Work dragged. Lou tried very hard not to look at each customer as a potential threat, but it was difficult. Plastering on a fake smile, she attempted to keep her suspicious glares to a minimum.
During the mid-afternoon slump, she was cleaning the bathroom when the sleigh bells on the door jangled.
“Be with you in a moment,” she called as she stripped off her rubber gloves and washed her hands. Lifting the hinged portion of the counter, she slipped through to find a deputy waiting. He looked familiar, with a compact frame, reddish-blond hair, and a cropped mustache. She couldn’t remember where she’d met him until she read his nametag.
“Deputy Lawrence,” she greeted him.
Although his nod was a little stiff, he looked pleased to be recognized. Lou wondered if he’d forgotten that he wore his name pinned to his coat. “And you’re…?”
“Lou,” she finished when he paused. “Lou Sparks. Dive team. We met in passing the other day at the…um, reservoir.” She’d discussed the event so much with Callum that she didn’t know how to politely refer to finding HDG when talking to others.
“Right. You were the one who discovered the body.” His face screwed up in a grimace. “That’s created a lot of work for us.”
She blinked, unsure how to respond to the hint of accusation in his tone. “Um…sorry to hear that. Would you like something to drink?”
“Yeah, a large mocha with whipped, please.” His gaze dropped to her chest. “So…you’re on the dive team.”
“Yes.”
“As what? The mascot?”
She choked and almost spilled the steaming milk. “Uh, no. As an actual, real-life diver.”
“Seriously?” His tone told her how very much he disapproved of that.
“Seriously.” Deputy Jackass, she added in her head.
Although she was pretty sure Deputy Lawrence was not going to be one of her favorite people, she kept a pleasant expression on her face as she prepared his drink. “How’s that investigation going?” she couldn’t resist asking as she topped his mocha with whipped cream.
“I can’t talk about the case to civilians,” he said stiffly.
“Of course,” she said, ringing up his order with a mental shrug. So much for sharing information among the search-and-rescue family.
“Although,” he said slowly as he pulled out his wallet, “there have been some interesting developments.”
“Like what?” She accepted his cash and handed back his change. None of the money made it into her tip jar.
After pocketing his wallet, Lawrence leaned closer, resting his elbows on the counter. “There’s a possible connection with a motorcycle gang.”
“Really? The club in Liverton?” Despite the deputy’s rather slimy manner, she couldn’t resist the lure of new information.
“Club,” he repeated with a slight sneer. “They can call themselves whatever they want, but it won’t change what they are—a law-breaking gang of thugs.”
“Um…okay. So, what’s the connection?”
He leaned even closer, and Lou had to resist taking a step away from him. She wasn’t sure why he had to be so close. It wasn’t like there were any other customers in the shop who could possibly overhear. “There was an item caught on the weight holding down the body. It has the gang’s symbol on it.”
“Really?” She was quiet for a few seconds as she processed this. “That seems sloppy of them.”
“We think it might be a signature. You know, the killer wants everyone to know not to mess with the club.”
“Gang, you mean?”
“Yes, of course.” He eyed her suspiciously but didn’t seem to notice the sarcasm, because he continued, “This information needs to be kept confidential, since those Hells Angels wannabes have their guys planted everywhere, even in the county emergency services.”
That confused her for a few seconds until realization hit her. “You mean Ian Walsh?”
His mouth twisted like he’d tasted something sour. “Fire should’ve never let one of them join. His loyalty is always going to be to his gang of criminals.”
“Why can’t he be loyal to both?” Lou asked with true curiosity. “From what I’ve heard, Ian’s a good firefighter.”
Lawrence drew back, his lips pulled into so tight a line that they pretty much disappeared. “You can’t play both sides of the law.”
“But—”
“Excuse me.” He pushed away from the counter abruptly. “I have to go. We’re really busy with this murder case.”
“Okay,” she said to his back as he hurried to the exit. “Thanks for coming.”
He paused by the door. “What time do you get off?”
“Uh,” she said, trying to think of a way to deflect. “By the time I get done cleaning and closing, it’s pretty late.”
“I don’t mind late. How about I give you a”—his grin was so slimy that it made her want to smack him—“police escort home?”
Swallowing the urge to gag, Lou forced a polite smile. “Thanks, but Callum already offered. Some other time, maybe?”
His lips tightened again underneath his mustache. “Sure.” The palm of his hand smacked against the door as he plowed through it.
“Bye!” she called after him, but the only response was the flat jangle of the sleigh bells as the door closed behind the deputy.
