Not Without Her Family. Beth Andrews
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I said, the door wasn’t locked and—”
“Do you always walk into a building simply because the door’s not locked?”
She fought her growing irritation. “What I’m saying is that I’d hoped someone was here so I knocked, several times, and when no one answered—”
“You let yourself in,” he finished for her. “Despite the Closed sign on the door.”
“I didn’t come inside to steal anything. I’m actually looking for someone who works here.”
“That so? And who would that be?”
“Dillon Ward.” She bit the inside of her lip. “Maybe you know him?”
He didn’t so much as blink. Kelsey blew out an exasperated breath. Didn’t everyone know everyone in a small town? But there was no flash of recognition in the cop’s eyes.
“Look,” she said, setting her purse on the bar, “I have a picture of him in here, maybe you could—”
“Hold up.” Chief Martin closed the distance between them in two long strides, picked up her purse and dumped it on the bar out of her reach.
Her mouth fell open. “What was that for?”
“A precautionary measure.”
“For what?” Then realization dawned on her and she wasn’t sure if she was amused or offended. “You worried I have a gun in there? Sorry to disappoint, but I left my Uzi in my evening bag.”
Ignoring her, he finally stepped back and nodded toward her scattered belongings. “Go ahead.”
She started to speak, then decided against it and dutifully pulled her wallet out of the mess and flipped it open. She took out the ten-year-old picture of Dillon and handed it to the cop but couldn’t stop herself from asking, “You always such a tight ass? Or is this just my lucky day?”
“Just doing my job, ma’am.” He glanced at the picture. “What’s your business with Mr. Ward?”
Kelsey cleared her throat. “It’s personal.”
He handed the picture back to her. “We’ve had several burglaries and instances of break-ins resulting in destruction of property over the past two months and—”
“I hate to burst your bubble,” she said as she tossed her stuff back into her purse, “but I’ve only been in town an hour. Any destruction to this property was done long before I arrived—maybe even before I was born. Besides, what am I supposed to steal? Plastic sip straws?”
She snapped her purse shut, raised her head and bit back a yelp of surprise. Chief Martin had stepped closer, his large body now looming over her. In an instinctive attempt to put some distance between them, Kelsey shuffled back and found herself pressed against the bar.
Her heart galloping in her chest, she straightened and forced herself to maintain eye contact. Cops were like wild dogs—hostile, arrogant, downright mean—and they ran in packs. The police department in her hometown had rallied around her abusive stepfather for years, simply because he was one of them.
She also knew if you showed them the slightest hint of fear, they’d gobble you up before you could say “kibble.”
“I wasn’t accusing you of any wrongdoing, ma’am,” he said in that annoyingly calm, emotionless voice of his. “I was simply explaining the reasons behind my actions.”
“Oh.” Kelsey swallowed and berated herself for attempting to antagonize him. “Sorry. It’s just that you…I mean…cops…make me nervous,” she blurted, her face heating.
His expression didn’t change. Did the man ever blink? “I take it you’ve had your share of run-ins with the police?”
“You could take it that way.”
Way more than she was comfortable with—starting with her first arrest at age ten for shoplifting. During the next five years she’d been busted for almost everything including underage drinking and vandalism to resisting arrest. And each time, when her stepfather—Glenn—found out about the trouble she’d gotten into, she usually ended up with a few bruises as part of her punishment.
“Seeing as how the owner isn’t here, and taking into account the break-ins, why don’t I just wait with you until Mr. Ward arrives?”
Kelsey crossed her arms. Just once she’d like real life to go according to her plans. Nowhere in her itinerary for the day did she have hang with a cop penciled in.
It grated to admit that even after all these years, cops still made her nervous. And she still didn’t trust a one of them.
She shook her head. “That’s not really necessary—”
“I insist,” he said, his steady blue eyes meeting hers.
She tried to tell herself her unsettled stomach was caused by nerves but even she wasn’t that good a liar. Okay, she really did not need her previously dormant hormones to surge to life. Not now. And especially not with a cop.
“You know,” she said, ignoring the unsteadiness in her voice, “maybe I should just wait in my car. Then we can chalk this whole episode up to one big misunderstanding.”
She wasn’t sure, but she could’ve sworn his lips twitched. “But this episode was just getting interesting,” he said dryly.
Yeah. That’s what she was afraid of.
“Besides,” he continued, “you never explained what your personal business with Mr. Ward happens to be. Is he your husband? Boyfriend?”
She shook her head. “No. He’s my brother.”
HER BROTHER? He hadn’t seen that one coming.
She didn’t look much like the broad-shouldered, dark-haired Ward. Jack took in Kelsey Reagan’s slim legs, subtly curved hips and the tight black T-shirt hugging her small, round breasts. And was that a tattoo peeking over the waistband of her low-slung jeans?
His mouth grew dry at the idea of finding out, and he frowned. Focus, Martin.
He stole a quick look at her left ring finger. “Is Reagan your married name?”
“I’m not married.”
“Divorced?”
She raised both eyebrows. “Nosey, aren’t you?” Warmth crept up his neck but he merely shrugged. “Just curious.”
“If you must know, Dillon is my half brother. Different fathers.”
“And, as Mr. Ward’s sister, you thought illegal entry was a good idea?”
She sighed. “You’re just not going to let that go, are you?”
“I’m just doing—”
“I know, I know. You’re doing your job. I get it, okay? Just lay off the ma’ams,” she said as Jack’s sister Allie walked through the front door, “or else I might give you a reason to haul out those handcuffs you’re obviously dying to use.”
“Hey,” Allie called, curiosity clear on her face, “what’s going on?”
Ignoring his sister—and Kelsey’s loaded statement about him wanting to cuff her—Jack kept his gaze on the redhead. She reminded him of those modern art paintings his daughter had been fascinated with at the Metropolitan Museum of Art a few months back. The sharp lines of Kelsey’s face shouldn’t have worked with her high cheekbones and narrow nose. But they did. In fact, her unique features made her face all the more interesting.
He frowned. He found her interesting in a totally professional way, he assured himself, nothing more.
“I need to speak to the building’s owner for a minute,” he said, stepping back. But it