HeroRevealed (2 page)

Chapter Two

Brett took the corner at fifty miles an hour and accelerated
out of the curve. The Crown Victoria held its ground as if it sensed her
determination and didn’t dare lose traction on the slippery pavement.

The parking lot in front of Cedar River Sport and Marine was
empty of vehicles since the first guided raft tours didn’t gather until nine.
If she didn’t strike now, it would be well after dark before she could question
her suspect. The suspense was already grinding away at her concentration,
spreading like poison ivy in an itch that desperately ached to be scratched.

A chime over the door announced her entrance. Harlan
Kilsgaard, the proprietor, lifted his head from the morning paper and smiled in
greeting. In his red-and-black flannel shirt, he looked like Santa Claus out
for a spot of hunting. “Hello, Sheriff. You’re a lovely sight on this dreary
morning.”

Normally a comment like that made by a man from Cedar was
loaded with the expectation that she should bat her lashes and accept the
compliment like a pat on the head for being a good girl, but Harlan had always
treated her with the respect due to her position.

“Morning, Harlan.” She smiled and wove her way through the
display of fishing rods and canoe paddles and wet her lips with the tip of her
tongue in anticipation.

“I heard you had quite a night with those biker gangs traveling
through town. I hope they won’t be passing this way again. Coffee?” He pointed
to the urn behind him.

“No, thanks.” She was so amped up she’d probably slosh the
dark liquid all over the front of her coat. Wouldn’t that make an excellent
impression? “Unfortunately I don’t think we’ve seen the last of them, but
they’ll think twice before stopping.”

His wide smile bunched his white-whiskered cheeks. “I bet
they will. So, what can I do for you?”

Now that the moment arrived, the words froze on her lips
until she forced them out in a rasp. “I need to speak with your nephew.”

“Lucian?”

“No.” She swallowed hard. “The other one.”

She hated to say his name out loud. Her tongue couldn’t help
but caress each syllable like a lover. When niceties commanded she address him
by name, the dimple would crease in his cheek and his eyes sparkled with an
unholy light, as if he had super powers and was able to pull from her mind the
illicit fantasies she refused to act upon.

“Kristos?” A deep, lyrical voice spoke from behind her.
“What has my brother done?”

Lucian stood in the doorway to the storeroom. The eldest
Kilsgaard brother was a drool-worthy hunk of man who had almost every woman
under the age of eighty making comments about being the sole object of his
regard. What Brett admired most about Lucian wasn’t his incredible good looks
but his kindness. He was respectful and spoke to her as a person, not a silly
female. Honor and chivalry bled from his every pore. Women wanted him and men
admired him.

Brett heaved a mental sigh. Oh, why couldn’t her nightly
fantasies be about Lucian? While she wasn’t in a position to enter into any
type of personal relationship, at least Lucian endeavored to be an upstanding
member of the community, while his brother was the delicious bad boy, riding
the rapids with an abandon bordering on suicide. Kristos lived as if there were
no tomorrow, no responsibilities and no consequences. His ability to squeeze
the enjoyment out of living down to the fleshy pulp drew his own large share of
admirers. Most of them young and so bubbly they frothed over the tops of their
shirts and out the bottom of their too-short shorts, which was why she became
confused whenever his smoky gaze fixed on her. Why did he find her, an
overworked sheriff, struggling to maintain the respect of the community,
fascinating?

She’d never find out, because Kristos Kilsgaard was an
indulgence she couldn’t afford.

She straightened her spine and asked, “I have a few
questions for him. Is he near?”

Doubt darkened Lucian’s eyes. “He’s in the back, preparing
the kayaks.”

“Thanks. If I don’t see you again, have a good morning,
Lucian. Harlan.”

She circled the front of the store, slowing her steps as she
approached the corner. Sometimes she imagined he had super hearing the way he
always seemed to know when she was near.

With the rough-planked siding at her back, she crept closer,
hoping for a moment of silent observation before alerting him to her presence.

“Good morning, Brett.”

Damn it, how did he do that? She sucked in a breath for strength
and stepped around the corner, and promptly swallowed her tongue when he came
into view.

