Читать книгу Lawman's Perfect Surrender - Jennifer Morey - Страница 8

This was the second time Dillon Monroe had followed his dad to this old Victorian inn. The Stillwater used to be the home of a Cold Plains settler who had been driven out of town after Samuel Grayson arrived and started making changes. Why was his dad meeting with that freak and a bunch of knuckle-draggers?

Easing out from behind the thick trunk of a tree, Dillon made his way through a bed of immaculate landscaping that during the day was a palate of weed-free color. There was a lot of that in this town. He stepped up to the front doors and entered the foyer where an ornately trimmed registration desk gleamed beneath a crystal chandelier. A man was speaking to a woman standing there beside him and neither looked at Dillon. To his right, double French doors opened to a dimly lit bar. A woman sat there, a glass of water in front of her. She looked familiar. The owner of Cold Plains Coffee. What was she doing here all by herself? Drinking water in a bar. Weird.

“Good evening, sir.”

Turning to his left, he saw another pair of French doors that opened to a room full of candlelit tables covered in white linen underneath two more chandeliers. The brown-eyed hostess behind a wooden stand had just acknowledged him. Dressed in an elegant black dress and sparkling earrings with her dark hair smoothed back into an elegant bun, she fitted Samuel’s demands for perfection. She was probably about three years older than Dillon, which put her around twenty-one. He was pretty tall and she was almost to his nose in height. Good-looking, and he didn’t miss how she checked him out from his black hair and hazel eyes all the way down his lanky form before she asked, “Your name?”

You had to have reservations to come to a joint like this. He searched for Whack Job Hollywood among the late-evening diners. There weren’t many. It was going on ten. “I’m here to see Samuel Grayson.”

“Is he expecting you?”

“No. Is he here yet?”

After a few uncertain blinks, her gaze flitted into the foyer. Dillon turned and saw a narrow, open doorway leading down into the basement.

He faced the girl again. “Look, I don’t want to cause you any trouble. I just need to speak with him for a minute.” He didn’t, actually. He was here to find out why his dad was here.

The hostess didn’t respond, but glanced around as though checking to see if anyone had heard.

“Pretend I was never here.” Smiling at her, he walked out of the dining area. A wider stairway opposite the basement passage led to the upper-level rooms. The man and woman behind the fancy registration counter were still busy talking. The woman in the bar didn’t seem to see him.

Dillon reached the threshold of the stairs. Descending them, he entered what appeared to have once been the servants’ kitchen and now functioned as the hotel staff’s food-prep area for what had to be a small conference center. Heavy wooden double doors probably led to a meeting room. The doors were closed.

Moving closer, he heard muffled voices filtered through from the other side. He put his hand on the door handle and began to push.

“You there!”

Dillon jumped around to see a big burly man approaching him from the stairway. Tall and slick in a suit and tie, he looked as rich as all the other knuckle-draggers Dillon had seen with Grayson. Was his dad trying to become one of them?

“Are you lost?” he asked.

“I was looking for someone.” Dillon brushed past the man and climbed the stairs. Back in the foyer, he saw the woman who’d been in the bar standing there, and beyond her, the elaborately coiffed hostess watching nervously from behind her stand. He glanced back and saw the burly man enter the foyer. Time to go.

Outside, artificial light illuminated his way. Past the circular drive, he stepped onto the lawn and looked back to check how safe he was. The big man had stopped on the front porch, holding a radio to his mouth. Safe enough. He wasn’t going to follow.

Dillon jumped over a cluster of pansies, his feet crunching on mulch as he maneuvered through the wide and curving border. When darkness cloaked him, he stopped. The knuckle-dragger still stood on the front porch. Dillon moved behind the trunk of a pine tree and waited.

Rustling in some nearby shrubbery made him turn. There was someone there. He walked toward the sound and stopped when he saw a girl. She inhaled her alarm, taking a step back. He recognized her. She was new to town. She and her grandmother had just moved here. She had long, thick, dark brown hair and green eyes, but it was her hot body that had always caught his eye.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“What are you doing here?” she countered.

Had she recognized him? “Why are you hiding in the trees?”

Pursing her lips, she folded her arms and stuck out a trim hip. “Why are you?”

He chuckled and held out his hand. “I’m Dillon Monroe.”

After a brief hesitation, she shook his hand. “Hallie Taylor.”

“I know who you are. We go to the same school. Did you come here for dinner?” He knew she hadn’t but he played ignorant.

