To Bedevil A Beauty (Southern Sanctuary - Book 5) (15 page)

Instantly,
every instinct he had flared. All his attention zeroing to the left. Clashing
with the gaze of the man who’d just rounded the corner of the building, moving
silently.  The stranger came to an abrupt halt at the edge of the patio,
only the slight widening of his eyes for a split second indicating that he was
surprised to find Ramsey seated there, glaring his way.

Ramsey
recognised him instantly, from the woods.  He was one of the three men who
moved through the terrain like ghosts, from Hidden Cove, Berry’s Dad had
said.
 
Ramsey gave him a wary nod of
acknowledgement.  “You’re the wrong gender if you’re here for the party.”

The
other man hesitated for another moment before continuing his approach across
the empty patio towards Ramsey.  “I came by to speak with you
Hughes.”  His voice low and husky.  Pitched only slightly louder than
a whisper.

“Then
why so surprised to see me?”  Ramsey questioned warily, shifting his
weight slightly, getting ready to spring forward and tackle the newcomer if
needed.

The
Hidden Cove guy laughed abruptly, a rough sound, as though he didn’t do it
often.  “I suppose you could say I was caught off guard for a
moment.  That’s twice now.”

Ramsey
hid a frown, cryptic much?  He gestured to the empty seat across from
him.   “Talk.”

Hidden
Cove guy nodded, taking a seat in the chair indicated, his movements so
graceful, it was almost as if he was being careful not to disturb the air
around him.  “I’m Sinclair.” 

The
man was tall, only an inch or so smaller than Ramsey, though perhaps Sinclair
was a little broader across the chest.  He wore dark jeans, a long sleeved
top and boots. His hair was so dark brown only the bright overhead sun kept it
from appearing black as it fell to Sinclair’s shoulders in a choppy mess. 
Several days’ growth of beard clung to his jaw, suggesting he hadn’t rested
much since the day of the shooting. His dark green eyes appraised Ramsey with a
decidedly curious look. 

“You
might as well call me, Ramsey.”  He acknowledged Sinclair with a nod of
greeting.  “You have news about the trail leading into Hidden Cove for
me.”

“Yes,
I have information.”  There was something about the way Sinclair spoke
that led Ramsey to believe news regarding the Sanctuary intruders was not the
only reason Sinclair had sought him out today.  “We found a second camping
site in an old cave a klick and a half along the coast from the cove.”

“I’ll
send some of my men over to take a look.”

Sinclair
shook his head.  “Don’t bother, it floods every high tide.  The guy
is long gone.  The only thing of note we found before the water came in to
obliterate any evidence, was this.”  Sinclair laid a small plastic bag
containing a crumpled cigarette packet on the table.

“Any
idea where this guy is headed?  Or where he might be hiding out now?”

Sinclair
shook his head again. “We’re still looking.  The bushland is dense and
scrubby.  We can confirm from the way the man moves around so erratically,
that we believe, as David Malone suggested, that the individual we are tracking
is highly unpredictable and completely driven.”

“You
guys can really tell that from just studying his trail?”  Ramsey was
partly sceptical, yet he’d already witnessed so many unexplained phenomena at
the Sanctuary.

“His
tread is heavy, he intentionally breaks branches, pulverises flowers. 
This man has a lot of anger, rage, yet at the same time he is very devious,
smart even.
 
The cave was a good
temporary hiding place.”

“A
smart angry lunatic with a gun wandering around loose is not good news.” 
Ramsey gritted out.

“My
men won’t stop looking for him.”  Sinclair promised.

“Your
men?”

“My
brothers, cousins, others in the Hidden Cove community.  We have as much
invested in keeping the Southern Sanctuary safe as anyone else in the
district.”

“That’s
good to hear.  But if you guys do find this man, then you need to keep
your distance, contain, call me, don’t approach.”

“Of
course.”  Sinclair’s agreement was too abrupt, given too quickly.