The morning sun highlighted the blue in his thick, black
hair, making it look as soft as a panther’s pelt. He was the definition of
tall, dark and dangerous with his muscular build, confident stance and the
double ring tattoo circling his bulging biceps. Adding to the air of danger was
the wide scar bisecting the two bands. It looked as if a pipe had been heated
and pressed to his skin, which had to have hurt. The mark matched the set of
scars crisscrossing his back, which she only noticed because he often went
shirtless, and not because the play of muscles made her lips burn with the need
to soften the marks with wet kisses.

His thumbs pulled at the loops of his jeans, drawing her
gaze to his flat stomach and well-worn fly. Her throat grew tight as she
imagined cuffing him to her bed and licking every deliciously carved bronze
inch. He sucked in a sharp breath and those pale-green eyes Conkle called weird
seemed to see right into the heart of her, daring her to live out her most
secret desires.

With all the grace of a newborn colt she stumbled forward
and blurted, “What do you think you’re doing?”

He gestured to the kayaks waiting on the river bank. His
lips curled in that smug, obnoxious grin she itched to slap—or kiss—away. “My
job?”

“I’m talking about last night and the week before. You’re
apprehending my suspects before I can and it has to stop.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He cocked a dark
eyebrow and replied with an accent as rich as hot fudge sliding warm and sweet
down her spine.

“Don’t mistake me for an idiot. I know who you are.”

“I should hope so. I ask you out at least twice a week. I’m
starting to think you don’t like me.” He chuckled and tilted his head with a
frown. “You appear tired. Are you sleeping well? Come share a meal with me. How
about we take the day off and go out to the lake for a picnic?”

“What? No—” She scowled and regrouped. “Whatever game you’re
playing stops now. I will not allow a civilian to interfere in police
business.”

“Ahhh.” He brushed his finger alongside his nose. “You must
be speaking of the vigilante I’ve been hearing whispers about. If you see him
again, give him my thanks. You need someone to look out for your welfare.”

“It’s my job to take that risk. I will not allow such
disrespect to continue.”

“I mean no disrespect with my words, Brett. I’m quite aware
of your strengths, however it pains me to think your light might be
extinguished from this world before you’ve experienced all of the treasures she
can provide, and I want to share them with you.” His voice dropped an octave
and her body trembled under his hypnotic spell.

Was his ability to make her melt and want to commit murder
at the same time a gift or a curse?

He drifted closer, swaying in that way rock stars use to
seduce their fans. Heat shimmered between them in waves, like sunlight hitting
molten pavement. Her eyelids grew heavy as her limbs melted, softening in
preparation of molding to his muscled contours. Under her thick down jacket,
her nipples tightened, ready for his touch, and her hips shifted as wetness and
heat pooled between her thighs. She was lost, drowning in the sea of lust
radiating from his eyes and the promising pout of his lips.

“Why? Why are you doing this?” she whispered. “What do you
want from me?”

A dimple appeared near the corner of his mouth. “I thought
you knew. Apparently I’ve been too subtle.” He leaned close, his chest brushing
her coat. “I want you, Brett. All of you. I want your passion, your regard. I
want you to loosen your tightly bound control and come apart in my arms with my
name falling from your lips like a prayer.” He ran the tip of his finger over
her cheek. “I do love the way you say my name.”

Cold air hit the back of her throat as she sucked in a huge
breath, breaking the spell he wove with the sensuous grace that was pure
Kristos. She shook her head and stepped back. “Wow. Such poetic words from a
river rat. No wonder you have so many women lining up for what you dish out.”

Crap. She mentally grimaced at the ugly snap in her tone.
Why couldn’t she wrestle her jealous shrew into submission? Kristos was a sexy
man. His raw sexuality wasn’t something he could turn off and on like a light.
It wasn’t entirely his fault that women responded to him with such shameless
abandon, and she had made it perfectly clear she didn’t want him. Lie that it
was.

She wanted him so bad she sometimes trembled with the need
and found herself, on occasion, with her keys in hand, ready to seek out his
touch.

