Still feeling the sun baking the back of his neck, and with his shirt stuck to his spine with sweat, when all he wanted was a cold drink and ten minutes in his own bloody office without a battle.
Instead—there she was.
Taryn Hayes.
Stationed at his desk like she owned it, with files spread in front of her, highlighter uncapped, picking through the bones of his life like a bureaucratic crow.
Finn turned around and headed back the way he’d come.No way in hell was he dealing with that.
‘Sergeant Wilde?’Her heels click-clacked behind him.‘Wait!’
His jaw clenched as he punched through the back door.He didn’t stop.
‘You signed for feed and fencing supplies two weeks ago, but the receipts don’t match the delivery records.’Taryn chased him down, waving a folder like it was a weapon.‘There’s a discrepancy.’
Figures she’d find something he’d missed.
‘I’m working.’His boots crunched on the gravel as he headed for his troopy.‘Ask Craig or Amara.’
‘I did.They said you handled the order.’
He stopped and finally faced her, leaving only the afternoon heat to shimmer between them.
Her blouse clung to her collarbones, with her hair twisted in that sharp, neat knot.Those eyes—goddamn them—still watching, still dissecting him like she was three moves ahead.
‘Are you always this persistent?’He hated that she was here with the power to kill the whole damn squad, and not a hint of a smile to soften the blow.
‘Only when things don’t add up.’
Finn dragged a hand down his face.Of all the days…
But then he caught it—that scent.Subtle.Clean.Not perfume.Not out here.Something softer.Citrus maybe.And like skin after a hot shower.
His brain refused to name it.
His body, unfortunately, had no problem recognising it.
And how it curled around him like smoke, messing with his focus, making him stupid.Noticing the strands of hair that had slipped from her neat little knot, curling against her neck like they didn’t care about the rules either.
He stepped back, as if distance might cure the stupidity.
But it didn’t.
‘You want the paperwork?’His voice was rougher than he liked.‘It’s at the feed store.We’ve got an account there.I’m sure they’ll print off what you need.’
‘Where?’
Don’t do it.
Why should he play nice withher?The sharp-eyed woman with a government badge and heels, sent to dissect his squad like a butcher.
Since when did the devil come wrapped in a package like her?
He exhaled through his nose.Hard.
‘I’ll drop you off.Less chance you’ll get lost.’Dammit.He hadn’t meant to say that but now it was too late to take it back.
You’d think the drive would be short…