She frowned while she studied him. “You go to Cold Plains High?”

He nodded. She didn’t recognize him. “I’m a senior.” Or he would be in the fall.

“I’m going to be a junior.”

“I know.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. I noticed you at school last year. You’re new to town, right?”

“Yeah.”

There didn’t seem to be anything else to say, and they were standing in the landscaping like a couple of delinquents.

Finally, he glanced back at the inn. “Samuel Grayson is in there.”

She frowned again, this time from a different kind of curiosity. “Is that why you’re here? Did you have dinner with him?”

“No. My parents are friends with him. I can’t stand the man.”

She seemed to ease her tension, but there was an element of distrust that surrounded her. She did seem really quiet at school. She hung out with one girl and didn’t seem to have many other friends. Not popular, but she could be. She was pretty enough. She just wasn’t all that outgoing. He wondered if the reason she was here had anything to do with that.

Her gaze shifted and he looked toward the inn again. Samuel emerged with his goons, but someone else with him made Dillon take notice. Chief of Police Bo Fargo.

“I knew it!” Hallie said, moving beside him.

Dillon looked over at her. “I thought you came here for dinner.”

Her green eyes moved up to meet his confrontation. “I never said I came here for dinner.”

He grinned because she’d fallen right into his trap. If she hadn’t come for dinner, why was she here, hiding in the trees?

“I better get going.” She started walking toward the road on the other side of the trees that encompassed the inn.

“Hey, I don’t care why you were here. I came to spy on Grayson and I’m pretty sure you came to do the same.”

She didn’t stop or acknowledge him.

He could understand her fear. Her reason for being here had to stay secret. If the wrong person found out, she might catch Grayson’s attention.

They reached a bicycle lying on the ground and she picked it up.

Dillon touched her arm to stop her. “My truck is right up the street. I can drive you home.”

“I can ride my bike.”

Just then a silver BMW drove by with Grayson in the back. He saw them. The BMW passed without stopping and Dillon let his held breath out. That was close.

“Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

She didn’t argue as he took the bike from her and pushed it to his twenty-year-old blue-and-white Chevy truck. While he put it into the back, she looked up the street, chewing her bottom lip.

He opened the passenger door for her and she got inside. Walking around, he sat behind the wheel and started the engine. Hallie told him where she lived but fell into deep thought after he began driving.

“My dad hangs out with Samuel all the time,” Dillon put out there. It’d be great if she started talking. Maybe they could team up.

Her gaze moved for a tentative glance but she said nothing.

“That’s why I started watching him,” he continued as though he hadn’t noticed. “I followed him to the inn tonight. I think Samuel did something to change him. Not that my dad was all that great before. He’s always treated my mom like dirt. She hates going anywhere with him anymore, but he keeps making her. He likes going to the community center all the time. There’s something weird going on there.”

Hallie’s head turned a small degree, enough for her eyes to once again glance his way.

“My mom’s been drinking a lot. I’m starting to get really worried about her.”

“Is that why you’re following your dad?”

Finally. He’d gotten her to talk. “Yeah. She needs someone to watch over her. My dad’s not going to. He’s going to drag her into a garbage can.”

“That’s really sweet. That you’re watching over her.”

Sweet? He’d kick his dad’s behind if he ever hurt his mom again. “I saw a tattoo of D on his hip.”

“Really?”

“I don’t know if my mom has one, but I bet she does. He probably forced her to do it with him.” That made him so mad.

“Even if she didn’t want to?”

“She drinks way too much. It’s like she tries to blot out the fact that he’s turning into a whack job and taking her with him. Compliments of Grayson.” He didn’t even try to hide his disgust. He used to be close to his dad. Now his dad barely noticed when he came and went.

“What are you going to do?” Hallie asked.

Without even telling him, she’d revealed their common interest. They both despised Samuel Grayson.

“Keep following my dad. Maybe I’ll catch him or Grayson doing something wrong.”

“Are you blind? Bo Fargo was there.” Her emotion gave away the reason she’d gone to the inn. Bo Fargo.

He didn’t ask her why. She probably wouldn’t tell him anyway. “He’s one man in a whole police department.”

“The Chief of Police.”

“Not everyone supports Samuel Grayson.”

“Yeah, but who would that be?”

“Ford McCall wasn’t at the inn tonight. He doesn’t meet Grayson anywhere.”

After a moment, she asked, “You think he isn’t one of them?”