She took a step toward the bathroom to continue cleaning and then stopped, pulling her cell phone out of her pocket. Before she could talk herself out of it, she pulled up her contacts list and tapped on Callum’s name.
“Sparks,” he answered after a single ring. “Everything okay?”
She could hear voices in the background. “Sorry, are you busy?”
“No, hang on.” There was some muffled talking and then silence. Several seconds later, he spoke again. “I’m glad you called when you did. That meeting with the regulator reps was over a half hour ago, but they wouldn’t leave.”
“No problem.” She grinned. “I’m shocked you didn’t just kick them out.”
“I try to be diplomatic.”
“You do? Since when?”
“Why did you call?” She could tell he was trying to sound irritated, but amusement leaked through into his voice.
“Deputy Lawrence paid me a visit,” she said. “He made a big deal about not being able to give me any information about the HDG case, and then proceeded to tell me there was something with the Liverton MC’s logo on it attached to the weight holding down the body.”
“Hmm.”
“That’s what I thought. Lawrence had a theory that the murderer intentionally left this item so no one would risk messing with the MC, but it doesn’t seem to fit. Lawrence really wants the killer to be in the MC, though, since he has his hate on for Ian Walsh.”
“You caught that?”
“Hard not to.” Although he couldn’t see her, she rolled her eyes. “He came right out and said Ian shouldn’t be a firefighter since he’s also in a, and I quote, ‘gang of criminals.’ How do Rob and Chris stand working with this guy?”
“I don’t know,” Callum said. “But ever since the bison-versus-squad-car incident, Lawrence has had it out for Walsh. I think it’s a combination of embarrassment and the fact that Ian makes me look tactful in comparison.”
She snorted. “I almost feel bad for Lawrence, except that spending time with him just wiped away any possibility of sympathy for the man.”
After a grunt of agreement, Callum abruptly changed the subject. “Did you get your report done on the incident last night?”
“Almost.” Finishing the report was next on her list after the bathroom was cleaned. “Give me a half hour unless I get an unexpected rush of customers, and I’ll email it to you.”
“You there alone?” he asked sharply.
Lou made a face. She’d been hoping to delay this conversation. “Right at this moment?”
He didn’t respond to her evasion but just waited until she spoke again.
“I’ll talk to Ivy.” She sighed. “She was just in such a cranky mood when she was in here earlier, so I didn’t want to ask her to put another person on this shift to close with me.”
“When will you talk to Ivy?”
“Soon.” At his silence, she sighed again. “Tomorrow.”
“Fine. See you tonight.”
“About that…” she started, but then realized he’d already ended the call. With a shrug, she pocketed her phone and headed for the bathroom to finish her cleaning. She’d worry about their ever-increasing intimacy—and how much she was starting to like it—later.
After pulling on her rubber gloves, she started scrubbing the sink, humming a little in an effort to distract herself from thinking about Callum. She turned on the hot-water tap and heard the clang of sleigh bells.
“Frick,” she muttered, stripping off her gloves again. The bathroom was never going to get cleaned. She washed her hands and left the restroom.
“Sorry for the wait.” She forced a cheery note into her voice as she headed for the front desk. “What can I get…” Confused, she looked around the shop. No one was there. Frowning, she looked out the window, but the parking lot and street were empty. In fact, there were no people in sight, at all. She’d sworn she’d heard the bells, but she must’ve imagined it.
“All of this stalker stuff is driving me crazy.” After a final puzzled glance around the empty shop, she returned to the bathroom.
* * *
Callum showed up a half hour before closing.
“You know,” she said, reaching for his travel mug, “your phone etiquette could use some work.”
Arching an eyebrow, he relinquished his cup. “Decaf, please, or I won’t sleep.”
“Normally,” she continued, filling his mug, “one says ‘good-bye’ before ending a call.”
“Not if one is irritated that his…ah, the other one will be alone at work again, after repeatedly being asked to have someone there with her.” He accepted his coffee. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She changed topics. “Any thoughts about the whole thing I mentioned earlier? Before you hung up on me?”
“I didn’t ‘hang up’ on you. ‘See you later’ is an acceptable way of ending a call.” He took a sip of coffee and shot a glance at a couple sitting at a corner table, who were trying to act as if they weren’t avidly listening to his and Lou’s conversation. “And yes. We’ll discuss that when we get home.”
“Which home?” She started taking the pastries out of the case in her usual preclosing ritual.
“Either works for me.” Eyeing her over the top of his mug, he continued, “Just thought you preferred to stay at yours.”