“Now
why don’t I believe you?”  Ramsey enquired.  “I get you guys like
your privacy and are probably used to taking local matters in to your own
hands, but the shooting changes things.  We need to capture and question
this guy.  Find out who else is involved. Where they are hiding and why
they are after Judge Malone.  Vigilante justice won’t get us the answers
we need.”

Sinclair
nodded slowly.  “We don’t like strangers here period, but yes, I agree,
answers would be nice.  I’ll instruct my men.”

Ramsey
nodded.  “Good.”  Silence enveloped them for a minute. 
“Something else on your mind?”

Sinclair
shifted slightly, Ramsey noted it because it was the first random movement the
other man had made since sitting down across from him.  For some reason
Sinclair was ill at ease or unsure about what he wanted to discuss next. 
“I understand you’re from Melbourne?”

Okay,
Ramsey had not been expecting a personal question, but still it was hardly a
secret.  “Born and raised.”

“As
was your father?”  Sinclair’s green eyes stared hard as Ramsey nodded
assent, as if the question he was asking was far from casual.
 
“What about his father, your
grandfather?  Do you remember much about him?”

Ramsey
held back a scowl.  “Not really. He died a year or so before my mother,
when I was three or four.  I don’t think he was born in Australia. I don’t
know where he came from.
 
My Dad didn’t
like to talk about it.”

“Do
you recall his name?”

“Er,
Henry…Harry?  What’s with the twenty questions?”

“Hardison?” 
Sinclair supplied.

Ramsey
froze.  “How did you know that?”  

Sinclair
shrugged, a small reluctant smile playing at the edges of his lips.  “I
believe we’re related… I thought so the first moment I saw you in the woods,
you remind me of someone I know.”

Ramsey
instinctively shook his head.  No, this wasn’t possible.  He was alone
in this world. Had been since the moment his father had been hit by that car
just before he turned eighteen. No parents, no siblings, no aunts, uncles or
cousins… no ties.  It was just him.
 
Him and the job.
 
It had been that
way… what felt like forever.  “I don’t think so.”

Sinclair
didn’t appear fazed by Ramsey’s negative response.  “My great-grandfather
has requested a meeting with you, after the intruder has been caught and Berry
Malone is safe.”

Ramsey
remained still, dwelling on Sinclair’s ridiculous statement.  What were
the odds of him taking this job at the Southern Sanctuary?  Of meeting up
with Sinclair, who lived in Hidden Cove and rarely ventured out or welcomed
strangers?  What were the chances of them being related?  Fuck, what
were the chances of them even meeting? 

It
was just one more coincidence to pile onto a load of pre-existing ones that
were threatening to collapse and smother him.  It was this fucking
town.  This district.  He hated coincidences with a - rather shoot it
and not bother to ask questions later – passion.  But still, a man wanders
up and claims to be related to him… didn’t make it a fact.

“Just
think about it.”  Sinclair contemplated Ramsey for a minute, the two of
them sitting there in absolute silence, stillness. 

Strangely,
it wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling, it felt as if the world around them kept
moving but that he and Sinclair were watchers… caretakers, and despite the
turmoil in his gut there was peace in that knowledge.
 
Sinclair abruptly pushed his chair back, rising to his
feet in one quick sudden motion.  Startling a woman and her companion
who’d been standing in the doorway debating whether to sit outside on the patio
or not. 

Sinclair
ignored their reaction but something about the way those people had jumped when
Sinclair had moved reminded Ramsey of something.  His eyes flicked to
Sinclair but he’d already disappeared around the corner of the building. 
Charming fellow. Suddenly it clicked, of course the couple’s reaction was so
darn familiar. It was the exact same one he got every time he made a sudden
move, as if prior to that moment he was invisible to the human eye.

Shit…
sullen, rarely cracking a smile, big guy, who can move quickly but had the
ability to remain still like a statue?  He wasn’t just describing
Sinclair… he was describing himself.

Just
what the hell was going on here?

Chapter
Thirteen

“I’m
not drunk.”
 
Berry ruined her
emphatic declaration by following it up with a giggle.
 

