid him up in a hospital, comatose for nearly a month.
Never again.
This town depended on him to keep its citizens safe. He’d failed once before, in a different city and another lifetime. He vowed not to repeat history.
Back in the comfort of the air-conditioned Explorer, he turned off the red and blue strobe lights and cruised toward the outskirts of town. He waved as he passed a couple of kids walking a yapping beagle. Speaking of dogs, he’d heard that Cassie had some kind of black watchdog. Even without the dog, her tough-as-nails attitude would be enough to repel any man with half a brain. Any sane man, particularly one like him who knew better, would be wise to stay far away from that little witch and her bubbling cauldron. So why couldn’t he stop thinking about her?
Because she intrigued the hell out of him.
Behind her beautiful face lay intelligence and a razor-sharp wit that contrasted with an inner softness she tried to hide. And the way she filled out a pair of jeans wasn’t bad, either.
Just your libido talking.
That, and he hadn’t had sex in ages. Not good sex, anyway. Elaine Bitters had destroyed something inside him, the part of a man that allowed him to get close to a woman. The very thing that made the difference between sex and making love. Yeah, cynical cop that he was, even he knew the difference.
Sometimes he still couldn’t believe Elaine had been undercover with Internal Affairs. IA sent her to investigate him on a bogus tip he was on the take, and she’d taken her job seriously. She’d broken every rule in the book and slept with him. She was the perfect girlfriend, and he should have seen her for exactly what she was—a conniving, driven woman who didn’t give a crap about him. Her only love was for the department and grabbing that next promotion.
Mike gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles cracked. He hadn’t seen it coming. He’d been blinded, thrilled to have a woman in his life who loved the same things he did: sports, fishing, watching NASCAR races on TV. Making love until they were both crazy. The perfect wife. That’s why he’d decided to ask her to marry him.
The same day he planned to propose, the precinct commander informed him he’d been under investigation by IA, but after a six-month review was cleared of all charges. Turned out another shift supervisor wanted the lieutenant’s position Mike was about to get and fed IA a long line of shit that Mike was dirty. Three hours after learning the woman he thought he’d been in love with was only using his ass, he responded to a domestic and got clocked in the head. Two other people died because he’d been so damned distracted he couldn’t think straight. He still blamed himself and always would.
Finding out his colleague had tried to sabotage his career was bad enough, but it didn’t compare to the shock of finding out about Elaine. It would have been quite a coup for a policewoman to nail a decorated officer. But Jesus, she’d crossed a major line where their relationship was concerned.
Hell, what relationship?
The whole thing had been built on one goddamn lie after another. Remembering what happened six years ago had him gritting his teeth so hard they hurt. Christ, he should have taken himself off the roster for the rest of the day when he’d learned about Elaine, but he couldn’t. As a supervisor, it had been his responsibility to cover a call if necessary, and the shift had been severely undermanned that day.
When he’d finally checked out of NYU Medical Center, he couldn’t deal with what had happened and locked his emotions up tighter than Fort Knox. When the chief’s position in Hopewell Springs opened up, he jumped at it. The more distance from Elaine and the city the better. Since then, he didn’t get involved and he never looked back.
Another vehicle coming down the road in the opposite direction caught Mike’s attention. It was a Trail Blazer, blue, like the one he’d seen Cassie driving. If he wasn’t mistaken, it was Cassie’s Trail Blazer. The SUV shimmied just before darting across the lane directly into Mike’s path.
“What the hell?” He jerked the wheel hard left, his front bumper coming a hair’s breadth from smashing into the Trail Blazer as it fishtailed across the road at a crazy angle.
And headed straight for a tree.
…
Cassie turned to verify Raven was unharmed. “Holy crap that was close.” Not only had she barely braked in time before embedding the hood of the Trail Blazer into a mammoth-sized maple tree, but she’d come perilously close to smashing into another SUV. If it weren’t for the other driver’s quick reflexes, she probably would have.
Her hands shook as she shut off the engine. Cassie got out of the Trail Blazer to check on the other driver but froze at the sight of the police Explorer.
And the chief of police charging at her.
“Are you all right?” Mike gripped her upper arms, pinning her with a penetrating, concerned blue stare.
“Fine,” was all she could manage. Even after the shock of a near miss, she felt every one of his strong fingers on her skin.
“Blowout?” He looked over her head at the Trail Blazer.
Cassie eyed the flattened left rear tire and wrinkled her nose at the pungent odor of burned rubber and hot, sticky asphalt. Damn thing was shredded beyond repair. What had sounded like an explosion was merely a violent blowout. “Thank God,” she murmured.
“Thank God you had a blowout?” Mike raised his brows. “Lady, you’re damn lucky you didn’t plow right into me or go face-first into that tree.”
“You don’t need to tell me that.” She pulled from his grasp, irritated at his anger. Seemed like their little truce was history.
Without thinking, she opened the rear door of the SUV to unload the spare tire and jack, forgetting about Raven who shot out in full-force attack mode, barreling straight for Mike. “No, get back!” she shouted, petrified Raven would clamp her jaws around Mike’s leg and he’d shoot her beloved dog.