“He never goes to any of those seminars, and I never see him anywhere Grayson is unless the whole town is there.”

They reached the street where she lived. As he drove around the corner, flashing lights elicited a startled gasp from Hallie.

“My grandmother!”

After frantically running to every window and door to make sure they were all locked, Gemma didn’t think she’d ever been happier to see firemen and police officers. The five minutes it had taken for them to get here seemed like hours, each second spent frightened out of her mind that Jed would find a way inside Martha’s house. The firemen had already checked her out and the police had arrived to ask questions. She and Martha had just finished answering them. Gemma looked for Ford again—she’d done that several times. Where was he?

Gemma joined Martha on the sofa. The woman’s gravity-ravaged face and stunning light blue eyes were drawn with strain. She’d given the poor old woman quite a scare.

“I think you saved my life tonight, Martha.”

Martha’s smile eased the lines of tension. “I haven’t had this much excitement since my son went missing. My old ticker can’t take much more of that.” She patted her chest above her large and sagging breasts.

What she’d said about her son caught Gemma’s attention in a hurry. “Your son is missing?”

“Mmm-hmm. Since a few months ago.”

“Do you know what happened to him?”

With that, the old woman grew uncertain. “The police say they’re looking for him.”

It didn’t sound as though she believed that.

“They think he left of his own free will,” she added.

“But you don’t think so?”

What Gemma had thought was uncertainty became something else entirely. Distrust. Martha eyed Gemma with anxious hesitation.

Her discussion with Ford gave her a moment of uncertainty herself. Was there something going on in this town? Something that made Martha suspicious of her neighbors?

Someone burst through the door. Gemma looked up, expecting Ford. When she saw Martha’s granddaughter charging into the room, followed by a slightly older boy, she restrained her disappointment. There were plenty of policemen here. She didn’t need Ford.

“Grandma!” the girl yelled.

The boy entered the house and stopped just inside.

Using the armrest for support, Martha stood up from the sofa and the girl threw herself against her for a hug. “Oh, my God. Are you okay?”

“Great goats, Hallie, I’m fine. It was our neighbor who needed help.” She leaned back. “Gemma was attacked by her ex-husband again.”

The girl glanced down at Gemma and then began touching her grandmother all over as though having to feel for herself that she was all right. It was so moving. Gemma had never had anything like that growing up. She’d never felt that close to her mother.

“We drove up and there were all those lights.” Hallie’s eyes misted. “I was so scared.”

Martha gave her granddaughter a kiss on her cheek. “Oh, now, you see everything is all right.”

“I didn’t know, with all the trouble we’ve been—” She shot a look at Gemma. “I just didn’t know.”

What had the girl stopped herself from saying? Trouble with what? Martha’s son? Hallie had to be his daughter.

“Gemma!”

At the sound of the rich, deep voice so full of concern, Gemma looked up to see Ford striding toward her, maneuvering through firemen and police officers to reach her. The sight of him sent sparks of gladness chasing through her. She couldn’t explain why. Why was he different than the other officers? She didn’t care.

She stood as he neared.

Instead of taking her into his arms as she half-expected, he took her hands and surveyed her. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

He surveyed her all over again. “Are you sure?”

“I got away before he hurt me.” Again.

“Or killed you,” he shocked her by saying, reminding her that Jed had promised to take her home … or kill her if she refused. She shuddered.

Ford rubbed her arms. “I should have been there.”

He was concerned. Really concerned. More than a police officer should be. Absurdly, this was exactly what she craved. For him to be here, making her feel safe … and more.

Seeming aware of the intimacy at the same moment, he regained his composure. “What happened?”

She reiterated what she’d already told the other officers. “He got away.” And that was what bothered her most. When she’d been racing from window to window inside Martha’s house, the night had cloaked him. Where was he? When would he show up next? Where would she be? Was he waiting outside? She’d have to watch over her shoulder constantly. And locking her house wouldn’t be enough. What was she going to do?

She looked through the darkened window. In daytime she could see her house from here. Now she only saw her porch light. She didn’t want to go home. What if he was out there now? Watching the police. Waiting …

“Don’t worry, Gemma,” Ford said, bringing her gaze up to his gorgeous blue eyes. “I’ll find him.”

Movement at the front door made her turn with Ford. Bo Fargo entered. Big and tall, walking with an air of steamrolling intensity. He was older, in his fifties, with thinning brown hair. As he drew nearer, his bleary blue eyes drilled her with what she suspected was annoyance and forced concern.