Kristos was like a well-aged bottle of bourbon. Hot and
fiery as he slid over her tongue and down her throat, his heat permeating every
fiber in her body with a sensuousness that stole all rational thought until she
craved nothing but pure pleasure. Then the next morning would come the killer
hangover and the painful pounding headache to remind her why she didn’t drink
in the first place.

He scowled as she retreated farther away. “That’s not fair
and you know it. Those women don’t appeal to me, and do you know why?” He
stalked toward her with purpose. Those big shoulders rolled with each step
until he backed her against the side of the building, his heat and power
invading her personal space. Crowding her further, he leaned closer so they were
nose to nose. The warmth of his breath brushed her lips in a promise. “They’re
not you. You, Brett, are truly special.”

A more naive woman would take his pretty, cultured speech as
gospel and fall immediately in love with him. However, cynicism came with the
uniform. She worked hard for her badge, and Kristos was always encouraging her
to blow off her responsibilities. It took mutual respect and limitless patience
to make a relationship work, qualities neither of them possessed.

Damn him for making her wish she were a different person
than who she was.

She stuck a finger in his face. “This is my only warning.
Stay out of police business. If I see you anywhere near a crime scene, I will
Tase you. Do you understand?”

To keep him from seeing her shaking hands, she grasped her
belt and stalked back to her squad car. Gravel shot from the tires as she sped
down the road and away from her fondest desire. Her mother would call her crazy
for walking away from the promise in his eyes. She, herself, questioned her own
sanity during long nights spent all alone. Kristos didn’t understand. Her
mother never understood.

Cops did not make the best life partners. The hours were
grueling, the pressure mentally breaking, and the few relationships that
survived carried the possibility of being cut short by a gunman’s bullet, just
like what happened to her parents.

Since becoming sheriff her life had become a never-ending
wave of uncertainty. She was still settling into a new community and battling
the stereotype of sexism that should have gone out of style with parachute
pants. The challenges she faced commanded one hundred percent of her attention,
and Kristos said it himself. He wanted all of her, and she didn’t have it to
give.

That didn’t mean walking away from him didn’t hurt like a
son of a bitch.

Her cell rang, reminding her there was more going on in the
world than Kristos and his flirtations. She put in her earpiece and answered,
“Sheriff Briggs.”

“Sheriff, it’s Marjorie Anderson. Do you have a moment?”

“Certainly, Mrs. Anderson. How was the wedding?”

“Oh, it was so lovely. Thank you for asking. The flowers
were simply beautiful and the dress, exquisite. I must have taken at least a
thousand pictures. But I’m calling to thank you for catching that criminal who
broke into the house last night.”

Pride filled her chest, making her sit straighter in her
seat. This was why she loved her job. Knowing she was keeping her community
safe made all the long, shitty nights worth the stress.

“Well you’re welcome, Mrs. Anderson. Helping others is why I
love what I do.”

“And we’re lucky to have you. And that masked man I heard
was there too. If you see him again, will you send him my way? I want to make
him a batch of my prize-winning brownies.”

She barely held back the curse that sprang to her lips. “I—
I’ll see what I can do,” she lied in a tight voice.

“Wonderful. Thanks again, Sheriff.”

With a deep sigh, she shook her head.
Jiminy Christmas.

Her belly craved something sweet and decadent. Since Kristos
was off the menu, she drove toward the next best thing, a slice of chocolate
cream pie at Betty Sue’s Diner. Who cared if it was early? She needed it after
the last twelve hours.

The jingle of brass bells and the aroma of bacon and coffee
greeted her as she opened the door to Cedar’s most popular establishment. As
usual, her entrance garnered the attention of every patron. Since the minute
she’d donned the badge of sheriff, she’d been questioned on everything from her
moral values to her sexual orientation. Not once had she been asked about her
views on public safety or how she planned on improving police procedure.

“Morning, Sheriff. Any word on that masked stranger? I hear
he’s physically impressive.”

Ah yes, because when facing a potentially dangerous
individual, she always stopped to admire their muscles.