Her Lawman Protector. Patricia Johns
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think this isn’t irregular for me, too?”
She was tired of trying to shrink herself, take up less space, both physically and emotionally. She’d survived the worst she could imagine when her husband left her, and she’d promised herself never to back into a corner again.
“I’m here to protect you,” Jack qualified.
“Which I appreciate,” she agreed. “But you’re still here, in my home, in my business.”
Jack met her gaze for a moment, and she watched him, waiting. He was trying to hide what he was feeling, but a nervous tapping of one finger on his belt gave him away.
“All right,” he said at last. “Tit for tat.”
“Good.” She glanced at her watch. “You might want to call on that officer to collect your clothes. We’ve got a barbecue to attend.”
Liv hated this—officially. She wanted her own space, her privacy. She hated feeling threatened in her own home. She hated that she had to adjust to living with a man again just when she’d been finding some healing in solitude. But there was one tiny part of this that she wasn’t dreading, and that was having a good-looking boyfriend—fake as he was—to show off at that barbecue. She was tired of the pity and judgment. Maybe Aunt Marie would have less to say about her food choices if she thought that she’d already hooked another man.
Or maybe Marie would just chastise her for moving on too quickly. Whatever. It didn’t matter. Jack on her arm changed the balance of power around here, and for that small but significant fact, she didn’t mind his presence.
Let them talk—she wasn’t going to be Poor Liv anymore. She was going to be brave, outgoing, unfettered Liv with a muscular man by her side. And the gossips could choke on it.
* * *
JACK PARALLEL PARKED on the street where Liv indicated her aunt and uncle lived. The shadows stretched long and dark between telephone poles. This was an older section of town—small, boxy houses lined up in a 1950’s cookie-cutter paradise. Number 11, where Marie and Gerard Hylton lived, had a neat yard without a single leaf on the closely cropped grass, despite the large tree in the yard. It was immaculate.
“Your uncle is retired military, right?” Jack said.
“That’s right.”
“I can tell.”
Jack had changed into a pair of jeans with a leather jacket over a T-shirt. His aim was to at least try to fit in. Liv was wearing a long tartan skirt that skimmed over her hips and swirled around her calves paired with a black sweater that swept over her ample curves and looked so soft that his fingertips tingled with the desire to touch it. She knew how to dress her figure—always had that he could recall.
This was an excellent start to his investigation. When he’d texted the police chief with this opportunity to see the people closest to her, the chief had been optimistic, but he’d included advice—Watch who she confides in, if anyone. We don’t know how far this goes.
But Jack would have to be careful. He was posing as her romantic partner, and he needed to maintain some perspective. While it was good to keep the family from panicking and bounding into this fake threat, he needed some space to work and didn’t want them focusing on him instead. He had to slide under their radar. He was trying to keep a nice clear work space here...if that was possible in a place the size of Eagle’s Rest.
“Nervous?” Liv asked.
“Nope.” Jack pulled himself out of his thoughts.
“You should be,” she quipped, then opened her door and got out of the car.
“Why’s that?” he asked as he joined her outside in the evening chill.
“Because you’re about to tell the Hyltons that you’re dating me,” she replied with a low laugh. “And every single one of them is going to have a strong opinion about that.”
“For or against?” he asked.
She shrugged. “A bit of both, I imagine. But Hyltons are nothing if not passionate people.”
Her choice of words piqued his interest. Passionate, were they? He’d always suspected that under that polished veneer of hers there was some smolder—the kind that might get tugged along into an ill-advised plan for the sake of love. Or money. Or both. He glanced over at her, but she didn’t seem to catch the double entendre in her own words.
“They’ve got a fire going in the backyard,” Liv said.
“No time like the present.” He held out a hand toward her, and she hesitated.
“Oh, that’s right, look the part,” she said, and her cheeks tinged pink. She seemed so innocent and sweet like this—and he was going to have to be careful not to fall for his own undercover work.
“That okay?” He dropped his hand. “I’d just assumed. Or we could be a more distanced couple. That’s fine, too.”
The soft murmur of voices punctuated by laughter floated to them over the breeze, and Liv’s expression hardened. “No, you’re right.”
And she slipped her soft, cool fingers into his palm, shooting him a wary look. “I’m sick of their pity. I want to give them something a little juicier to talk about. But no kissing. And your hand stays at my waist and doesn’t wander.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He gave her a quizzical look. “I’m a cop, Liv. I’m not taking advantage.”
“Just making sure.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “Okay, let’s go.”
As they crossed the road and headed around the house to the backyard, the voices grew stronger, and he could smell the savory aroma of cooking meat. The backyard was larger than he’d thought. A fire pit in the center crackled and popped. There was a large barbecue next to the rear door of the house, and light from the back windows glowed out onto the lawn. The door stood open, and a woman came out with a platter of burger buns but stopped short when she saw them. People sat around on lawn chairs with cans of pop and beer in their hands, and as Jack and Liv approached, they started looking up and taking notice. The chatter fell silent, and then a child’s voice rang out with, “Who’s the guy with Aunt Liv?”
That was the beginning of introductions. A few older men shook his hand very firmly—with enough strength behind their grips that they seemed to be trying to prove something. The older ladies smiled sweetly, murmured things into Liv’s ear and cast Jack some sidelong looks. There were a few younger couples who said hello and smiled appropriately, and a small herd of kids who were playing together and stopped to stare. All the while, Jack tried to survey the different groups and sort out who, if anyone, might have a more businesslike relationship with Liv than the others. The chief was right—if Liv was connected to her ex-husband’s affairs, it might be through other family members. Evan had been part of this family for ten years. There might be a few in-law relationships that deserved his attention. Families could be close—his sure had been. So he understood how those dynamics worked.
“The food is set out,” a plump older woman said, shooing them toward a folding table covered in Tupperware and casserole dishes. “Go get something now. Paper plates are in the bag on the seat, there...”
As they headed toward the food, Jack leaned in.
“Was Evan close to any of your family?”
Liv shrugged. “He got along with everyone. He used to hang out with my brother, Steve, when we visited.”
“Is Steve here?” Jack asked.
“Not today. He’s on duty at the fire station.”
A brother who was a firefighter, an ex-husband who was a cop... People didn’t usually link public servants who risked their lives for their community to fraud, but it happened too often. Firefighters and cops didn’t make a whole lot of money, and like anyone, financial pressure sometimes got