Harlequin Superromance January 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: Everywhere She Goes\A Promise for the Baby\That Summer at the Shore (6 page)

“I'll let you have the afternoon to yourself,” he said, his tone distant as if he'd almost put her out of his mind already.

“Thank you for taking so much time for me,” she said formally when they reached her floor and the door slid open.

He dipped his head, a frown making his features harsher. Whether he looked after her as she exited, Cait had no idea. She didn't dare glance back.

* * *

N
OAH
TRIED
LIKE
hell to stay away from his new director of community development for the rest of her first week of work. That didn't mean he didn't hear constant reports about her and have to field a couple dozen phone calls asking about her. It also didn't mean he didn't catch glimpses of her entirely too often. There was one day he swore he couldn't step out of his office without seeing her hurrying down the hall or engaged in conversation in a doorway or walking out to her car.

Earl wasn't real happy that a woman had been hired instead of a man, a hidebound attitude that didn't surprise Noah at all. Noah listed her qualifications for possibly his most contentious city council member, who grumbled but went away. Beverly Buhl, chair of the Arts, Beautification and Culture Committee, called to burble her delight about how “forward-thinking” Ms. McAllister was.

“And charming,” she enthused, to which he growled agreement; something about his voice momentarily silenced her.

Taking Ms. Cait McAllister out to lunch had been his mistake, he concluded. He'd done fine up until then. Lunch might have been fine, too, if they'd stuck to business. Instead, they'd sounded each other out about their pasts, their likes and dislikes as if they were on a first date.

Damn it, she'd made him laugh!

He wanted to be grumpy because she didn't dress professionally enough, but the truth was, she did. She went so far as to wear a suit the second day. Unfortunately, she never seemed to wear the kind of colors that would have allowed her to blend in. The suit was lemon-yellow, the skirt reached only midthigh and the jacket was short and fit snugly over very nice breasts and a slender torso. She even wore high heels in a matching shade of yellow. When he spotted her down the hall in that one, he was blitzed by the thought that she looked like a sexy ray of sunshine. Furious at himself, he blundered into the men's room, stared at himself in the mirror with incredulity and took a piss when he'd rather have whacked his head against the wall.

Day three of her tenure, he almost walked into her as he was heading out midafternoon. Today she wore linen slacks and a thin sweater set the color of the ocean off Belize. He nodded; she offered a single, distracted smile and returned to conversation with her assistant director.

His mood darker, Noah stalked the several blocks to the public safety building for a meeting with Alec Raynor. As he was ready to go into the building, Cait's brother happened to be coming out.

McAllister stopped, his eyes narrowed on Noah.

Since the one hostile scene back in March when Noah had admitted he had chosen not to hire McAllister for the head job, they had managed to hold semicivilized conversations; they had to, once McAllister made the decision to stay on as acting police chief and then captain of investigative services. Enmity was never far below the surface, though.

Today, McAllister stepped aside rather than continuing on his way.

Seeing no choice, Noah did likewise. If he were prone to regrets, he'd be sorry about the tension between them. But he did what he thought was best, and he didn't allow himself second thoughts.

“Before the rumors hit,” McAllister said tersely, “I thought I'd tell you I'm running for county sheriff.”

Noah digested the announcement. The current sheriff was on a par with Mayor Linarelli, as far as Noah was concerned. In other words, lazy and very possibly crooked. “Interesting,” he mused. “Are you asking for my support?”

McAllister snorted. “That did not cross my mind.”

“It should have.” Noah was given to making decisions fast—as he'd done where his police captain's sister was concerned. “You have it,” he said.

The other man stared at him. “Why?” he finally asked.

“We both know you're good at your job. I think you have what it takes to clean up the sheriff's department.”

“Just not Angel Butte P.D.”

“You know why I didn't want to take a chance.”

McAllister gave a half laugh, shaking his head. “Do you have any idea how badly I want to tell you where to shove your support?”