But not only was Raven not attacking, she was actually wagging her tail. Mike stretched out his arm for Raven to sniff. To Cassie’s immense shock, Raven began to lick his hand, then let out little whimpering noises and lifted her paw to him. Cassie scratched her head.
Am I in another dimension?
Mike crouched to take Raven’s paw in his large hand. As he did, his navy-blue uniform slacks tightened over his legs, outlining every sculpted muscle of his thighs and butt. Talk about a great ass!
Another whine from Raven, more licks, this time to Mike’s face. “Traitor,” Cassie couldn’t help whispering.
“What?” Mike grinned as Raven drowned him in slobber. The grin turned into a slow, dangerous smile. The kind that turned women’s brains to mashed potatoes.
“Nothing.” Her gaze was irresistibly drawn to Mike’s rippling forearms and the way his uniform hugged his broad back over the Kevlar vest. And, oh Christ, the man had the most beautiful smile. All those white teeth…and those firm, sensuous lips. Cassie decided then and there that Mike wore a five-o’clock shadow better than any man she’d ever met.
“Belgian sheepdog?” He dodged another swipe of Raven’s tongue.
“Uh-huh.” She could only nod, still stupefied at Raven’s reaction to Mike. If she didn’t know better, she’d say her dog was in love.
“Great breed.” Mike stood and wiped his face with his forearm. “When I was a kid I had a German shepherd. Still miss that dog.” He gave Raven another scratch behind the ears, and Raven leaned her head against his leg.
“Yeah, some breed.” Cassie narrowed her eyes. Furry little Benedict Arnold. When they got home, a serious talk was in order.
Mike stroked Raven’s head with his long fingers. “Some police departments have Belgians on their K-9 squads.”
“Really?” Cassie bit back a knowing laugh, pretending to be ignorant of the breed’s security-oriented talents.
Mike nodded. “Yours is well-behaved. They can be a handful if they don’t have a job to do every day, but you’ve obviously trained her well.”
“Uh, thanks.” She hadn’t lifted a finger to train Raven. The dog had come to her that way, straight from the K-9 squad.
“What’s her name?” Mike wiped his face again where Raven had licked him.
“Raven.” With a shake of her head, Cassie resumed the process of changing out the flat.
“Need some help?”
“No thanks.” For some reason, she found his offer patronizing.
“Oookay.” He sent her a dubious look.
Cassie fit the lug wrench onto one of the nuts and pulled. Unsuccessfully. She tried the other nuts until every muscle in her hands, arms, shoulders, and back screamed in agony. Not one of the damned nuts budged.
Meanwhile, the late afternoon sun blazed overhead like a blowtorch, quickly covering her face in sweat and making her hot pink shorts and skimpy white tank top stick to her body like glue.
Cassie felt Mike’s intense blue eyes taking a walk all over her body. “Checking out my ass again, Chief?”
A slow, annoying smirk crept to his mouth, and for a split second Cassie was tempted to smack it off his gorgeous face. “If you don’t want folks checking out your ass, I suggest you not wear hot pink. Tends to attract attention.”
“So that’s the key, wearing boring colors?” Cassie tried another lug nut, and again had no success.
“I don’t think there’s any color you could wear that would make a difference. You’ll attract attention no matter what you’ve got on.”
She glanced at him, again wondering whether that was a compliment or an insult. What she wound up noting most was the effortless ease and competence about him. With his starched navy blue uniform outlining his incredible physique and that gun strapped to his side, he was as intimidating as a cop should be. A poster boy for the NYPD. So how did a guy like him end up in a quiet place like Hopewell Springs? And where did he get that doggone confident sexuality? The man wore it like a second skin.
“You know,” he said, “if you let me help I could save you some time and you wouldn’t risk breaking a nail. I am here to protect and serve.”
Cassie dropped the wrench and it clattered onto the hot road. She choked down the urge to flip Mike off and shoot back, “Yeah, service this.” Instead, she straightened stiffly and answered in a civil tone, “Like I said, no thanks.”
“Suit yourself.” Mike hooked one of his hands on his duty belt and leaned against the Trail Blazer, sporting an irritating, masculine smirk on his way-too-handsome face.
Cassie snatched up the wrench, fitted it onto the topmost nut, and yanked with all her might. She felt something give.
Finally. Nope. Oh, shit. The nut hadn’t given way.
She had.
Her sweaty hands slipped off the wrench handle, and she felt herself flying backward. When she expected her ass to hit the pavement, a pair of strong arms slid around her bared waist, catching her in midair.
Mike turned her in his arms but didn’t release her. She clung to his forearms for balance. When she looked up, their faces were close together and Mike’s warm breath blew across her forehead. Why does the man have to smell so freaking good all the time? Her throat constricted, and she swallowed.
Raven’s nails clicked on the pavement as she bounded to where they stood. Cassie expected the dog to interpret Mike’s nearness as an attack and launch straight at his chest. She didn’t. Her K-9 was merely curious and sat dutifully beside her.