“I heard what happened.” He came to a stop next to Ford and asked Gemma, “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” She was getting tired of being asked. “Fine.”

“You were lucky to get away from him.” No mincing of words there. He definitely was a man who demanded respect. But there was something darker there, too.

Averting her gaze, she spotted Hallie handing her grandmother a cup of hot tea. Then she noticed the firemen had gone, and the other officers were beginning to do the same. It left her empty and full of dread. Soon she’d have to face her house alone. The glass in her back door was broken.

“You can stay here for the night.”

Gemma turned to see Hallie.

“Right, Grandma?” Hallie asked Martha.

“Of course, dear.” Martha looked at Gemma. “We have plenty of room.”

“Thank you.” The two had no idea what that meant to her. Or maybe they did. But then the way Hallie watched Bo caught her suspicion. She all but glared at the man. The boy she’d entered the house with moved to her side, watching along with her. What was that all about?

“This is the second time Jed Johnson has gotten away, Ford,” Bo said. “I thought you were going to assign a patrol to Gemma’s house.”

Ford’s reaction was full of resentment. “I did.”

There hadn’t been enough time.

“Well, apparently it isn’t enough.”

“According to whom?”

Gemma did a double take at Ford’s retort. Clearly he wasn’t afraid of his boss.

The Chief of Police didn’t appear offended; challenged, maybe, but not offended or angry. He knew he was in charge. Or thought he was. “We can’t have this kind of crime happening here in Cold Plains. It ruins our stellar reputation. Our peace-loving culture. Something like this threatens the morale.” He turned to Gemma. “Isn’t that right?”

He was asking her? “W-well … I suppose so.” She didn’t like feeling afraid to go home. Her house was her sanctuary. Was her sanctuary. That had been stolen from her. By that worthless wife-beater of an ex-husband she so stupidly married in the first place!

Ooh … she was going to find something really frivolous to blow a sizable chunk of his money on.

Noticing Ford’s brooding presence, she wondered what made him dislike Bo.

“A patrol obviously isn’t enough,” Bo reiterated. “Samuel suggested that it might be a good idea if you stayed with Ms. Johnson until our perpetrator is captured. I happen to agree.”

Gemma covered her surprise and saw Ford doing the same.

“Samuel wants Ford to stay with me?” To protect her?

Bo smiled, cunning and sureness abounding. Indomitable cunning. “Yes, he does, Ms. Johnson. He was not at all happy to hear that you were attacked again. He cares a great deal about your well-being. He cares even more about the well-being of this town. He would care about any woman who’s been brutalized. He wants you to feel safe, and I intend to make sure that you do.”

While that sentiment eased a lot of her anxiety in a giant rush, she also hesitated. Samuel seemed to be going overboard for her. Or was Bo accurate when he said he cared about any woman who’d been brutalized? Yes. Samuel was out for the good of the town as a whole.

“Of course, it’s ultimately up to you, but I do agree with Samuel that it’s in your best interest to have an officer at your house when you’re there. You shouldn’t be alone until we capture Jed.”

“I …” She looked at Ford, whose hard eyes met hers.

“If not Ford, then someone else,” Bo looked at Ford expectantly.

“I’ll do it,” Ford snapped, and then softly to her, “But only if you agree.”

Torn, Gemma looked from Ford to Bo and then through the front window. Though her house was still well-lit, it may as well be in Amityville.

Slowly, she met Ford’s eyes again. “I would hate to impose on your time …”

“It would be no trouble.” Ford’s voice was calm and every bit as sure as Bo had been. “I’d rather not risk another attack, either.”

She smiled up at him and he looked at her mouth.

“Then it’s settled,” Bo interrupted. “You’ll stay with Gemma until Jed is caught.”

“Only if you’re sure,” Ford said, never moving his gaze from her.

“I have a guest room on the first level. You’ll be very comfortable.”

“Don’t worry about accommodating me, Ms. Johnson. I’ll just be doing my job.”

Protecting her. Making her feel safe. “Gemma.”

“Gemma,” he said in his deep voice.

A flutter of excitement warned her to be careful. So did the softening of his blue eyes. The blink that followed cleared it too soon and she felt him withdraw into the role of protector.

“You’ll be a lot more comfortable at Gemma’s house than that apartment you rent,” Bo said. “She’s fixed it up into a model of what we like to see here in town.”

