Ambushed at Christmas Read online

  “Yes. Thank you.” Leah must’ve zoned out there for a second.

  “And for you?” Sunny’s smile widened when she looked at Deacon, who didn’t look up from the menu.

  “I would, thanks.”

  “Cream and sugar?” she asked.

  “Black.”

  “Same for me,” Leah said, unable to suppress a satisfied smirk. Based on the look on Sunny’s face, she wasn’t used to being anything other than the center of attention from male patrons.

  It was probably just the smart girl in her that wanted to prove brains could be beautiful. She’d been gawky and awkward in high school and losing her friend made her want to disappear even more. Leah’s mother used to tell her that she could’ve been beautiful if she’d put in the effort. Even a successful businesswoman could prize looks over substance, Leah had realized.

  Wow, what had her examining her past like this out of the blue? There was something about the Jillian Mitchell case that hit too close to home.

  Leah pretended to focus on the menu but she was really lost in her own thoughts, ever aware of the strong male presence sitting across from her. She was surprised to find him staring at her when she looked up.

  “Everything’s good here. It’s all farm to table,” she said, trying to detract attention away from the blush crawling up her neck.

  “Wrong foot. Wrong MO,” he suddenly said to her.

  Chapter Six

  Sunny walked up with two cups of coffee. She bent closer to Deacon, showing her considerable cleavage and Leah was certain she heard a harrumph sound when Deacon had no reaction.

  Leah picked up her cup and took a swig, the hot coffee a welcome burn on her throat. She needed a clear head if she was going to make progress on the investigation and keep her thoughts from wandering into unwelcomed territory when it came to Deacon.

  As soon as Sunny took their orders and disappeared, Deacon’s gaze settled on Leah.

  “You picked up on that.” She referred to the wrong foot. It was easy to see that a different MO had been used.

  He nodded and then sipped his coffee. “The scenario at our ranches doesn’t fit the Porter’s Bend Killer. But a man’s in jail.”

  “Eyewitness places him in the park. He has a violent past,” she said.

  “Was a murder weapon recovered?” he asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Then it’s a flimsy case at best,” he said. “They won’t be able to hold the guy for long.”

  “His background is an issue for him.” She ran her finger along the rim of her coffee mug.

  “Meaning?” The statement got Deacon’s attention.

  “His crimes against women have been escalating. He has a decent-sized rap sheet.” She picked up the cup, rolling it in her palms for the warmth.

  “But chopping off someone’s foot seems harsh for someone who is escalating their violence,” he stated.

  “This case reads like a revenge killing to me. It’s violent and personal.” Her body shivered involuntarily, thinking about what had happened to Jillian Mitchell.

  “But why the foot?” Deacon’s brows crinkled in concentration. She didn’t want to think of the move as adorable. It helped that his face muscles tensed. It seemed to dawn on him. “The killer wants to send police on a wild-goose chase.”

  “A copycat who cut off a foot...” Leah didn’t finish her thought before she saw Charles walk into the restaurant out of the corner of her eye. Had Keeve alerted Charles to the fact that she was here? Son of a—

  Charles Dougherty made a beeline for her table. His gaze zeroed in on Deacon. Looking at her ex now, she couldn’t see what she’d ever seen in him. Friendship? Kinship? Comfort? Familiarity? Charles had been a sympathetic ear after being alone for two and a half years following the loss of Wyatt, a man she’d truly cared about. Raising a child on her own had been tough and she wasn’t making excuses, but after Charles lost his teenage daughter to a rare childhood cancer and then his wife walked out, Leah had felt for the guy.

  She’d needed a friend when Wyatt had died but she’d been pregnant and alone. Her only other friend at work, Susan, had a family of her own. Leah’s parents had all but disowned her after she’d refused to take care of the situation. She’d quickly told them that her baby wasn’t a situation. That had gone over about as well as the day she’d come home and declared her college major.

  She had been faced with bringing up a child alone with no support from her parents and no other family to speak of, since Wyatt had been brought up by grandparents who were long since dead. Wyatt had been twenty years her senior and she’d overheard her mother’s accusation that Leah had daddy issues days before she’d married him. Her parents hadn’t been fans of her husband, her marriage or her child. Connor was innocent in all this and it burned her up to think they could turn their backs on their only grandchild.

  Deacon turned, seeming to catch on to the heat being thrown off by Charles’s glare. Charles made quick strides to the table and then stopped. Deacon didn’t take his eyes off Charles but stood to greet him. Leah figured it was primal on his part because no one would stay sitting when a charging bull was coming toward him.

  Charles took a step back as he looked up at Deacon, who stuck his hand out and introduced himself. Deacon Kent could keep a calm head under pressure. Another thing she liked about him. The list of his good qualities was growing longer.

  “Detective,” Charles said to her.

  “What can we do for you?” Leah noticed that Charles’s previously puffed-out chest had deflated once he got a good look at Deacon. Deacon had a solid six inches in height on him, with a broad chest and stacked muscles.

  At five feet ten, Charles was one of the taller cops in the department. Most of her colleagues were a few inches shorter and beat cops even more so. Charles’s expression was still cocky, like he acknowledged that Deacon Kent had him in size but that Charles’s weapon evened the score a little bit. It didn’t.

