She’s squirming, cursing a blue streak until I grab her face with calloused fingertips that have never touched skin so soft.
“I know you’re scared, but I’m not going to hurt you. I’m here to protect you.”
She’s panting, her pupils are lakes, her body shaking.
This drives a spike into me. I don’t like scaring women. Ever. But River Allison is known as a spitfire. Both through her brother’s stories and her reputation on the rodeo circuit where she might as well be a rocket ship aimed for the top of the sport.
“How do you know my brother?” she bites out.
I exhale hard, my brain twisted into a tactical pretzel.
This was supposed to be simple. Now it’s anything but. “I served with him,” I admit, wondering if I’ll regret this reveal.
River processes that for a second, staring up at me with scrutiny. “You’rea SEAL?”
Her doubt slides under my skin like a thorn.
Gruff, I reply, “I know that’s hard to believe given I’m not wearing a wetsuit with a mask and snorkel, but I’ve been in civilian security for a few years.”
The puzzled way she looks at me makes me almost relieved. But if I’ve learned any lesson, it’s don’t trust the cover of a book.
The sheriff is walking up, and just as I suspected, he’s not happy.
“What’s going on here?”
I pin River with a look, which she throws back at me. When she opens her mouth, it’s not the scream I’m dreading.
Her voice is almost calm. Maybe even a little too flat. “My truck caught on fire.”
Well, shit.
The sheriff looks between us. “Is there a problem between you?”
He has no idea the depth of the problem, and he won’t be finding out from me. I nod once. “She’s angry because I wouldn’t let her go back to get more belongings.”
He looks at her for confirmation.
She nods, the motion stiff.
We look like a couple in a fight.Thank God.
The officer shifts, his hand still resting on his revolver grip. “Can I get an I.D.?”
It’s not really a question, so I reach for my wallet, keeping my movements slow. “Her purse is in the fire, but I’ve got mine.”
When I pass my license to him, he studies it for a second before he’s looking at me again. His expression isdifferent.
“You working?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
He glances around, eyes taking the same path mine did. All the places a threat could be hiding, and there are plenty. We’re sitting ducks.
“Let’s get her statement at the station.” He hands my license back as he says, “It’s too exposed here.”
Finally something goes right. I probably don’t need to say this, but I do anyway. “You need to get your arson specialist on that truck.”
“On it.”