“It did need a little work when I moved here.”

“It’s a beautiful place. Cold Plains wouldn’t be what it is without good people like you. Rest assured, we’ll keep Jed away from you from here on out.”

A surge of warm gratitude filled her even while she wondered why he and Samuel were being so kind to her. What was it about this town? Everyone seemed that way. It was almost too good to be true. But too good to be true was her medicine right now.

“I can’t tell you what that means to me,” she said. “I’m so happy to have found a place to live like this. It’s … it’s just … what home should be.”

Beside her, Ford eyed her askance and then turned his silent watchfulness back to Bo. The negative undercurrents couldn’t be missed, leaving Gemma wondering where they came from.

Late afternoon the next day, Gemma watched Ford close the front door after the handyman had finished replacing the window in her back patio door. Before she’d even thought to fix the window, Ford had arranged everything. Now he turned and looked at her. She’d been watching him all day, and he’d caught her many of those times. Starting with breakfast, through his many patrols of her house and yard. All afternoon while he oversaw the handyman and took calls for work. She’d tried to occupy herself with chores. Laundry. The kitchen. Reading. Always he was near, and she was drawn to him.

Staring at him from across the living room grew awkward. She turned away and headed for her back patio, loving her new window and the way it erased Jed’s presence. Outside, birds chirped and the sun lit up a clear blue sky. No wind rustled the leaves of her plum tree. Bees visited her wildflower garden. She moved over to the new fountain she’d purchased after the handyman left. It was big, elaborate and expensive, and water trickled over three tiers of beautifully carved stone. She could almost enjoy the pleasure of a simple, warm summer day.

She sat down on her one-of-a-kind, intricately and colorfully tiled patio table and put her feet up on the adjacent chair. Toying with the bracelet on her wrist, she looked down at the dangling sapphires and diamonds. Jed had bought the expensive piece for her. He’d even engraved her name in it. With love. She didn’t wear it because of that. She wore it for the constant reminder of what marrying a monster had done to her, a reminder of a mistake never to make again. She hadn’t kept anything else he’d given her, not that there was much. Falling for Ford as fast as she was couldn’t be a step in the right direction. She had to be careful. Take her time. Be decisive. Ford might seem like a good and honest man, a cop, but she needed time to heal from being with someone totally opposite. She couldn’t afford to be impulsive with men anymore.

A sound made her look over her shoulder toward the door.

Ford leaned against the doorjamb, eyes partially squinted against the sun in a western sky. He had his hands in the front pockets of his faded jeans and his ankles were crossed. The soft denim fitted him well, resting comfortably at his waist just beneath a flat stomach. And had any man looked sexier in an impeccably pressed, white long-sleeved shirt? The badge clipped over the left side of his muscular chest had to help with that.

Realizing she was really checking him out, she was about to turn away when she noticed him doing the same with her. Their eyes met. She averted hers first, too in danger of giving in to impulse.

“Fountain looks good.”

“Thanks.”

“Punishing your ex?”

She smiled, hearing his affectionate tone. “Yes.”

He chuckled. “Fourth of July is the day after tomorrow.”

Was all this small talk masking their brewing attraction? “Yeah. Town’s got a big celebration planned.” Elaborate. The streets would be lined with flowers and vendors selling food and souvenirs. A band was hired and a huge fireworks display would go off over the park. She’d heard about it all week. It would be the grandest fireworks display in the entire state of Wyoming.

Standing, she moved to the edge of the patio.

“I need you to stay close to me.”

She faced him, taking another sneak peek at him in those jeans. “Okay.” She’d have done that anyway.

Catching his gaze moving from her chest to her face, she felt as though the fireworks were starting early right here on her back patio. She checked for a wedding ring and didn’t see one. Why would a man who looked as good as him not be taken by now? Surely he had to at least have a girlfriend.

“How old are you?” she asked. He didn’t look much older than her.

A slight smile toyed with his mouth and then vanished as though he’d curtailed the enjoyment of her question and the possibility that she was interested in more than his protection. “Twenty-eight.”

Only three years older than her.

“Your girlfriend must not like you having to stay here,” she said, hoping she wasn’t being too obvious, a roundabout way of finding out if he was single. And why was she doing that anyway?

He pushed off the door frame and stepped onto the patio, walking in that macho way of his to the edge of the artfully placed stone. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Does your family live here?”

“I don’t have a family.”

