LITMIR.BIZ

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Mr. Unpleasant Personality—riding shotgun and wearing a perpetual scowl. She’d never met a more rigid, disagreeable, impatient, judgmental man...except maybe her father. But at least her father knew how to turn on the charm for his flock. He just didn’t waste it on her.

      But after her conversation with Madison, June had decided to give Sam the benefit of the doubt and a second chance at being a decent human being. She climbed from the cab, shifted her duty belt at her waist, then marched from the parking lot into the station. As usual, she was early and the other deputies’ desks were empty. The only light came from the chief’s domain.

      “Jones, my office,” Roth called out.

      She stopped in front of the chief’s desk. “Yes, sir? Have you rethought my request to reassign Sam?”

      “Not a chance. I had calls from each of those boys’ fathers last night. They both think you went overboard with the punishments.”

      She hadn’t even clocked in and her day had begun to circle the drain. “But, Chief, this was their second offense, and after all the vandalism we had with those other teens a few months back—”

      He held up one finger to stop her defense. “I disagreed with them. And I told them as much. You turned what could have been a bad and expensive experience into a learning opportunity—not just for these boys, but also for their peers.”

      Surprised and relieved, she sighed. She and Roth didn’t have enough of a track record for her to know how he thought. “Thanks for the backup, sir.”

      “I also told them if they’d take the time to parent their sons, Quincey PD officers wouldn’t have to.”

      She winced. “That, uh, might not have been a good idea.”

      “I’m not going to pander to egos. My predecessor was too nice and too lenient. No one will ever accuse me of that.

      “Jones, I want you to take Rivers to the shooting range first thing this morning. Introduce him to Tate Lowry and empty a couple of boxes. Sam needs to get a weapon in his hands again and become familiar with the HK. Lowry’s expecting you. The department will cover the cost of the rounds.”

      Sounded like fun—even with the bad company. “Yes, sir. Is that all?”

      “No. Don’t shoot my new deputy.” He said it with a straight face, but humor sparkled in his eyes.

      “I’ll do my best to resist the temptation, Chief, but I make no promises, because he is a pain in the butt,” she responded equally deadpan. The office had changed since Roth took over. Piper’s dad had been a good boss, but more things got done with the new chief always pushing for improvement.

      “Let me give you a piece of advice in dealing with Sam. His eye is still healing and his vision isn’t what it once was. The doctors said it would take up to a year for it to stabilize. He’s on shaky ground now—not sure if he’ll end up with a permanent visual impairment. He’s a man of actions, not words. Let your accuracy do the talking this morning. And show no mercy. Give him all you’ve got. Understood?”

      She bit her lip. As much as she disliked Sam, she wasn’t comfortable with kicking the man while he was down. “That seems a bit...cruel given his injury, sir. Are you sure that’s the best way to handle this?”

      “I’m sure. Sam thrives on adversity. He thinks his clearest when under extreme pressure. That skill saved our asses on more than one occasion. The sniper motto is Death Before Capture. There were a couple of times I was certain there was no way out of our predicament, and I was contemplating eating my own bullet rather than surrendering. But each time, Sam’s ingenuity got us out of trouble.

      “Trust me, Jones, he’ll take this as a challenge, and improving his skills will give him something to focus on besides being cut from the corps.”

      She wasn’t convinced, but an order was an order. “If you say so, sir. I’ll do my best to wipe the floor with him.”

      Roth laughed. “That’s exactly what he needs.”

      The exterior door opened, then closed. Silence followed. No sound of clunky footsteps heralded Morris or Aycock. Instead, June looked up and saw Sam standing in the chief’s doorway. Without the sunglasses. The impact of his icy blue eyes on hers winded her like a bad tackle in a family-reunion football game.

      “Repeating your request to dump me?” he growled.

      Be nice, June. It won’t kill you. But it might come close.

      She stretched her mouth into a smile so wide it nearly cracked her cheeks. “Good morning, Rivers. On the contrary, I’m getting our assignment. Clock in. I’ll be waiting in the cruiser. The chief is sending us on an expedition.”

      She headed for the door and paused for Sam to step out of the way.

      “Hold it, Jones.” The chief’s voice stopped her inches from her new partner.

      So much for a quick escape. She pivoted to face the boss. The subtle aroma of man filled her nostrils. Sam. Not cologne. Her mouth dried. She was too close, but she refused to give away her unsettled reaction by backtracking. “Yes, sir?”

      “The idea you submitted for modernizing our records and converting our paper files to digital is a good one. When the equipment I’ve requisitioned comes in, you and Sam will be in charge of that operation. Copy that?”

      She wouldn’t be passing Deputy Rivers off to someone else anytime soon. Not good news. “Yes, Chief.”

      “That’s all.”

      She turned and looked at Sam. His cold gaze drilled hers, but he stubbornly held his ground, blocking half the doorway. Was he trying to intimidate her? If so, he was wasting his time. She’d endured far worse from her brothers and her fellow officers in Raleigh who’d been determined to run off the female country bumpkin—especially once she’d shown them up on the range.

      She brushed past him, being extremely careful not to bump him, but at the last second the duty pack on her belt snagged on him, jolting her pulse into a wild rhythm. Ignoring it, she headed for the break room. She needed coffee and distance before closeting herself in the car with him.

      Treat him like a brother, Madison had said. But neither Michael nor Rhett had ever had this disconcerting effect on her. On second thought, maybe she didn’t need the caffeine after all. Her pulse was pounding like a woodpecker against her eardrums, and she was already jumpy. If she wanted to be able to hit the target, she needed to steady her nerves.

      Calm. Cool. Whoop his butt.

      Yes, he was an ex-sniper. But that meant he was used to long-range rifles. Thanks to her grandfather, she was an expert with handguns. And as Roth had said, Sam had visual issues, too.

      Time for some humble pie, Deputy Sam.

      * * *

      SAM HAD NEVER minded silence. Before now. He was used to solitude and didn’t need entertaining. He definitely did not need or miss June’s chatter or stopping every five yards to meet Quincey’s people.

      Recon was his thing. The scenery—fields, woods, farms—was self-explanatory. He saw what he needed to see and made a mental map of the region. He didn’t need her to identify the plants that provided cover or the hollows where someone could hide, or for her to tell him stories about the odd characters who lived up each dirt driveway the way she had yesterday. Quiet suited him fine.

      But he was flying blind with no intel to their destination and he didn’t like it. June was edgy. He could feel tension rolling off her like heat off an airstrip. The uneasy feeling of being on the verge of walking into an ambush grew stronger by the minute.

      Another mile passed without June taking her foot off the gas except to allow a gaggle of geese to cross the road. On the outskirts of town she hit the turn signal. Sam muffled a groan. He should have known the reprieve wouldn’t last. After the kid fiasco yesterday she’d taken him to dozens of backwoods

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