The
carefree unexpected sound made Ramsey smile as he escorted her off the
elevator, his arm wrapped gently around her waist.  Even with his support,
Berry still managed to stumble over her own feet.  Causing her to laugh
loudly and then hiccup.

“Whoops.”

“For…” 
Ramsey had had enough.  The way she was going, tipsy and wearing those
shoes she was going to break her neck.  Bending at the knees he swooped
her up into his arms.

“Whoa.” 
Berry gasped in surprise, before looking around in wonderment at her new
exalted position in the world.  “The air is pretty thin up here. I suppose
you’re used to it.”

“Yeah,
I’m used to it.”  Ramsey smiled, fumbling with his keys for a moment,
enjoying the feel of Berry’s lithe warm body in his arms just a little too
much.  Get a grip man.  Stop mooning over the girl.
 
You’re not even in the safety of the
apartment yet.  

His
hard won self-control was severely tested as Berry wriggled in his arms. 
Thankfully at that moment he found the right key. 

Striding
across the dark living room he quickly set her down by the sofa.  “I’ll
get some coffee organised… unless you want to go straight to bed?”

“It’s
not even eight o’clock, Hotshot. Besides, I’m not tired.”  She ignored
Ramsey as he strode into the kitchen turning on lights.  She was restless.
Several hours talking, laughing and drinking with her girlfriends had her
wired.  Goddess, there wasn’t even a television in this place. Then a
flicker out the corner of her eye caught her attention.  Oooh, the
balcony.

“Berry?” 
Ramsey sounded exasperated.  “Where do you think you’re going?  It’s
cold out there.”  Ramsey chased after her, halting when he spied her
getting comfortable on one of the outdoor sofas off to the side, in the process
of kicking off her shoes.  “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Movie?” 
She pointed off down the beach.

Ramsey
turned, right, it was Saturday night, movie night on the beach.  When a
humongous screen was set up on the sand and the locals bought chairs and
blankets to sit on the nearby grass to watch.  “You’ll freeze out
here.”  Ramsey warned.

“I
have my wrap.”  Berry pulled her bare feet under her and arranged her
bright red wrap so that it covered more of her.  “And sitting down here, I
can barely feel the breeze.”

Ramsey
continued to stand over her in indecision.  There was no way a sniper
could take her out on the balcony considering the awkward angle.  “There’s
no sound.”  He tried one last attempt.

“It’s
Rear Window, who needs sound for that?”

“Fine. 
Don’t move. I’ll get that coffee.”

Berry
scoffed a half exasperated laugh, half sigh.  “Whatever.  Just quit
it with the looming.”

Ten
minutes later Ramsey found himself seated next to Berry, sipping coffee and
watching Rear Window through the clear glass of the balcony railing. 
Hyper aware of Berry sitting next to him. The smell of her perfume tugging at
his senses, their body heat intermingling, even though several inches still
separated them.  It was a strangely intoxicating experience for him. 
Just to sit there, next to a beautiful woman on a cool Autumn evening and watch
a movie.  The feeling of how right this all was and the simplicity of the
moment kind of floored him.

He
tried to remember the last time he’d been on a date?  Not since he was a
teenager.  Even now he cringed in memory at the handful of unsuccessful
encounters, it hadn’t boded well that his sheer presence seemed to make his
dates ridiculously nervous. 

Then
in the last decade or so, as an undercover cop, his focus had shifted to the
job.  No time for dating.  Just brief, quick encounters with women
who’d revelled in what they perceived as the potential danger in hooking up
with a bad boy.  But they didn’t want to watch a movie with him, let alone
have a conversation.  They wanted the fleeting thrill of dangerous sex
with an equally dangerous man.  Once they had their moment, all too often
they scurried off back to their normal sheltered lives, filled with safe,
manageable, compatible men.  Most of them never even asking him his name.

Damn,
this place and this woman really were doing a mind fuck on him.  He
thought he’d been happy… satisfied, with his lot in life.  He was a
cop.  He caught the bad guys.  He didn’t get attached to people, make
friends or put any roots down.  He didn’t wish for things he couldn’t
have. 

