The Highlander Next Door (14 page)

“He couldn’t have accomplished all the work I’ve seen here in only a couple of days,” Niall said, undecided if he was amazed or frightened by Logan’s trusting nature.

“Naw, I did most of it over the two weeks since you been here, because . . .” His cheeks darkened as he set the hive frame back on the workbench. “Since I didn’t have nothing else to do.” He turned to Niall and grinned again. “Silas said that if I got some shingles he’d redo my roof, which he just started yesterday. And he dug the posthole for the mailbox and rigged up a pretty neat box grader we filled with rocks that I can haul behind my pickup to grade the driveway. And the man cooks a mean steak on a barbecue grill, so I figure for what it was costing me to eat at the Moose, I can feed the both of us. That means I’m getting work done for practically free.”

Niall walked out into the yard and looked around. “Where’s Mr. French now?”

“I don’t rightly know at the moment. He’s got a habit of suddenly stopping what he’s doing and going for a walk in the woods. He says it clears his mind and feeds his soul. Chief MacKeage,” Logan said, moving around to face him, “I know you might think I’m crazy to take in a complete stranger, what with all the weirdos and serial killers running around these days, but Silas ain’t like that. Within ten minutes of talking to the man, I realized he’s just a free spirit. He’s educated, too, and knows all sorts of stuff about nature. And he’s not only good with tools, he’s good at building them—like the grader we made for my driveway. And he understands business, especially what he calls cottage industries, that one person or a family can do to earn their living.”

He grinned again, waving at the shed. “Like the bees. I can earn money from beekeeping almost right up until the day I die, because Silas explained it’s more about keeping a close eye on things than a lot of hard physical labor. He said when I taste that first spoonful of honey out of my
own
hive, I’m gonna think there ain’t nothing sweeter on earth.”

He stepped closer, his cheeks darkening again. “And Silas said selling honey and beeswax and building and shipping out hive kits was a perfect business for a husband and wife to do together, so I’m getting everything all set up so I can surprise Noreen. She uses honey in a lot of her baking.”

Niall looked around at all the work Logan had been doing to his homestead in the last two weeks and realized that except for the roof, it was all mostly aesthetic—a lot of little things that would give a woman pleasure to look at and have pride in when family and neighbors came calling.

Things that would make a wife want to come home.

“Have you seen Noreen?” Logan asked, as if reading Niall’s thoughts. “You live right next door to that shelter she’s staying at, don’t you?”

“Aye. And I do see her just about every day, but only in passing.”

“How’s she
seem
, then? I mean, does she look to you like she’s eating good and getting plenty of sleep and all? Norrie gets to working so hard sometimes that she forgets to eat, even when she’s up to her elbows in food. And then she gets herself overtired and has trouble falling asleep at night. Oh, Lord, where’s my manners?” he said, suddenly stiffening. “Norrie would take a strip out of my hide for not inviting you in for a cup of coffee.”

Niall started to say he needed to be going, but decided to stick around and see if Silas French didn’t return from his walk soon, as he’d like to meet the man. He just hoped Logan could at least run a coffeemaker. “Thank ye, I’d love a cup,” he said, going to his truck and grabbing the box of cinnamon buns. “And since ye didn’t come in town this morning, I thought I might bring the Drunken Moose to you.”

It was early afternoon before Niall made it back to Spellbound Falls, never having made it to Turtleback because he’d spent the morning at the Kent homestead waiting for Silas French to return—which he never did. Niall strode down the lane, deciding to check out the company Logan was going to buy his beekeeping equipment from. He now had a picture in his phone of the catalog’s back cover Logan had brought out to show him the honey extractor and protective clothing he intended to order this week.

Alarmed to see his station door open when he reached the bottom of the lane, Niall scaled the stairs and strode inside to find two men holding one of the desks several feet off the floor. “Oh, Niall!” Hazel Callahan said in surprise, abandoning her project to rush over to him. “I thought you were spending the day in Turtleback Station.”

Niall glanced briefly at the men still holding the desk, noting their expressions had gone from resigned to guarded upon hearing his name, then looked down at the excited woman in front of him. “What are ye doing here, Hazel?”

She also glanced at the men, then took hold of his arm and led him out onto the porch. “I talked Sam into unlocking the station so I could start . . . ah . . . well, I’m getting your office organized,” she whispered to his chest, her cheeks flushing as she finally looked up with a sheepish smile. “When Birch and I ran into Peg at the bake sale this morning, she mentioned you needed a secretary, so I decided . . . I thought you might . . .” Hazel threw back her shoulders on a deep breath. “I want the job.”

“I don’t have a secretary’s salary in my budget yet.”

Her smiled turned brilliant. “That’s perfect, because I don’t want to be paid.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t need a salary.” She clasped the front of his jacket and leaned closer, actually standing on her tiptoes. “I already have more money than I know what to do with, Niall. Only you can’t tell Birch I told you, okay?” She dropped to her heels and went back to smiling. “What I don’t have is a reason to get out of bed every morning.”