“I do. At least, I did.” Grabbing a plate, she plunked a cranberry white chocolate scone onto it and set it in front of Callum. “Eat this. It’s going to be another forty-five minutes before we get out of here. Wait.” She snatched the plate back as he reached for it and popped the scone in the microwave. At the gentle ding, she pulled the scone out and put the plate in front of Callum again. “Now eat it. It’s better warm. Thinking about having some crazy dude wandering around my house while we sleep is creeping me out. I’m not sure whether it’s better to be there or not while he’s doing his stalker thing. And that just makes me mad, since my cabin’s been my sanctuary since I ran away from Connecticut.”
He took a bite, chewed, swallowed, and took a sip of coffee before speaking. “Ran away?”
Going back to relocating the pastries, mainly so she’d have something to focus on besides Callum, she shrugged. “My parents were a little controlling, and I was a lot passive. They picked where I went to school, what courses I took, who I dated, which law school I attended…”
He choked a little on a bite of scone, so she leaned over the counter and smacked him on his back. Clearing his throat, he repeated, “Law school?”
“Yes.” Lou made a face. “It was so boring. I don’t know how I made it through, much less passed the bar exam.”
“Bar exam?”
She cocked her head to the side and studied him. “You okay? You’re repeating everything I say. It’s not like you.”
“I’m just surprised. I didn’t expect… You are not very lawyer-like.”
“I’m not. I hated it—law school, the firms where I interviewed, everything about it. But I’d just floated along, doing what my parents said, until I was twenty-six.” Making a face, she studied a crumb that had fallen onto the counter. “Pathetic, huh?”
“No.” At his answer, she looked up and caught his gaze. He didn’t look judgmental—more…thoughtful. “A lot of people do what others expect of them, even if they hate it. At least you realized you wanted out and made it happen. Why move here, though?”
She laughed, feeling lighter at his easy acceptance. “I knew they would never follow me here, or even visit for too long. It was Simpson or Alaska, and I didn’t think I could stand the twenty-three hour nights, so here I am.”
“You’re rather remarkable.”
A blush worked its way up her neck. “Thanks, but I’m really not.”
“You are. Staying alone in your cabin, working here, joining the dive team… You’re surviving and helping others in a place most people can’t imagine living.”
Clearing her throat, Lou glanced at the couple who had given up all pretense of not listening. “Hey, guys, we’re closing in a couple of minutes. Can I get you anything else for the road?”
“No, thanks,” the woman said, tossing her long dreadlocks over her shoulder. “And way to find your own soul’s path.”
“Yeah,” the guy agreed, standing up and gathering their empty cups. He had matching dreadlocks, although his were slightly shorter. “That’s awesome.”
“Thanks.” Slightly bemused, she watched them leave, the sleigh bells bouncing merrily against the door as it closed behind them.
“So my house, then?” Callum’s words brought her attention back to him.
“Yeah. Maybe we could alternate—one night at your house and then one at mine?” He nodded, and she gathered the pan of dirty dishes and carried it into the back. “It’s a plan, then. I’m going to stop by my place tonight and then first thing tomorrow to feed the woodstove.” As she returned to the front, she grinned at Callum. “There is one good thing about this.”
“What’s that?”
“I get another crack at that whiteboard of yours.”
* * *
Dressed in flannel pajamas—this pair light blue with lavender fish printed on them—and thick, fuzzy socks that did not match each other in any way, Lou stood in front of the whiteboard, brown marker in hand. After leaving the coffee shop, she and Callum had stopped by Lou’s cabin to feed the woodstove and pick up her overnight bag before heading to his house. He’d made dinner—a very tasty stew. Who knew that Callum was a genius with the Crock-Pot?
“How do we want to do this?” she asked. “Should I give the MC their own section?” She touched the tip of the marker to the board but then hesitated, looking at Callum over her shoulder. “What’s their name—the MC, I mean?”
“Liverton Riders,” he said.
As she scribbled it on the board, she made a face. “The groups around here really need a course in creative naming,” she muttered. She underlined the club’s name and then added the new information. Underneath that, she scribbled Ian Walsh’s name and stepped back to read over what she’d written.
“Lawrence mentioned that the evidence was found on the weight,” she said thoughtfully. “Did you or Wilt notice it when you pulled it out of the water?”
Stepping up next to her, Callum frowned. “No, which is strange. Not that we’re infallible, especially in that murky reservoir where visibility is shit, but we’re pretty thorough. Wilt’s a perfectionist, so he’s going to hate that we didn’t catch it.”