  “Outside, Detective,” Charles barked, looking past Deacon, who moved to put his heft in between her and her ex.

  Deacon was smart enough to pick up on the tension radiating off Charles. The rancher had to know more was up between them than work.

  “Anything you have to say can be said inside the restaurant, Charles,” she said calmly. No reason to bait a bull. Charles was in a huff about something and she wondered how many of his buddies were watching her. The relationship between Leah and Charles had been over for a long time.

  Charles’s lips thinned and his gaze narrowed. He might not like her response but she wasn’t going outside with him.

  “Then take a walk with me.” His tone softened but his gaze hardened.

  “I’m having a cup of coffee. I’m fine sitting right here,” she said.

  Charles took a threatening step toward her. Deacon put his hand on Charles’s shoulder to stop him.

  “What do you say we head outside and talk man-to-man?” Deacon’s voice was a study in calm. No matter how menacing Charles’s demeanor had become, Deacon didn’t seem threatened in the least by it. That kind of confidence was yet another thing to add to the growing list of qualities Leah liked in Deacon. Once, she and Charles had been in a restaurant and another couple had been seated before them. Granted, it was a mistake on the hostess’s part. But Charles’s reaction had been over the top. Leah immediately wondered what he would have done if Connor misbehaved in front of him. Charles didn’t have patience and that was one of the many reasons the two were never introduced.

  Connor was an amazing kid. He was a good kid. But he was a kid. He had his moments.

  If Charles couldn’t have patience with a hostess who was doing her best, how on earth would he handle the trials of a kid? His attitude had developed later, and he clearly wasn’t dealing with his emotions from losing a child. That’s the way Leah viewed potential mates now. How wo
uld they handle Connor? Because a great kid deserved to have amazing men in his life.

  “I don’t have any business with you,” Charles fired back.

  “Anything you have to say to me can be said in front of my friend,” Leah said.

  “Fine.” Charles crossed his arms over his chest and placed his feet a few feet apart in an athletic stance. He had an athletic build. He was mostly arms and chest. He was neither overly good-looking nor overly bad looking. He had brown hair and almost black eyes with a slightly bulbous nose, which was pug-like. His skin was tan and clear, and a lot of the women at the station perked up when he entered a room, their voices a flirtier pitch. He dressed more like he was on SWAT than as a detective. Not being able to use his size to intimidate Deacon Kent must have been very frustrating. Charles had a sharp wit and a sharper tongue. If there truly were a good cop/bad cop routine, Charles would have been the bad cop. Had that been the initial pull? He was good-looking by most standards and came off as emotionally detached. He wasn’t, though. In fact, she’d quickly realized that underneath the layers of bulldog exterior he was insecure. That was the reason he yelled at hostesses who made innocent mistakes. His tactic worked with some types of people in investigations. It just wasn’t the tact she took with people if she could avoid it. Her touch was lighter and she figured she got more information out of people that way. What was that old saying about catching more flies with honey? She was honey. Charles was fire.

  “What were you doing at the morgue earlier?” Charles asked outright.

  That question caught her off guard.

  “Taking my witness to identify my Jane Doe.” She should’ve told him that it was none of his business but being uncooperative wouldn’t get her very far and she did have to face Charles at work. Their relationship was on bad enough footing as it was and she didn’t want to make it worse. She decided to play innocent. “Why? What’s up?”

  “I think we both know.” Charles shot daggers at her with his eyes.

  “That only makes one of us and it’s not me.” She kept her voice calm and even.

  “Mitchell is my case, Cordon.” He would only use her last name to let her know just how angry he was. As though his charging bull routine hadn’t already done the trick.

  “Understood, Charles.” She refused to play at his game. Using his first name was meant to remind him that they were on personal terms, a fact he seemed to have conveniently forgotten.

  “I’ll take you to the chief if I hear you’re inserting yourself in one of my cases.” Charles’s threat didn’t scare her.

  “I’d do the same if the situation were reversed,” she said.

  “Well, I’m not digging around in yours so you have nothing to worry about.” He didn’t care about her asking T-Rex a few questions this morning. This was personal because she was with Deacon Kent. It might’ve been a mistake to bring him to the diner. To be fair, Charles didn’t normally come here and that was one of the reasons she liked the place so much.

  Leah glanced around and saw that her table had become somewhat of a show. If people stared any harder, she’d have to start selling tickets.

  “Keep it that way,” Charles muttered.

  “Or what?” Deacon seemed to have hit his limit. His voice was calm but there was an underlying threat there.

  Charles seemed to pick up on it, too. He also seemed to know when he was beat. “I don’t have a problem with you. This is work talk, which was why I wanted to take it outside in the first place so as not to bother anyone else.”

  “Work talk? Really? Because it sounds personal to me,” Deacon said. “I’d never talk to a coworker like that without expecting some backlash and I sure as hell would show more respect.”

  His voice might be calm and collected but his message was clear: back off.

  Charles took a physical step backward. “Where do I know your name from?”