“Have you discussed this with Birch?”

Hazel nodded. “On our walk home from the bake sale.”

“And she agreed?” Niall asked, putting just enough edge in his voice to let her know he was expecting a truthful answer.

Hazel nodded even more emphatically. “Birch understands how important it is for me to feel needed.” A twinkle came into her eyes. “Especially after I pointed out that she can’t just drag me off to the middle of nowhere, then expect me to sit at the shelter reading romance novels all day.” She turned serious. “You don’t have to worry that I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve helped establish several large charitable organizations, so I’m quite skilled at running an office, dealing with people, and managing budgets.” The twinkle returned, making Niall realize he was gaping. “And if you don’t mind my bragging, I was the most sought-after fund-raiser in Montreal, which means I’m also very good at getting people to part with their money.” She took another deep breath and went back to staring at his chest. “Please let me be your secretary.”

“Done,” he whispered so he wouldn’t shout. “On the condition you deal with the town councils,” he added, taking hold of her arm and ushering her back inside before she changed her mind. “Assuming you’re the gentlemen Sam sent me,” he said to the men now leaning against the desk, their feet crossed at the ankles and their arms folded over their chests, “I’m Niall MacKeage, and I believe you’ve already met my secretary, Hazel Callahan.”

Both men said nothing; the dark-skinned gentleman appearing slightly bored and the blond-haired gentleman studying him with emotionless blue eyes—that is, until Shep came racing through the open door and the blond straightened to his feet.

“What the—Sam never said anything about a K-9 on the force. I don’t like dogs.”

“You’ll like Shep,” Niall said quietly.

The other man also straightened. “The dog’s name is Shep?”

Niall merely nodded.

“
My
name is Shep.”

“Then I suggest you change it.”

The man pointed at the K-9 in question, who was ignoring everyone in favor of letting Hazel admire his vest. “Why can’t you change
his
name?”

“Because I hired him first. So you might want to pick another name if ye don’t want me picking one for you.”

Jayme Sheppard went back to leaning against the desk with his arms folded in front of him again, his sharp brown eyes no longer appearing bored as he cracked a small grin. “I’ll answer to Jake.”

Niall looked at Cole. “I thank ye for your interest in the job, Mr. Wyatt. Hazel will write you a check for a plane ticket home.”

That put some emotion in those eyes. “You’re
firing
me? Just because I don’t like dogs?”

“Nay. I’m firing you because I don’t like men who don’t like dogs.” Niall crossed his own arms over his chest. “You want the job, I’ll give ye two days to decide if you can work with Shep—on the condition he’s willing to work with you.”

“You’re leaving the decision up to a
dog
? His brain is the size of a baseball.”

“Yet he appears smarter than you,” Jake muttered. “Get with the program, you moron, or
I’m
going to fire you.”

“Hazel,” Niall said, stepping in front of her. “I know it’s not part of your job and I promise not to make it a habit, but would ye mind going to the Drunken Moose and getting me a sandwich? I missed lunch.”

He almost laughed, she looked so disappointed. But apparently also astute, she gave him a wink and headed for the door. “Do you like ham?”

“Wait, let me give you some money.”

She waved away his offer without stopping. “Nonsense. I’ll just have Vanetta start us a tab and pay it once a month.”

“Shep, go with her,” Niall said, turning to the men, only to bite back a chuckle when Jake Sheppard stopped himself in mid-step. “So gentlemen, do ye need more time to gauge the size of my pecker or are ye ready to hear my rule of employment?”

“Don’t you mean rules, as in plural?” Cole asked.

Niall shook his head. “The rule is I’m the only one who may break the rules. You will do everything by the book, and if something isn’t in the book then you may not do it.”

Jake’s eyes widened. “
Everything?
Hell, man, if we had followed even half the stupid rules written by a bunch of government pencil pushers, we’d both have been planted six feet under a hundred times by now.”

“How about if we promise to play nice instead?” Cole offered. “Jake and I are intelligent men, seeing how we’re both still
alive
, and we actually like ordinary citizens.”

“It’s just bad guys we don’t like,” Jake interjected.

“And since they never follow the rules,” Cole added, “how in hell do you expect us to catch them if
we
have to? We swear we won’t shoot any innocent people.”

“Deal,” Niall said with a nod, turning away to hide his grin.

“Well, shit,” Cole muttered. “I think I just felt
my
pecker shrink.”

“What are we supposed to call you?” Jake asked.

“Niall will do,” he said, looking around the room. “Did either of ye happen to see what Hazel did with my box of paperwork and equipment?”

“She was setting an empty box on the porch when we showed up,” Cole said.

“We’re getting uniforms, right?” Jake asked.

Niall stopped opening drawers on the larger of the desks. “I like the casualness of jeans and a button-up shirt. We’re Spellbound and Turtleback’s first venture into having policemen, so I prefer we blend in so they’ll see us as one of them.”

