Читать книгу The Lawman's Secret Vow - Tara Randel - Страница 13
ОглавлениеHE HAD TO hand it to her. She’d shown up.
Dante had had his doubts, considering the grueling couple of days prepping their undercover stories and investigation strategy. Must have been the team loyalty he’d inspired in her. Either that or she planned on sticking it to him during the race. A smart man would keep his eye on her, and Mrs. Matthews didn’t raise no dummy.
Eloise stopped at the perimeter of the teams milling around prior to the race. Uncertainty wrinkled her brow. A slender finger pushed her glasses up her nose. Man, that got him every time. She tried to hide her vulnerability, but it was like he had radar. Probably because he could relate.
Growing up in the shadows of his older brothers, barreling through life, whether it was grabbing the last pancake on Sunday morning or making a sports team one of his brothers had already left his mark on, he found himself competing for their respect. Making a bigger splash to get noticed. Hating when they’d nicknamed him Pretty Boy. He couldn’t help his looks. It was genetics and he was more than that, if they’d notice. Hadn’t he carved out a career in law enforcement because he wanted to be like his father? Upheld the family tradition?
Someone slapped him on the back, jolting him from his jaunt down memory lane.
“Today’s the day we beat you, Matthews.”
“In your dreams, Johnson.”
His taunt was met with a laugh. Yeah. Palm Cove would show the other teams today. The race might be called Maniacal Mudder because of the challenging obstacles, but he and his teammates would show the other police departments a thing or two.
“This is worse than I imagined,” Eloise said as she joined him. “Maybe I can get a last minute doctor’s note and bow out.”
“People have seen you. Can’t leave now.”
“Just what I was afraid of.”
“C’mon over to the sign-in table.”
He waited until she fell into step beside him and led them through the crowd. Before long she’d stowed away her small backpack, had a cloth square with the number eighty-three pinned to the back of her T-shirt and slipped on the rubber wristband given to the runners.
“Guess this makes me official.” She rolled her shoulders and glanced around. “I feel like I’m forgetting something.”
He made a swirly gesture toward her hair. “You might want a bandanna so if your hair gets loose it won’t get in your eyes.”
She worried her lower lip. “I didn’t bring one.”
“Got one in the car. Follow me.”
He led her to the ’65 Mustang. Hid a grin when her eyes went wide.
“Wow. That’s quite a car.”
“Been tinkering on it for a while. Decided to bring it out for a drive today.”
The two-seater looked sweet in the early-morning light. Or maybe he was jazzed to have taken it out for a spin, windows down, a fresh breeze blowing out the cobwebs after being cooped up all week.
“This is what Chambers meant when he mentioned your interest in restoring cars?”
“Yep.” He opened the door and leaned in to rummage through the glove box, pulling out a checkered square of cloth. “My dad and I logged a lot of hours working on cars like this. Mostly muscle cars. We’d restore and flip them.”
“A side business?”
“Not really. It was a reason to make time to be together.”
Her eyes took on a wistful gleam.
“How about you? Any hobbies you share with your folks?”
“Not unless you consider lecturing your daughter a hobby?”
Okay, then. He handed her the bandanna. “This should work.”
She took it, twisted it between her fingers.
“Don’t worry so much. This is going to be fun.” He nodded to the cloth. “Might help keep your glasses in place, too.”
Her fingers flew up to the arms of the glasses as she adjusted them. “Brought an old pair. Just in case.”
“You’ll do fine.”
Doubt and fear competed for prominence across her gentle features. Before he could stop and think about what he was doing, Dante laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. There was a spark from the connection. At her surprised glance, their eyes met and held. The deep, coffee-brown depths started his heart to hammering, which had nothing to do with the anticipation of the race and everything to do with the woman standing before him.
As if scalded, he jerked his hand back to his side. Eloise ducked her head. Uneasiness hovered between them.
“We should join the team,” he said finally.
They began to walk away when Eloise stopped.
“You forgot to lock your car.”
“No need.”
“Really? With all the auto thefts we investigate, you’re willing to take a chance?”
A slow grin curved his lips. “Never with my car.”
She waited for an explanation.