  “Probably from my family business, Kent Ranch,” Deacon said. His last name was powerful. Leah realized the full impact of it when Charles’s demeanor changed. A flash of something—fear?—crossed his eyes. The Kent name opened doors. It was known by everyone in Texas and that most likely meant politicians, too. Since the police chief reported to the mayor who reported to the governor, Charles seemed to realize the magnitude of the stink a Kent could create in a politically charged situation. Charles had enough sense to back down.

  He put his hands up as though in surrender. “No harm. No foul.”

  * * *

  DEACON HAD NO designs on Leah. He’d stand up for any person being bullied. Not that Leah was a wilting flower or needed his help. She’d made it clear that she could take care of herself. Still, he sensed this guy had the upper hand where they worked and Deacon couldn’t sit back and watch the guy throw his weight around.

  Plus, he saw jealousy for what it was. A stab of it hit him the second he’d realized that Charles Dougherty and Leah had gone out. He had no idea the extent of their relationship, but it was pretty damn clear that Leah had ended it and Charles was still licking his wounds.

  Watching the man apologize before he excused himself gave Deacon no satisfaction, considering he didn’t like the fact she’d dated the guy at all. That thought sat sour in Deacon’s gut and there was no reason for it.

  Charles was clear of the building before Deacon reclaimed his seat. Sunny had brought their plates over and set them down the minute Charles had turned toward the door.

  “We dated,” Leah finally said.

  “I know.”

  “It was obvious, wasn’t it?” She pushed scrambled eggs around on her plate.

  “I’d have to be blind not to see it.” Deacon didn’t like the feeling of jealousy hammering him. It was out of place. The detective could date anyone she wanted. It wasn’t his business.

  “It ended months ago, but—”

  “You don’t owe me any explanations,” Deacon interrupted. Damn, his armor was up.

  “I know,” she said quickly. Too quickly. A red blush heated her cheeks. It was beautiful and more than a little sexy. But it wasn’t something Deacon should have allowed himself to notice under the circumstances. “I think I just want to say it out loud for myself. I mean, I’m not sure why I ever went out with him in the first place.” She looked everywhere but at Deacon.

  “We all make mistakes,” he said, giving her an out.

  “This one affects my career, you know? And I need my job now more than ever.” She pushed hash browns around with her fork.

  “Why did you become a detective?” There was an air to her that made him think she came from family money.

  “To upset my parents.” She broke into a smile despite the heavier conversation a few minutes ago. “At least, that’s what they’d tell you.”

  Was this a rebellious rich girl? Of course, people could say something similar about Deacon. He’d made no secret out of sowing wild oats until he’d met Jackie, a single mother, and had changed his wild ways.

  “You don’t strike me as the insubordinate type,” he said. “Don’t they see the impact you make in the community with your job?”

  “Apparently, I am.” She rolled her eyes. “And no. They haven’t agreed with anything I’ve done since I dropped off the debate team in favor of staying in my room alone.”

  He couldn’t imagine having a family that didn’t support his decisions. The Kents had their problems but they stuck together. “Sounds lonely.”

  That comment struck a chord based on the way she flinched. Hell, he hadn’t meant to make her uncomfortable.

  “I got used to it.” She scraped her two front teeth across her bottom lip. “After I lost my best friend, I didn’t really care about hanging out. You know? I was in high school and it seemed like all anyone could think about was who was hosting the next party. None of that ever really mattered to me and especially not after losing Millie. Her real name
was Mildred and she hated it. She thought it made her sound old, so she went by Millie.” Her eyes had a lost quality when she spoke about her friend and Deacon could relate. “Long story short, my parents said I was depressed after Millie died. They thought a therapist could fix me. But I just changed after that experience. Nothing was the same after that. You know?” She seemed to catch herself as she glanced up at him and blushed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to unload my family problems on you.”

  He liked that she’d confided in him, told him something real about herself. And maybe it was the all-too-familiar pain of losing someone that had drawn him to the detective in the first place.

  “I’m sorry you had to go through that. No one should and especially not someone so young. I can imagine that would change the way you looked at life, at what was important, from a young age.” He looked into her serious eyes and wondered if they’d ever been carefree. Life-changing moments like those altered people. Leah had been through hell, make no mistake about it. Deacon could read between the lines. The detective’s friend most likely had been murdered, and the loss, the isolation had driven her to a career in law enforcement. Deacon knew from his sheriff cousin that everyone who worked in the field had a story. Some were more dramatic than others, but each had a story to tell about why they’d been drawn to the job.

  He shouldn’t let knowing hers crack the casing around his heart. He shouldn’t listen to the voice telling him to comfort her. He shouldn’t take her hand in his, but he did.

  After a few seconds, Deacon withdrew his hand.

  Leah blinked up at him and then asked, “How do you feel about jailhouse coffee?”

  Chapter Seven

  Deacon needed a mental slap as he paid the bill and walked into the frigid morning air. A few minutes ago when Leah’s hand had been in his and he felt the smooth creamy skin of her delicate wrist, he’d had a few unholy thoughts. His gaze had dipped down to her lips...and he’d had to catch himself right then.