Ramsey
bit back a groan as Berry shifted beside him, absently snuggling a little bit
closer, her arm brushing his.  Fuck, he hadn’t known he was missing out on
anything until he met Berry.  She made him want… crave more.  Not
just sex… it was more than that.  He liked… no, he loved talking with her;
getting her to laugh, bedevilling her and making those eyes of hers flash with
fire and emotion. He liked that she wasn’t afraid of him.  That she spoke
her mind.
 
That she called him Hotshot.
That she kept on insisting that he was flirting with her… and damn, if she wasn’t
right.  He hadn’t realised he was capable of flirting until he met Berry
Malone. 

He
liked how she tried to lay down the law with him, expecting him to
follow.  When was the last time someone… anyone, had tried to boss him
around?  Maybe Mrs Rossum in the fifth grade, just before his growth
spurt.

Absently
he watched Jimmy Stewart trying to handle Grace Kelly on the screen.  So
how should he handle Berry?  Could he convince her, despite her current
stance on men, to have a short term relationship with him?  And if he did,
when his six month contract was up, would he be able to walk away from
her?  Return to the lonely, isolated existence of undercover work? 
Not a question he thought he’d ever be asking himself six short weeks ago when
he’d first taken on the role of Southern Sanctuary Police Chief.

He
thought back to the moment Berry had been shot, ripped out of arms, spinning
away and falling to the ground, her blood splattering his face.  Not since
his dad had died had he felt so angry, so bereft… so very much.
 
Emotions had threatened to overwhelm
him.  Him?  The cool, calm cop. Who never flinched. Never got
involved.
 
Never let emotions cloud his
judgment. 

Damn,
what was he going to do about this… infatuation, was that the right word? 
Nah, it didn’t feel weighty enough to describe what he felt for Berry. 
Attraction?  Lust, was too cheap…. too fleeting. Admiration, nah, that was
too formal. 

Love…? 
What?  Absolutely not… that was way too… too permanent sounding. 

Shit,
he didn’t know what he felt for Berry Malone, but he was willing to take her on
any terms she was prepared to set.  Okay, so now for the hard part, he
just needed her to set the terms.  Glancing down at her, a rueful smile
played across his lips, of course now that he’d finally made a decision she’d
fallen asleep on him.

Here
he was, having a personal epiphany and she was fast asleep.  Her head
resting back against the sofa cushion, which had to be uncomfortable. Carefully
he shifted over slightly, his weight causing her head to loll to the side,
coming to rest on his shoulder.  He held his breath for a moment as she
muttered something in her sleep and then turned into him, snuggling even
closer.  He was probably going to burn in hell for this he decided with a
happy grin on his face as the credits began to roll for the next scheduled
film. Luckily he liked the heat.

*                        
*                     
*

Berry
woke with a small groan.  The room was full of dark shadows, it was too
early to get up she decided.  Eyes closed, she wriggled to get comfortable
and tried to go back to sleep but several thoughts started pinging around in
her head.  First and foremost, she couldn’t recall going to bed last
night.  Her last memory was of… being out on the balcony with Ramsey,
watching the seaside movie.  Hmmm, and then nothing. 

Instantly
her eyes shot open, the bed beside her was empty.  Thank the Goddess she
hadn’t done anything stupid.  She frowned, so how had she gotten to bed
last night?  And what… quickly she peeked under the covers to see what she
was wearing.  Oh how embarrassing, she was in her underwear, dark blue
satin tap pants and a matching tightly fitted camisole. 

Urgh,
she had a vague hazy memory of Ramsey helping her to her room last night and
her… what had she done?  Oh no… she’d sent him a taunting smile and
unsnapped one thigh high stocking, then the second before shimming out of her
dress and flinging it at him before diving under the covers, cackling like a
hyena.  What an ungrateful wretch she was. 