“One, I take my keys with me. Two, I disconnect the fuel cell. Even if someone tried to hot-wire my car—and with dozens of cops around that would be stupid—they wouldn’t get anywhere.”
She shrugged. “Your decision.”
He was about to defend himself when his phone rang. Yanking it from his pocket, he read the caller ID. His brother Dylan. “I need to take this.”
“I see Brandy. I’m going to talk to her.”
He watched her stroll away, shoulders hunched just a bit, before he tapped the green button. “Hey, bro. What’s up?”
“Got a minute?”
“Only. Getting ready to compete in a mud race.”
“A mud what?”
“You need to get out more.”
“Whatever. Listen, we have a problem with Mom.”
Unease skittered over his neck. “Is she okay?”
“Physically, she’s fine.” Dylan paused. Either for effect or composure. Knowing Dylan, the ultimate protector, Dante banked on the second.
“She’s dating.”
Dante blinked a few times. Had he heard Dylan right? “Dating?”
“As in going out with a guy who isn’t our father.”
“Our mother?”
“The only one we’ve got.”
Huh. She hadn’t mentioned this when he’d last talked to her. But then again, Jasmine Matthews could be cagey when she wanted to.
“In all fairness, our father is in the forever after.”
“Yes. But she’s dating.”
Dante and his brothers had talked about what they’d do if their mother ever decided to put herself out in the dating world again. Jasmine was in her late fifties. Young enough to find interest in another man. But growing up around his parents, seeing the depth of their devotion to each other, he and his brothers had been convinced she’d never take the plunge. Apparently they were mistaken.
“When did this start?”
“I just found out about it last night. Mom swore Kady to secrecy.”
Their mother had moved to Cypress Pointe, where Dylan was currently residing, to work with Dylan’s girlfriend, Kady, at her family’s floral shop.
“How could you let this happen?” Dante accused.
“Really? Have you met our mother? She has a mind of her own.”
No joke. Still... “Have you talked to her about this?”
“She told me to mind my own business,” Dylan answered gruffly.
Dante snorted. “Rich, coming from a woman who has made it her life’s mission to interfere in ours.” He shook his head. When their father had died, the brothers had promised each other to protect their mom, no matter the cost, and not let anything hurt her again, if they could help it. If this was one of those situations, they’d find any way possible to safeguard her. “Who is this guy?”
“She won’t say.”
“But being the dutiful son that you are, you found out, anyway, right?”
He paused. “She didn’t exactly confide in Kady, only mentioned a man in her life, and has refused to tell me his name.”
“But you’ll ferret it out of her, right?”
“You bet. She isn’t the only Matthews with mad interrogation skills.”
Dante didn’t doubt his brother for one second.
“Have you told Derrick and Deke?”
“Derrick laughed for about five minutes. Deke wanted to jump on the next plane home and start a search for the guy.”
“Well, I won’t add to your troubles by showing up. It’ll only make Mom clam up more.”
“Any chance you’ll be free in the coming days if we need a brotherly chat?”
Dante inhaled the smoky scent of the grill being prepared for the barbecue lunch. His stomach growled in anticipation. “Starting a new case on Monday. I’ll be undercover so I can’t make any promises. I can videoconference call with you guys if necessary.”
“Okay. I’ll let you know.” Dylan went quiet for a long-drawn-out moment. “This case dangerous?”
“Shouldn’t be.”
“Watch your back, Pretty Boy.”
Dante ground his back teeth before answering. “Got it under control.”
“I’ll keep you informed.”
Dante signed off, struggling to keep his cool between the Pretty Boy remark and the fact that their mother was keeping secrets from them. She’d never done that before, unless it was leverage to get him or his brothers to do her bidding. It had always been in fun, the Matthews family game, until now. He didn’t like it. Not one little bit. And he was sure his brothers felt the same way.
“You all right?” Eloise asked as she tentatively moved toward him.
He controlled the scowl he was sure would scare anyone away.
“Family drama.”
“Okay, well, the team is gathering for a pep talk before the race starts.”
He shook off his mood and strode toward her. “Lead the way.”
The group huddled together, speaking in low tones. Dante pushed forward, making room for Eloise beside him. He clapped his hands. “Are we ready?”