The flat sound of his tone alerted her curiosity. “None?” Surely he had some kind of family.

He was standing so close to her she could smell his cologne. Nice. Subtle. Deep and just enough spice. But his short answers had her wondering. “What about your parents?”

Looking out into the yard, he didn’t respond. Whatever had happened to his parents was painful for him to talk about.

“Don’t you have anyone close?” How sad if he didn’t.

He turned back to her with much less angst. “Anna. She’s my … mother.”

Gemma didn’t know what to say. Anna was a mother figure to him and he’d obviously lost his real parents somehow.

“She won’t be able to stay away,” he said with a fond grin, surprising her. He didn’t have any trouble talking about Anna. “Knowing I’m shacked up with a woman.”

She smiled. “You’re working. Bo Fargo told you to stay with me.”

“That won’t matter. She’ll take one look at you and …” He didn’t finish.

“And what?” She had to bite back the direct questions popping up in her mind. What had happened to his parents? How had he come to be close to this woman named Anna?

His gaze fell all over her body. “Never mind.”

“Too late, Deputy McCall,” she coaxed. “What will she think?”

He grunted his amusement. “That there’s something going on between us.”

“She’d like that?” So would Gemma …

“She’s been hounding me lately to settle down again.”

Again? “You were married before?”

The tension reappeared beyond the iron wall that shielded his eyes. “What do you want to do for dinner?”

Wow. That was definitely another touchy subject. He didn’t like talking about his family or his past relationships. Except for Anna. How odd.

Sensing she’d get no more information out of him, she remembered she was supposed to meet Lacy. “Oh.” She checked the time. “I almost forgot. I have to stop by Cold Plains Coffee to pick up Lacy.”

“You have plans tonight?” The annoyance in his tone was unmistakable.

What didn’t he like? The fact that she had to go out and he’d have to go with her or that it was Lacy she was going to see? “We’re going to a seminar.”

“You just went to a seminar.”

Clearly, he didn’t approve of them. “When I called to tell her I couldn’t stop by today, she asked if I’d go with her tonight.”

After a lengthy pause, he said, “Be careful who you befriend at those.”

His warning made her search his eyes to see if he was serious. He was. “Do you mean Lacy?” She laughed a little. Lacy was the friendliest person she’d ever met.

“Haven’t you noticed anything odd about the community center?” He turned to face her full-on.

“No. It’s modern and beautiful and it serves a wonderful purpose.”

“Yeah, yeah. Samuel is a godsend. What would Cold Plains do without him?”

“Why don’t you like Samuel?”

“I don’t like what he’s doing to this town.” He sounded disgusted.

She angled her head in question. Why did he think there was something wrong about Cold Plains? “Who wouldn’t want to live here?” This was paradise compared to where she’d come from.

He leaned against a post supporting her covered patio. “It wasn’t always this way.”

“What way? Perfect? Idyllic? Safe?” At least it had been up until Jed showed up.

“This town was full of crime and cowboys before investors came and turned it into a tourist attraction.”

He didn’t like that? “What’s wrong with improving things?” Gemma asked.

“Nothing.”

She was pretty sure he thought there was something wrong with it. Why was he a cop here if he hated it so much? “You’d rather have it full of crime?”

“No.”

“Then …?”

He stared at her for a long time. “You’re new here.”

What was that supposed to mean? Old-timers knew something she didn’t? She found that so hard to comprehend. Cold Plains was a haven for her.

Straightening from the post, he walked with slow, sure strides to the patio door. “I’ll drive you and Lacy to the community center.”

Following him into her house, she wondered if the reason he didn’t like talking about his family situation had anything to do with his opinion of Cold Plains. She sensed a strong connection between the two. Was he here to right a wrong? Or did he have some kind of vendetta against certain people? Against Samuel Grayson?

Or Bo Fargo? She’d seen the way he’d looked at the man and it hadn’t been friendly. Ford didn’t respect the police chief. But why? He wouldn’t tell her if she asked. He’d already cut the conversation off.

He led her out the front door and she locked it behind her, watching him scan the neighborhood with trained eyes. She wished he didn’t attract her so much. His mysteries kept mounting. And now he’d warned her to be careful who she befriended. Was he one of those she should steer clear of? Instinct told her no. Her heart was drawn to him for some reason. Then again, her heart had been drawn to Jed, too.

She’d be careful all right. She’d be careful not to get too starry-eyed over Ford, police officer or not.