Sheriff. Laura ScottЧитать онлайн книгу.
resentment twisted, turned into something softer. Regret? Seeing him again, she hated to admit that maybe things weren’t as finished as she’d wanted them to be. Just looking at him standing there, so big and strong and formidable, wreaked havoc with her emotions.
Erupting her buried feelings to the surface where they had the power to hurt her all over again.
* * *
Brody’s pulse still pounded at how Julianne had nearly been shot to death right in front of his eyes.
What was she doing here? As far as he knew, she hadn’t stepped foot in the Lone Star State since joining the FBI academy six years ago.
“Thanks for helping.” Julianne’s clipped voice was colder than the Clover River in January.
“Hey, what are friends for?” He grinned, but she didn’t smile back. Her long ebony hair was pulled back from her face and her large dark eyes, a legacy from her Puerto Rican father, never made it easy to guess what she was thinking.
She wore khaki slacks paired with a dark shirt, a small FBI K-9 logo over the left breast pocket. He’d known Julianne had left Texas to attend the academy but hadn’t known the FBI had a K-9 unit. Or that she’d joined it. Although she always had loved dogs.
She frowned. “How did you get here so fast?”
He lifted a brow. As the sheriff he was the one who should be questioning her about what she was doing trampling through the woods in his county. “I was following the prison van.” Then he scowled at where the van sat stationary in the road, the dead driver slumped over the steering wheel. “Obviously not closely enough.”
If Julianne thought his actions strange, she didn’t say anything. This wasn’t the time to bring up how he’d intended to watch his former best friend, Nathan Otwell, walk into the maximum security prison for himself. It had taken Brody a long time to gather the evidence he needed to prove his former juvie roommate had actually participated in luring troubled young men and women into drug running, prostitution and human slavery.
Several months of fourteen-hour days, because he hadn’t wanted to believe it.
Until he’d seen the evidence with his own eyes.
“I’m sorry the prisoner got away.” She swiped a hand across her forehead. “He must have had a backup plan.”
He nodded, glancing curiously at her dog, sitting straight up at her side. When faced with a stranger, he didn’t bark, aside of the weird howl he’d let out.
What had she called him? Thunder?
“Excuse me, I need to call this in.” She slid her service weapon into her hip holster and then pulled a mobile phone from her pants pocket.
“Wait a minute. Are you here in Clover on official business?” Brody scowled. The feds were supposed to notify local law enforcement when they were doing an investigation.
As a courtesy at the very least.
But he hadn’t been told anything at all about an FBI investigation taking place in his county. Which was why he’d been shocked to find Julianne facing the wrong side of a gun.
“Yes.” She didn’t elaborate, which only added fuel to the slow burn of anger and resentment in his belly.
What, had he really thought she’d come back to find him after six years?
No, of course not. He’d given up on that foolish hope a long time ago. She’d made her decision, one that hadn’t included him.
“Max? It’s Julianne. I have a situation.” A brief pause as she listened, then nodded. “Okay.”
Brody ground his teeth, wondering who Max was. Her partner? Or a personal friend? Something more than a friend?
He cocked his head, listening to the sound of someone making their way through the woods.
A tall, muscular man with short blond hair emerged from the brush, a caramel-brown female boxer at his side. The man’s rugged face bore a concerned look. “Julianne? What happened? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” There was a sharp edge to her tone. “I would have gotten the assailant if he hadn’t been wearing body armor.”
“Who are you?” the man, who he guessed was Max, demanded, noticing Brody.
“Clover County Sheriff Brody Kenner.” Brody folded his arms across his chest. “Who are y’all? And what brings the FBI to my neck of the woods?”
He didn’t appreciate the silent exchange Julianne shared with Max.
“FBI Special Agent in Charge, Max West.” The fed stepped closer and offered his hand. “My partner, Opal, and this is Agent Julianne Martinez and her partner, Thunder.”
Brody shook Max’s hand, more pleased than he had a right to be to know his former flame wasn’t married. “I know Julianne, we went to college together.”
“I see.” Max glanced at Julianne who still wasn’t smiling.
“A guy I sent to prison just escaped,” Brody continued. “His associate came after Agent Martinez. He took a shot at her, but thankfully missed, although not by much.”
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Max asked, reaching out to put a hand on Julianne’s arm.
She shook off his grip. “I’m fine, but Brody is right. I witnessed the prison break. The perp who shot at me killed the van driver. I managed to hit him in the arm so all the hospitals in a hundred-mile radius need to be put on alert.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Brody assured her. Using his radio, he notified his dispatcher to put all the deputies on notice. He also ordered roadblocks on every major highway and for his deputies to follow up with the law enforcement agencies and hospitals located nearby. From the way the gunman had been bleeding, he felt sure the guy wouldn’t last too long without medical care. Lastly, he requested several of his deputies to report to this location in order to attend to the crime scene.
When he finished he overheard Julianne and Max speaking in low tones.
“Y’all still haven’t told me what you’re doing here.” Brody stepped up, making it clear he wasn’t going to be ignored.
“Following up a lead,” Max said, resting his hand on his boxer’s head.
Brody bit back a flash of impatience. Why the secrecy? “What kind of lead? Who are you looking for?”
Once again, Julianne and Max exchanged a long look, as if debating how much to tell him.
He scowled, crossed his arms over his chest and waited.
“The information I’m about to tell you is classified, understand?” Max said. Brody nodded his agreement, so he continued, “We’re part of the FBI Tactical K-9 Unit, working a case related to one of our agents, Jake Morrow, who went missing several weeks ago.”
“Missing?” He frowned. How often did FBI agents, especially those in some sort of secret elite team, go missing? “That’s strange.”
“I don’t disagree. We’re here because we received an anonymous tip via a disposable cell phone, one that we were unable to trace, that Jake is being held in a secluded cabin in the area,” Julianne explained. “We’re not sure who our informant is, but we’re determined to check out each clue no matter how improbable, so if you don’t mind, we need to get back to work.”
“I’m afraid I do mind,” Brody drawled.
She ignored him, looking at her superior. “What did you find at your cabin?”
“Opal didn’t alert on anything. It’s deserted and looks as if it’s been that way for a long time.”
“Okay, then that leaves the cabin here as the primary search zone.” Julianne pulled some sort of computer-engineered map out of