Everyone responded with a resounding yes, except Eloise.
“We’re going to follow one another in the staggered starts. Two each from our team at a time, as well as the other departments participating.” He glanced at Eloise. “There’s a chip in the wristband they gave you. At the end, we’ll see which team has the best time.”
He raised his hand, to which the team high-fived. “Good race, everyone.”
Eloise moved away, scanning the course set out before them. Her cute nose wrinkled in distaste. “Smells like soggy grass out here.”
“Makes the challenge more fun.”
The race announcer called the teams to the starting line.
“You’re running last,” Dante told Eloise. “You can watch us, get a feel for the course. If you have a hard time maneuvering an obstacle, one of your fellow runners will give you a hand.” He tried to read her face, but it had gone blank. “Ready?”
She looked at him. “Our team really holds the record?”
“So far.”
With a deep breath, Eloise squared her shoulders. “Okay. I can do this.”
Dante grinned. He couldn’t wait to watch.
* * *
THE ANNOUNCER PUMPED up the challengers with a rousing pep talk before lifting up the small, black device in his hand. A loud electronic beep sounded among the excited cries of runners, and they were off. Brandy stood beside Eloise as they watched, cute in a bright pink T-shirt and black running shorts, her thick hair pulled back in a high ponytail. Eloise had grabbed an old ratty shirt and a pair of baggy shorts she’d worn years ago when she was at the police academy. Hardly a fashion statement, but then...this was mud!
“I’m pumped,” Brandy gushed. “This is my second time in a mud race.”
“So it’s not awful?”
“Are you kidding? You’re going to have a blast.”
Eloise doubted it.
She’d studied the course description when she’d logged on to the race site online. Three miles, short by most mud race standards, with eight obstacles in all. They didn’t seem terribly daunting. The hardest part would be keeping her feet from getting sucked into a mudhole. Watching previous race videos to get an idea of what she’d encounter, she now stood before the real thing.
“What am I doing here?”
She had better things to focus on, like the details of her very first undercover operation. She’d made lists after the briefing, took care of personal business and started packing, even though they didn’t start until Monday. She would have liked to go over the official reports of previous car thefts today, try to find a pattern or similarities in the crimes, but that wasn’t happening. Even Lieutenant Chambers had been on board with her joining her fellow Palm Cove officers in the race. Being a team player would go a long way toward the promotion.
Glancing around, it seemed like everyone but Eloise was a competitor. If they’d entered a race on reading books, she bet she’d come in first every time.
The next group lined up, ready to take off. She caught sight of Dante, looking very athletic in a tight tank top and running shorts. His leg muscles, defined as he struck the starting pose, reminded Eloise that he liked to run. She shuddered. Running had never been her forte, her average times gumming her up at the academy, but she’d pushed herself because the goal of graduating was more important than the misery of running. Could she pull this off?
The beep sounded again and Dante, a mischievous grin on his face, took off. He cleared the first hurdle, hay bales lined up end to end along the width of the course, with very little effort, then sprinted. He reached up to grab the monkey bars at the next obstacle, swiftly moving hand over hand until he jumped off. After that, she lost sight of him.
Brandy turned to Eloise. “My group is up next.”
She ran off to join the others, leaving Eloise behind. Her heart quaked in her chest and she thought she might throw up. She should have stood her ground. Never let Dante taunt her into coming. But as much as she dreaded today, a part of her that had only dreamed of the opportunity was thrilled to be part of the group. After all the rejections in gym class growing up, years of hiding her embarrassment, being on this team meant the world to her. She had to do well, or they’d never ask her again.
Before she was mentally ready—would she ever be?—it was her group’s turn. She took her place, swallowed hard and, when the beep sounded, took off.
The hay bale wasn’t bad, a bit slippery since they’d been soaked with water prior to the race. Her team member reached the monkey bars before her. With an oomph, she jumped up and grabbed hold, dangling over the murky water below, wishing she had better upper body strength. She pulled herself, grunted—grunted!—and slowly made it across. So far so good, she thought.
She ran a distance before coming upon a large, shallow mud patch. Here, she would have to slither through the sludge on her knees and elbows, ducking under swinging plastic barrels overhead. Good Lord. Who came up with this torture?