An involuntary grin twitched at Noah's mouth. “I can guess.”

“Unfortunately, I'm too ambitious to actually do that.”

Noah thrust his hands in the pockets of his slacks. He waited while a cluster of women came out of the building, their heads turning at the sight of the mayor talking to Captain McAllister. To his credit, the guy had kept his animosity quiet, but there had to be talk anyway.

When they were out of earshot, Noah asked, “You and Raynor getting along okay?”

His expression veiled, McAllister shrugged. “Why wouldn't we?”

Noah nodded, even though that was no answer. “Let me know when you want a statement from me.” He pushed his way inside and continued up to Alec Raynor's office.

The new chief's PA waved him in. “He's expecting you.”

In fact, the door stood partially open. Talking on his phone, Raynor half sat on his desk, a foot braced on the floor. He glanced at Noah and lifted one finger. Noah nodded and wandered over to study a new painting on the wall.

It was disturbing, he decided, not the usual government-office pretty. Even he had gone for pretty in decorating his own office, figuring his role was to be a booster for the city and area in general. He'd bought local artists and photographers. This—he couldn't imagine a local had done it.

From a distance he'd seen that it was some kind of street melee. Closer up, components broke into shards and you didn't see the overall scene. Faces stood out, though they were far from realistic. No matter how simply these faces were constructed, though, anger and despair jumped out.

“The artist is a friend of mine,” Raynor said behind him.

“I was thinking that most of us go for decorative.”

Raynor's laugh sounded like rusted gears grinding. A little like Noah's own, he reflected. They had that in common.

Not looks, though. His new police chief was whipcord-lean and not much above average height. Five foot ten, maybe. He had dark hair and eyes as dark a brown as Noah had ever seen. By this time of day, he already needed a shave. During the interview in February, Noah had thought he looked Italian. Now, with the Southern California tan fading, the effect was diminished. Unless the guy took up skiing this coming year, he was going to turn pasty white like the rest of them who didn't have the time or inclination for winter sports.

Raynor circled his desk and sank down in the big black leather chair. He looked weary. “I fired two officers today,” he said bluntly. “A sergeant on the patrol side and a detective who was one of our representatives to CODE.” CODE was the coalition of police agencies, including the DEA and FBI, that fought drug trafficking.

“Damn.” Noah lowered himself into a chair facing the desk. He'd known this was coming but hated to have his assumptions confirmed anyway. “Tip-offs to drug dealers?”

“That's what it looks like. No question they took bribes. Maybe even offered guard service. Hard to be sure. We're still working on who the money came from.” His eyes met Noah's. “We've traced one payment for sure to the same source that paid off Bystrom.”

Gary Bystrom was the former police chief whose corruption had been uncovered almost by accident in McAllister's investigation of a murder that had taken place in the city park the same night his now-wife, Maddie Dubeau, had been abducted when she was a teenager. Found along with the boy's bones was a backpack that contained, among other things, a snapshot of the police chief shaking hands with a known drug dealer and a bank deposit slip for a hefty sum into his account. The Drug Enforcement Agency had mostly taken over digging into the source of those bribes, a real challenge. Raynor was stubbornly refusing to let go entirely of the investigation, with the result that the DEA agent in charge was kindly deigning to keep them informed. Noah and, he suspected, Colin McAllister in particular were getting damn frustrated by the snail's pace of inquiries that left Bystrom free as a bird. Probably putting away his winter clothes right now and getting out his fly-fishing gear. The only consolation Noah could find was that, at the very least, the feds had him for tax evasion.

What they'd known all along was that he had to be getting tip-offs from officers in the department about police raids. McAllister had found the first two; these were the next to fall.

“It's still only the beginning, I suspect.”

Noah grunted. He wanted to see some trials and prison cell doors clanging shut.

The dark eyes were direct. “You know most of the work on this was done by McAllister.”