“Maybe you didn’t notice,” Jake drawled, “but I don’t exactly look like a local. Hell, I’ve hardly even seen any black tourists around here.”

“All the more reason to dress like a local,” Niall pointed out.

“But I thought we’d be wearing uniforms,” Jake countered. “Crisp blues with a big leather belt loaded down with Mace and a Taser and handcuffs and extra bullets and stuff. Are you saying we aren’t even going to be issued hats?” He straightened away from the desk to glare at Cole. “The only reason I let you talk me into this gig was for the uniform.” He turned to Niall, his expression desperate. “I just spent eleven years
blending in
to every stinking hellhole on the planet, and now I want to
stand out
on the streets of good old America.”

Cole straightened with a snort. “No, you want a uniform to help you score some good old American tail.” He looked at Niall, his expression derisive. “Actually, I signed on for the same reason. And it’s not uncommon in small-town forces for the officers to wear uniforms and the chief to wear only a badge.”

Niall decided the interview was over. Based on what he’d spent half the night reading in the files Sam had given him—which he didn’t doubt had disclosed very little of their actual . . . skills—Jake Sheppard and Cole Wyatt were men he wanted on his side in a fight. And now that he had met them in person, he could see the three of them would be a good fit. No; the four of them, since Shep was also a good judge of character and hadn’t gone for either of their throats.

“Done,” Niall said with a nod. “Tell Hazel what ye want for uniforms.”

He went back to opening drawers but stopped when his cell phone rang, the tone telling him it was 911 dispatch. “MacKeage,” he said by way of answering, only to stiffen as the woman related the details of an automobile accident. “Where again, exactly?” he asked as he opened several more drawers and grabbed a portable two-way radio out of the last one. “And ye say the driver called it in herself and claims she’s not injured?” he continued, motioning for Jake and Cole to follow as he headed outside. “Is she still on the line with you? Tell her to sit tight, that help will be there in ten minutes. I’ll call you back on my truck radio.” He pocketed his cell phone on his way down the steps and handed the portable radio to Cole. “How did ye get here?”

“In my new pickup,” Jake said as they strode up the narrow lane. “Cole’s truck is being delivered tomorrow.”

“Then the two of you follow me.”

“What about Shep?” Cole asked. “You want me to go get him?”

“He’s on his way,” Niall said, reaching his truck where it was parked on the main road just as Shep came racing down the sidewalk. “There’s only one car involved, but it’s apparently gone into the river and is wedged up against the bridge. Rescue has been dispatched, but the closest full-time fire station is another thirty miles south of Turtleback, so it may take a while for them to get there.” He opened the door and let Shep jump up, then climbed in behind the wheel. “Since ye don’t have sirens and lights yet, try to keep right behind me.”

“I had the truck outfitted when I picked it up in Bangor,” Jake said, heading across the road to a bright blue, four-door pickup covered with enough chrome and emergency lights to blind the sun.

“We’ll keep up,” Cole said as he sprinted after his friend.

Niall hit his own siren and lights, checked for traffic and pulled a U-turn in front of the men, then keyed the mike on his radio. “MacKeage here. Are ye still in contact with the woman? You say she claims the car isn’t sinking?”

“She’s still on the line,” the dispatcher assured him. “She told me the car is tangled in a large tree that seems to be holding it up, and that the river’s current has her pinned against one of the bridge abutments.”

“And she’s all alone? No passengers?”

“Only her. She said her name is Birch Callahan. The car is a late-model red Lexus crossover with Quebec license plates, but she can’t remember the tag numbers because she bought it only a couple of months ago,” the dispatcher continued when Niall stopped asking questions in order to regulate his breathing.

Sweet Christ, it was Birch. “Can she climb onto the abutment?” he asked.

“Hang on,” the dispatcher said, which was followed by a silence that seemed to stretch on forever. “She claims a man told her to stay in the vehicle.”

“Someone’s there?”

Another silence, then, “Birch said she didn’t actually see anyone; she just heard a male voice tell her to stay in the car when she tried to crawl out.”

“I’m only two miles away now. Tell her to stay put.”

“Ten-four. Millinocket rescue and ambulance are en route, and Turtleback Station managed to gather together a crew of five and is sending their ladder truck.”

“I’ll be off the radio, but two new officers are with me; Cole Wyatt and Jake Sheppard. They’ll relay information to you. Stay on the line with Birch.”

“Roger that, MacKeage. Good luck.”

Niall dropped the mike on the console as he approached the bridge just as an empty logging truck crossed it coming toward him. Apparently unaware anything was amiss, the driver didn’t slow down until he saw the two pickups racing toward him with lights flashing and sirens blaring. Not that Niall saw any sign of an accident, either, until he spotted the churned gravel just before this end of the bridge. Hell, there were hardly any rubber marks on the road, indicating Birch hadn’t even slammed on the brakes until the last minute.

He hit his own brakes, stopping right in the middle of the lane, and jumped out. “Block off the other end of the bridge,” he told the men as they pulled up beside him. “But leave room for rescue to get through.”