She lowered herself, cringing when the cold mud slithered against her skin. She bonked her head, three times, but eventually made it through. Rising, she tried pulling the damp T-shirt from her skin, then decided to forget it. She had to keep moving.
“Hey, Eloise. Good job.”
She nearly tripped looking over her shoulder to see who’d called her name. Before she could find a familiar face, she ran right up to the next obstacle, walking over a single plank of wood that rather resembled a balance beam, above water.
“Center yourself,” she coached herself, stepping up, arms out to her sides for balance. She stopped once when she began to totter, throwing her shoulders back. Then she was off again.
The obstacles continued. She carried a long pole across her shoulders as she moved through a knee-deep pond, crawled through a dank-smelling tube and dashed over a hill with randomly placed buckets keeping her on a zany path, sprinting as fast as she could without losing breath between each obstacle. By now she barely noticed the warm, earthy smells, ignored her damp skin and clothing, not to mention her feet squishing in her sneakers. Then she came upon the final obstacle and stopped dead in her tracks.
An eight-foot wall, with cutout holes in the wood for the runners to scale up and over, loomed in her spotty image. She wiped the lenses on her glasses and gaped. No way.
“Get moving,” people from behind her yelled as they passed her. “You can do it.”
The chatter and hoots of laughter dimmed as she concentrated on the wall before her. Heart pounding, she ran to the wall, placing her feet in the lowest holes. Her soles were slippery and she promptly slid out. Grinding her teeth, she pressed down hard to keep purchase and lifted her arms to the cutouts above her. Slowly, she lugged herself to the top, wondering what her time could be. As she swung one leg over the peaked top, she could see the finish line in the distance. Along with the Palm Cove PD, standing on the sidelines to cheer on their team.
Dante stood out, waving his arms in encouragement. She gulped. Swung over the other leg. Looked down. Froze.
Was she supposed to jump?
Another participant handed her a rope. “Use this to get down.”
Breaking out of her scared stupor, she grabbed the muddy rope like a lifeline. Pushed herself off and tried to rappel down. Only her hands slipped—ouch, rope burn—and her feet slid down the wet wood. Next thing she knew she was sitting butt down in the mud, recovering from the jolt to her tailbone as people dashed around her.
“C’mon, Eloise, you can finish.”
She looked over to see Dante. He’d moved up the line to get a clear view of her sitting there. She’d done pretty good through the other obstacles. Why did he have to witness her ungainly fall now?
“Get up. You’re almost finished.”
She’d show Mr. Hotshot Matthews. With a sudden burst of energy, she rose, stumbled, then took off as fast as her shaky legs would carry her. Loud cries and applause greeted her at the end of the line.
She bent over once she knew she’d crossed, hands on her knees, heaving in great big gulps of air. Her heart beat overtime, her head hurt and her knees were red and skinned.
And what, exactly, did people find invigorating about this race?
A hand slapped her on her back. She rose, meeting Dante’s amused gaze.
“You survived.”
The heck with survived. “Did we hold on to the record?”
His grin dimmed a fraction. “Off a couple seconds. No big deal.”
Her stomach sank. She’d cost them the victory? “I’m sorry. I...I could have—”
Dante cut her off. “Stop.”
She blinked back the stinging tears blurring her eyes.
“You did great for your first time. The Sandy Beach PD signed up a ringer, so we were outmanned, anyway.”
She ran a dirty finger under her nose, then grimaced.
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
She’d blown it. For the team. Could she feel any worse?
Brandy and the rest of her fellow officers circled her, giving her praise and joking with each other. All Eloise could muster up was disappointment in herself.
“Hey,” Dante said with a low voice as he leaned in close. Gripped her elbow. “You okay?”
No.
“Sure,” she said, pulling her arm from his grasp. She didn’t need his sympathy.
Brandy hooked her arm through Eloise’s. “Let’s get our complimentary T-shirt, clean up and have lunch. That barbecue smells good and I’m starving.”
She limped along with her friend. In the public restroom, she took one look in the mirror and nearly burst out in tears.
“Oh. My. Gosh.”
Brandy giggled. “Yeah. This race takes a toll.”