A
sudden gust of wind from outside and the splatter of rain against the glass
sliding doors bought her back to the present.  She also recalled Ramsey
forcing a glass of water and an aspirin down her throat before he let her
sleep.  Something she had to be thankful for this morning… no strike that,
her eyes found the clock.  How could it be almost three in the
afternoon?  She’d practically slept the day away. 

Tossing
the blanket back, she strode over to pull back the curtains and stare out at
the dark dismal wet Sunday afternoon.  The sea was choppy and grey, heavy
rain fell in sheets and the beach was eerily empty in all directions.  It
was tempting to dive back under the covers and huddle there until tomorrow
morning when it was time for her to go to work.  But she refused to be the
type of person who hid their head in the sand, never again. Resolutely she
headed for the bathroom. Time to get dressed for the day and face Ramsey Hughes
and apologise for her drunken behaviour.

Berry
was damning her sore arm twenty minutes later as she stared at herself in the
mirror.  Only a large plaster covered her wound now but she still couldn’t
lift her arm higher than her shoulder, which meant her mass of annoying hair
fell in a tumble of curls down over her shoulders.  Hmm, and there was
something about her hair down and the outfit she was wearing that bought the
term sex kitten to mind. 

Which
was ridiculous, talk about over active imagination.
 
It was probably just because the moss green fitted
cardigan she’d chosen to wear was cashmere, and looked so very soft.
 
Hmmm, determinedly she buttoned it all the
way to the top, then blew out a sigh and undid the top two buttons; she was
being silly.  It was just a cardigan for Heaven’s sake, and with the
fitted dark brown suede trousers and unappealing but decidedly fluffy and warm
brown socks she had on her feet, there was no way anyone could accuse her of
playing the role of seductress.  She had to be imaging things, brooding
over nothing, putting off having to face Ramsey.  Well, she pulled her
shoulders back, she had nothing to be truly sorry for… that she could
remember.  Damn, better to just issue a blanket apology and get it over
with.

“Hey.” 
Ramsey looked up from the kitchen counter as Berry walked into the living room.
For a split second he forget what he was doing, she looked gorgeous and far too
touchable.  “I heard you moving around and thought you might like
something to eat.”

Berry
hid her frown. So they were going to act like nothing had happened last
night?  Cool with her.  “I am kind of hungry.  I can’t believe
how late I slept.”

“It’s
that kind of day.”  Ramsey smiled.  “What do you like on your
crumpets?”

“Honey
usually.”  She looked over approvingly at the gas fireplace recessed into
the wall, flames flickering merrily in the grate, pushing back the gloominess
of the dark storm shadows trying to engulf the room.

“Coming
right up.”  He moved around the kitchen comfortably.  “Something to
drink?”

“Tea? 
Peppermint if you have it.” She watched him, trying not to admire the way his
faded jeans clung to his butt, reluctantly focusing instead on his - seen
better days - cream sweater, that made his eyes glow slate grey.  So big
deal, he was an attractive man, there was no ban on admiring the view, she just
wasn’t allowed to touch, and she’d better keep reminding herself of that fact.

Five
minutes later, Berry found herself curled up on the sofa directly across from
Ramsey, enjoying her second crumpet and sipping her tea whilst he sat reading
the newspaper.

“You’re
frowning.”  She noted.  “Is there a problem?”

“I
hadn’t realised until I read this article that one of prison escapees was an
ex-cop.”

“Someone
you know?”  Berry asked.

“No...
not really, but I was working on the case that got him pinged.”  He
frowned, it had been well over five years now since he’d closed down the
smuggling ring operating out of the Perth docks.  Gerard Bannon had been
one of a handful of dirty cops the smuggling ring had been paying to look the
other way and keep them apprised if anyone ever showed too much interest in
their activities. 

It
had been smart of the local law to tap Ramsey, an outsider, for the secret
operation, suspecting at the time that one or more of their officers had to be
on the traffickers’ payroll.  Ramsey supposed it was no surprise the guy
had ended up in a minimum security prison.
 
Incarceration was often a death sentence for ex-cops unless they were
provided with round the clock protection.  “Long time ago now.  Tell
me, does the name Previn Carlyle mean anything to you?”