“You're asking why he isn't sitting in your chair?” Noah rolled his shoulders and then told him.

“I think you misjudged him.” Raynor's smile was razor-sharp and came and went swiftly. “To my benefit, of course.”

“Is it? I still don't know why you wanted this job.”

Still eyeing him, his police chief ran a hand over his darkly shadowed jaw, maybe to give himself a moment. “I was looking for a peaceful town. Not for me.” He hesitated. “My brother was special forces, killed in Afghanistan. I've been stepping in to help his widow with their kids. The boy's thirteen, gotten to a rebellious stage. L.A. wasn't the place for him.”

“I didn't know you'd brought family with you.”

“They're not here yet. Took a while for Julia to sell her house.” He shrugged. “Now she's waiting out the rest of the school year. They're moving up here as soon as the kids are out the end of June.”

Noah was unexpectedly relieved to have the answer to the questions he'd asked himself. It was even one he could understand, although this was a big change of direction for a man to make for his sister-in-law and her kids.

“Are we as peaceful as you thought we'd be?” he asked.

Raynor gave a bark of laughter. “Sure. There's only been one murder since I arrived, you know.” That had been a domestic. “Now, honesty, that's another story.”

Noah laughed. “Okay,” he said, pushing himself to his feet. “Keep me informed.”

Raynor stood, too, presumably from courtesy. “Will do.”

Noah left, thinking that the past hour had been exceptionally informative. Now all he asked was that he make it back to his office without so much as another glimpse of his new director of community development.

* * *

C
OLIN
SET
ASIDE
the newspaper when he saw Cait come out of the guest bedroom. “You going out this evening?” he asked with deceptive casualness.

“City council meeting,” Cait reminded him.

“Oh, right.”

She grinned at his tone. “Isn't there such a thing as a county council?”

“Don't remind me.”

She gave him a saucy look. “You could come keep me company.”

“A fate worse than death.”

Chuckling, she twirled in a circle, arms outstretched. “Do I look all right? I want to dazzle 'em.” She didn't mention who in particular she wanted to dazzle. The suit was one of her favorites, a deep rose she'd worn over a yellow shell. These were about her highest heels, too, saved for occasions like this when she wouldn't be on her feet for eight hours.

Her brother did relax enough to smile. “Can't fail,” he assured her.

“Good. Don't wait up, I don't know how late I'll be.”

He frowned, rose to his feet and followed her to the door. “Why don't you park right by the front porch when you get in instead of off to the side of the garage?”

“You let Nell park in the garage even though she has to scamper all the way across the yard when
she
gets in at night.” This was one of those evenings when Nell was working at the library in Sunriver until nine, which meant she didn't get home until close to ten. Cait knew her brother didn't like these evenings but had resigned himself.

“I listen for her,” he said simply.

Cait sighed. She liked his protective streak. She did. She just wasn't sure she could live with it. Maybe cops were always like that with their own families, given what they saw on the job. She admired how patient Nell was with him, although, come to think of it, in her case it was only a few months ago that someone
had
tried to kill her.

Cait had a flash of memory: Blake smashing his booted foot into the fenders and doors of her small car, the screech of metal giving. His last, quiet words before he melted into the night.

I will
never
accept that you're not mine.

She was careful to hide her shiver from Colin. She should hope he decided to wait up for her, too, so she didn't have to be afraid when she let herself into the dark house tonight.

She hadn't been in Angel Butte that long. How would Blake find out where she'd gone?

But she didn't kid herself. Short of assuming a new identity, disappearing wasn't possible in the modern world. Within the next few days, the city website would be updated with her name and bio. Blake might not even have had to wait for that. He'd met Colin; he knew where he lived.

He could show up anytime.

So, for now, she would be grateful for her brother's watchful eye, Cait promised herself. She kissed his cheek and said, “I'll park so close to the front steps you won't be able to squeeze by in the morning yourself,” and hurried out the door to the sound of his chuckle.