Eloise’s gaze slipped to her friend, as Brandy patted only a bit of mud from her fresh face, and she nearly growled.
Reluctantly returning to the mirror, she cringed. Her hair stuck out, mostly frizz pulled from the ponytail. Her glasses hung haphazardly, caked with gunk. Her shirt was stained and her legs were spotted with mud.
“Please tell me you have a brush,” Eloise nearly whimpered.
“Not on me.” Brandy laughed. “Don’t worry. You’re in the same condition as the other runners.”
“If that was meant to make me feel better, it didn’t work.”
Brandy handed her the clean shirt. “Put this on. It’ll help your disposition.”
Really? At this point, nothing could make her feel...anything.
They finished up, but after stepping outside, Eloise told her friend, “I’m going to my car. I’ll be back.”
Brandy narrowed her eyes. “You aren’t running off, are you?”
“No. I need to fix my hair before I join the team.”
“Okay, but if you aren’t back in ten minutes I’m going to send a search party for you.”
Dragging in a long sigh, she retrieved her pack and keys and marched to her car. She tossed her ruined shirt on the back floor, quickly grabbed a brush she’d placed in the console and went to work on the tangles catching in her shoulder-blade-length hair. Then she grabbed a towel she’d thrown in the back seat and wiped off her legs and arms. Changed sneakers. Feeling marginally human again, she turned to see Dante walking her way, a water bottle in each hand. Great. Add messy insult to injury.
He handed her a bottle covered in condensation when he reached her. “I noticed you didn’t stop at any of the water stations along the course. Figured you’d be thirsty.”
She didn’t realize how much until the cold, clear water slid down her parched throat. She chugged half the bottle before asking, “How long were you watching?”
“Just after you cleared the hay bales.”
Great. Only the entire course. She forced herself to meet his blue-eyed gaze. “Sorry I cost you the best time.”
He waved off her concern. “Don’t worry. It’s more for bragging rights. Trash talk, really.”
She shook her head. “I just don’t get it.”
“Get what? Having fun?”
“No. This whole team mentality. I mean, I understand from a work perspective. We need to work together to put bad guys away. But sports...”
“I take it you weren’t on any sports teams in school?”
“Do I look like I’m athletic?”
He took a long, leisurely sweep from her head to her toes and back. She shuddered under his perusal.
“Right now? I guess not. How about other teams? Intellectual pursuits?” He grinned. “I could see you on the debate team.”
She wished. If she’d had the nerve to join back then, she would have loved to debate. Fear had taken precedence.
“I wasn’t really involved in many team endeavors. Mostly stayed to myself.”
“Why?”
She took another sip to stall. Why indeed? Lacked confidence, she supposed. Without parents or anyone to encourage her, it was hard to work up the nerve to join in.
“I didn’t really have a lot of support. My parents are college professors. Really busy.”
He tilted his head, but thankfully didn’t say a word.
“I suppose now that I’ve run the course, next time I’ll know what to expect.”
“Next time?”
She cringed. Had she overstepped? “That is, if the team will have me?”
“Are you kidding? We’ll take any soul willing to run through muck and then hoist back a beer.” He frowned. “You will have a celebratory beer, won’t you?”
Would she? She didn’t drink. Never saw the appeal. “I suppose.”
“That’s the spirit. Let’s go get some food.” Dante turned and started toward the smoking grills and clusters of chatting people.
Her stomach growled, and for the first time since her clumsy descent of the climbing wall, she felt better.
“Dante. Wait.”
He turned. Walked back to her.
“Thank you. For pushing me to come today. Even though I might have cost you bragging rights, I had fun.”
He threw an arm over her shoulders, leaned in and spoke into her ear. “Then it was a good day.”
She turned a fraction. His face was so close to hers. She held her breath. Waiting, for what, she wasn’t sure. This close, the dark blue of his eyes mesmerized her. She couldn’t have moved if she wanted to.
She felt him go still. His warm breath brushed her cheek, yet he continued to stare down at her. Seeing what? she wondered. Then, just as quickly as the moment began, it ended when he moved away.
He smiled. Hitched his shoulder and she fell into step beside him.