“Wilt’s a perfectionist?” she murmured, grinning when he shot her a look before returning his attention to the board.
“I’d like to know exactly what that piece of evidence is,” he said.
Lou nodded. “Do you think we could talk to Ian now? He might have an idea what it is. Plus, I’d kind of like to give him a heads-up about this—do you think that’s wrong? Would I be aiding and abetting?”
When Callum just grunted, staring at the whiteboard, she turned to face him.
“Was that a ‘yes’ grunt or a ‘no’ grunt?”
“That was a ‘let’s keep our mouths closed for the time being’ grunt.”
Her grunt was unhappy.
“If the MC did kill HDG,” Callum said with more patience than condescension, “do you want to be the one who screws up the investigation?”
“No,” she agreed reluctantly. “I just don’t want to screw over Ian. He doesn’t seem like a killer.”
“No, but one of his MC brothers might be.”
She shot him a glare.
“What?”
“I hate it when you out-logic me.”
He grinned. “You’re tired. Why don’t you go to bed? The whiteboard will still be here in the morning.”
Her stomach dropped with nerves. “Um…so where am I sleeping? I mean, the couch is just fine. It’s a lot more comfortable than my couch, so I could easily sleep here if that’s where you want to put me. Or anywhere is okay, actually—”
“Lou.” He cut off her babbling. “Upstairs.”
Relieved that he’d just made the decision without any awkward conversation—not including her nervous monologue—she headed for the spiral stairs. The loft covered half of the lower level, looking over his living room. Except for a walk-in closet on one side and a bathroom on the other, the bedroom took up the entire space.
“My bed is even bigger than yours,” Callum murmured close to her ear, making her jump. She hadn’t realized he’d followed her up the stairs.
“Um… I can see that.” Flustered, she hurried into the bathroom, more because she wanted to hide than because she actually needed to use the facilities. After completing her nightly bathroom routine, though, she felt calmer, ready to face Callum and his very large bed.
He wasn’t upstairs, which made it easier. She crawled under the covers, turning from one side to the other, unable to settle. It had been easier the night before, when pure exhaustion had won over awkwardness. Forcing herself to lie still on her left side, she closed her eyes.
Her brain was whirring so loudly that she missed Callum’s reentry. When the bed sank on one side, her eyes snapped open, and she flew to a seated position, staring at Callum, who was sitting on the edge of the bed in just a pair of shorts. Her gaze landed on his pecs, and she was incapable of yanking her eyes away. God, he’s gorgeous, she thought, stomach tightening. Even seeing him as often as she had recently, sometimes his physical perfection just knocked the breath out of her.
“Sorry,” she said, settling back with a false air of calmness when she finally forced herself to look at his face. “I didn’t hear you come in, so you just startled me a little.”
He smirked, so she was pretty sure he saw through her facade of nonchalance. Raising his arms over his head, Callum stretched. Lou’s eyes bulged when she saw the play of muscles in his back. The man seriously deserved his own calendar. As he twisted around to slide under the covers, she snapped her eyes closed and then turned on her side again, facing away from him. Spending time—especially seminaked time—with Callum was a bad, bad idea. Before, she could only imagine what his muscles looked like shifting under his skin. She hadn’t even known until recently that he had dimples. Now, these details had implanted themselves into her daydreams, turning a simple crush into something so much more.
“’Night, Lou.”
“’Night.”
It took a long time for her to fall asleep, her body thrumming from Callum’s proximity and her mind churning with thoughts of waterlogged bodies and faceless stalkers. But his steady breathing filled the room, allowing her muscles to finally relax.
Callum was there, so she was safe.
* * *
All the time. He paced a path between the trees, snow crunching beneath his boots. She was with the asshole all the fucking time! His fingers tightened around the diver’s knife, pressing an imprint of the handle into his palm. He needed to get her alone, and then he could show her exactly how he felt about faithless whores.
The wind picked up a notch, and he tipped his head back, wanting to shout at it to shut up. The need for silence was grinding on his nerves. He shouldn’t be the one skulking in the trees, freezing. He should be in her cabin, in her bed, and the guy she was screwing shouldn’t exist at all.
He smiled bitterly. He could take care of that.
In a lull between gusts, a silence fell. His head turned as he eyed the surrounding trees. It was too quiet now. There was a rustle of dead vegetation, and he eased closer to a pine tree, his gaze searching for the source of the sound. Nothing moved, nothing even breathed, but he knew someone was there. Someone was always there.
With a final frustrated glance at her cabin, he melted into the shadows.