“You okay?” He gave her a look of concern.
The air around them seemed to spark and sizzle. Every place his fingers touched on her bared waist skittered with goose bumps. She’d thought him handsome before, but… Oh, man. He had about as perfectly chiseled a profile as she’d ever seen. All hard, masculine angles, planes, and tantalizing shadows.
“Uh, fine. Good catch, Chief. Thanks.” Her breathy voice didn’t sound like her own, dammit. God only knew how long it had been since she’d reacted to a man this intensely.
Try never.
“My pleasure,” he said, backing away. The suggestive tone of his voice and the hot way he looked at her made her heart dance like sizzling bacon on a hot skillet.
Several young boys on bicycles raced along the road, laughing and waving as they flew by. He smiled and waved in return. It really did seem like every kid in town liked the guy.
Without asking, Mike picked up the lug wrench and with one yank, the nut gave way with an ear-splitting screech. He made embarrassingly quick work of unscrewing the remaining nuts.
The heat rising in her face had nothing to do with the blazing sun. She wasn’t helpless, she was a New York City detective, for Christ’s sake. So it was a little hard getting the lug nuts off. She could change a tire.
Annoyance turned to fascination as a light sheen of sweat covered Mike’s forearms, making them glisten in the blazing sunlight. As he maneuvered the jack beneath the car, the muscles in his arms rippled and bunched, making Cassie want to run her fingertips over the hard ridges. The guy could have been a cover model. On second thought, he was too raw and too much man. Everything tempting and everything she should stay away from.
He gave her a sideways look as he cranked the jack. “So how long you figure on staying in town?”
Mike eased the flat tire off the wheel hub and rolled it to the back of the Trail Blazer. He lifted out the spare, carrying it effortlessly, then shoved it onto the lug screws.
“Don’t know.” She watched as he screwed on the nuts. “Maybe ’til you get sick of my chili.”
He gave her that damned grin of his she was actually coming to like. “Then you’ll be here a helluva long time.”
Cassie couldn’t stop herself and smiled. “Don’t count on it, sailor.”
“Got any family?” Mike cranked the jack to lower the SUV to the pavement, then tightened the nuts with the wrench.
“Some.” She frowned. Mike’s questions were innocuous enough, but to an undercover cop who’d spent years perfecting the art of subtle questioning, she saw it for precisely what it was. An interrogation. The man knew darned well something was off about her being in this town, and he was bound and determined to find out what. He was too smart for her own good. Keeping her distance was the only way to avoid another inquisition.
“You sure ask a lot of questions,” she said, trying to inject a note of humor in her voice.
“You don’t answer them.”
“Maybe I’m shy.”
Mike had been about to pick up her flat tire but stood and shook his head. His broad shoulders blocked out the sun, casting a large shadow over her. “Lady, there’s not a shy bone in your body.”
Cassie pursed her lips. “Why is it you think you know me so well?”
He chucked her under her chin with one of his long fingers. “Sweetheart, I may not know where you’re from or what you’re doing here, but you and I both know you’re hiding from something. Or someone.”
For a second, she stopped breathing. Way too close to the truth for comfort. “I am not—”
“I’m not finished.” Mike gripped her chin lightly but firmly between his thumb and forefinger. The cool, unyielding face of a street-hardened cop stared down at her. His voice took on a distinct edge. “If you’re involved with anything illegal, I suggest you walk away from this town now and never look back.”
“I am not involved in anything illegal.” She jerked her chin from his hand. “And where do you get off accusing me of that? You don’t know a thing about me.”
“And you refuse to enlighten me.”
Much as she wanted to slap him, Cassie realized he was only doing his job, protecting the residents of Hopewell Springs. And he was right about her. Even if he was wrong. His instincts were too freaking perfect.
Mike glanced her way. “Ever been arrested?”
Cassie stopped breathing. It had only been a couple of weeks since Dom cuffed her behind the bar at La Femme, but for that job she’d used a different undercover name. Seven months earlier, Cassandra Younger—the name she went by now, in Hopewell Springs—had been picked up by the uniforms as part of an undercover burglary gig. And three months before that, Cassie Younger had been arrested in connection with a scumbag drug dealer selling controlled substances to high school students. As far as she knew, both those old arrests were still in NYSPIN and NCIC, the state and national criminal history databases.
“I promise you, I’ve never done anything illegal in my life.” Her real life, that was. “And I would never do anything to hurt anyone in this town.”
“Hope so. If there’s one thing I don’t tolerate, it’s a liar.” Mike watched her for what seemed like an eternity.
“I am not lying.” Well, kind of. “And I’m not a criminal.” That, at least, was the truth.
He nodded slightly, as if accepting her answer, then picked up the flat tire as if it were no heavier than a paperweight. He heaved it inside the back of her Trail Blazer then turned so abruptly he practically slammed into her. His hands grasped her shoulders. Hers grasped his waist.
The next thing Cassie felt were his hands sliding down her arms…
His lips on hers.