Before long she was enjoying a tasty barbecue beef sandwich, the bold spices exploding with flavor in her mouth. She sipped a cold beer like her teammates—again, not her thing—and switched to bottled water. Found herself involved in conversation not involving the job and realized, I’m part of a team.
The reality shook her. Made her wonder why she’d shied away, especially once she was on her own and away from her parents’ negativity. Old habits? Fear she’d mess up and hear her parents’ voices in her head saying, I told you so? Suddenly she looked at her coworkers in a new light. She had friends, she realized. Strange, but wondrous at the same time.
“I thought I saw you on the course,” a male voice said over her shoulder. She turned. Tom Bailey was there, surprise etched on his face.
“Tom. Hi.” She waved. “It was a last-minute thing.”
“How’d you do?”
She held her arms out at her sides. “I’m in one piece.”
He chuckled. His warm eyes met hers. “Want another drink?”
She checked her water bottle. “I’m good.”
“Have you eaten?”
She nodded.
“How about getting away from this crowd?”
She blinked.
“It’s hard to talk over all the conversations.”
“Okay.” She joined him as he headed a few feet away and found a quiet bench far enough from the noise but still in sight of her teammates.
“I was hoping you would have run with me,” he said.
“For another PD? I don’t think that’s how it’s done.”
Tom chuckled, a pleasant sound. “No, I suppose not. Guess I was being selfish.”
“How’s that?”
They glanced over the scene before them: police officers enjoying the spring day, the mild temperatures and a time of relaxation away from the demands of the job.
“I was hoping you’d like to go out with me sometime.”
Her mind went blank. He was asking her on a date?
“Tom. I don’t know what to say.”
“How about yes?”
It had been a while since she’d been out with a guy. Work kept her busy and now she was focused on the promotion. Then there was Dante’s blue eyes...
“Tom, I have to turn you down.”
She glimpsed embarrassment in his eyes and, hating that she put it there, quickly laid her hand on his. “Not because I don’t like you. I’m getting ready to go undercover and I don’t know when I’ll be free.”
His face brightened. “But you’d think about it? After?”
Would she? She looked back at the crowd. Dante stood talking to a tall, leggy blonde, probably his type of woman, and decided, Why not?
“Sure. If you don’t mind waiting?”
“No. I mean, it’ll give me time to plan something fantastic.”
She chuckled. “Dinner and a movie is fine.”
“Not for you.”
She smiled at him. He was handsome, with round cheeks, nice green eyes, sandy-blond hair. All in all pleasant, but nothing to get her heart racing like when she was with Dante. The few occasions she’d spent with Tom, they’d had a decent conversation. No witty banter, but still...nice. So why wasn’t her tummy doing somersaults at the thought of dating him? Her heart not pounding out an excited rhythm?
“Listen,” she said, troubled by the direction of her thoughts. She’d said yes about going out with Tom and had meant it. “I should get back.”
“Sure. Okay.” They rejoined the crowd. “Call me when your assignment is over.”
“I will,” she said, watching as he walked backward, waving goodbye.
“What was that all about?” Dante asked as he sauntered over to her side.
“Tom asked me out on a date.”
Dante glanced in the direction of Tom’s path and back to her. “Told you he was an admirer.”
“I suppose.”
“Tell him we have an op coming up?”
“Yes. He was cool about it.”
Dante raised a brow.
“What?”
“I don’t know. He doesn’t seem like your type.”
“I have a type?”
“Everyone has a type.”
Hers seemed to be Dante, she realized. A depressing thought because she was no competition for the leggy blonde.
“Look, who I go out with shouldn’t be of any interest to you,” she said with a little starch in her tone.
“Are you kidding? Monday you become my wife.”
Her heart shivered. “For the op. Not real life.”
“Still...”
“Leave it alone, Dante. Let’s enjoy the day.”
“Sure.” He glanced over at the blonde he’d been chatting up. “I’m going out for drinks later, anyway.”
“Great. Have fun.”
He scowled at her. “I will.”
She stood her ground. Waited for him to leave.
He stared back, then finally shook off his mood. “Go home and get some shut-eye,” he suggested before walking off. “We’re setting up house bright and early Monday morning.”
