Making It Right (A Most Likely To Novel Book 3) Read online

She smiled the way a woman did when she knew she’d grabbed a man’s attention. Besides, he couldn’t see her smile, he could only guess.

  “You’re the one who showed up uninvited. I have somewhere to be in half an hour.”

  “You didn’t like my donuts?”

  “Oh, I like your donuts all right,” she said to herself. She moved on to scrub the sweat from her body, wondered if there was any silhouette through the hotel shower curtain. “They were okay,” she said a little louder.

  She heard him laugh, saw a shadow pass by.

  She finished her shower and pulled a towel into the steam to quick dry her hair and covered herself before stepping out.

  Noise from the bedroom sounded a whole lot like someone tripping over a bed.

  Jo forced herself not to look. “You okay in there?”

  “Yep, um-hmm. I’m good. I’ll a . . . I’ll see if I can step up my pastry game next time.”

  She left her towel in place and took that moment to step to the open doorway.

  Gill was in the process of pulling the hem of his right pant leg over his sock.

  “You plan on bringing me breakfast every day I’m here?”

  The heat of his eyes, as they took in her frame, shot right to her belly.

  “I can be persuaded.”

  “I tried that last night.”

  His smile fell.

  “Besides, my best friend is a celebrity chef. You can’t beat what she delivers.”

  “This friend of yours a woman?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Then I can beat her.” Gill made his exit, called over his shoulder. “See you there.”

  They were on a tactical training course, something she would see one more time before leaving the facility on Friday. The students were working their way through several different real-life scenarios, from hostage situations to mass casualty gun violence.

  Jo watched from the sides as several students were placed into what she called an arena, where the instructors were beside them, guiding every move.

  Even watching managed to pump adrenaline like she’d remembered in her initial officer training.

  “Sheriff Ward?” One of the instructors tapped her shoulder.

  “Yes?”

  “You have a phone call.”

  She stood, reached for her back pocket, and realized she’d left her phone in her locker.

  Jo followed the instructor out of the arena perimeter and into a building. There, she picked up the phone and pushed the line where her call was waiting.

  “This is Sheriff Ward.”

  “Jo, oh, thank God I got ahold of you. You weren’t answering your cell.”

  The excitable voice of Glynis had images of her sitting behind the reception desk at the station with piles of papers stacked all around her.

  “I don’t have my phone with me in the field, Glynis. What’s going on?”

  “Deputy Emery is going to make a mess out of this dog situation. The man doesn’t like animals. Remember how he all but bullied the Swanson boy who lived next door to get his dog to stop barking when the other dogs in the neighborhood let loose after midnight?”

  “Glynis.”

  The woman kept talking as fast as humanly possible. “I swear when that little beagle went missing—”

  “Glynis!” Jo shouted this time.

  “No need to yell, Jo. I hear you.”

  Jo squeezed her eyes shut. “Start at the beginning. What dog situation are you talking about?”

  “You sound annoyed.”

  “I’m not annoyed.” Annoyed wasn’t a strong enough word.

  “I don’t think you’re telling the truth. I would have called the Millers, but Zoe and Luke took them to Los Angeles. The auto shop is closed for the first time in years.”

  “Zoe isn’t there? I just talked with her last night.” Jo had spilled all her guts and never even asked about her friend.

  “They’ve been in LA for two days. Did you call her cell?”

  “Yeah.” Jo shook her head. “Why would you call the Millers about the dog situation? And what situation is that?”

  “Cherie’s rottweiler mix had puppies again.”

  Cherie Miller, Luke’s single aunt, lived about a half a mile outside the main streets of River Bend and had at least eight dogs that Jo remembered counting the last time she’d called on the woman.

  Eight adult dogs plus a litter equaled a whole lot of noise for the neighbors, even if the closest one was a quarter of a mile away.

  “I had three messages waiting for me when I came in this morning. None of them wanted to call Deputy Emery.”

  Yeah, Jo wouldn’t want to call Karl Emery either. The man really didn’t like animals. Jo looked up to see Gill walking toward her.

  “Listen, Glynis, I’ll call Karl. And I’ll call Cherie.”

  “Good luck, she isn’t answering her phone. Probably doesn’t want to hear the complaints. It isn’t like she can’t hear the dogs going on and on.”

  Gill stood over Jo. “Is everything okay?” he asked in a low voice.

  Jo shook her head and rolled her eyes.

  “I’ll take care of it, Glynis.”

  “I knew you would. I’m sorry to bug you at your special camp.”

  “It’s not camp.”

  “Deputy Emery said it was camp.”

  Jo wanted to growl. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Okay, Jo. Sorry I had to bug you. You know—”

  “Glynis, I’m hanging up now.”

  “Oh, okay . . . of course. Have a great day.”

  Jo disconnected the call and leaned against the wall.

  “What was that all about?” Gill asked.

  “Glynis runs my office. Dispatch.”

  “One person?”

  Jo wanted to glare. “It’s a small town.”

  Gill smirked. “So what was the emergency?”

  She started to say something about the puppies, realized how stupid it would sound, and stopped herself. “Nothing,” she said instead.

  “Had to be something.”

  “Nothing important.” She pushed away from the wall and started back to the arena.

  Gill followed behind. “If you don’t want to tell me, fine, but you don’t have to lie about—”

  Annoyed, Jo stopped and turned. “Dogs, Gill. Barking dogs.” The absurdity of it had her laughing with tears threatening. “I’m called out of a tactical lesson where we’re learning defense techniques against a dozen possible suspects because one of the neighbors in River Bend thinks she’s running a dog breeding program. And my deputy hates dogs. Hates them, so Glynis thought calling me to solve the problem from three thousand miles away was a viable option.” Jo acknowledged the tear on her cheek by swiping it away with a fisted palm.

  “Hey . . .”

  Jo glanced toward the door leading back to the training grounds. “I shouldn’t be here. I’m never going to use any of this stuff in River Bend. Resolving neighborhood disputes and escorting the occasional drunk from R&B’s is the scope of my practice.” Her anger built as she spoke. Anger at herself.

  Anger at River Bend.

  Anger at the universe.

  “If you knew that, why did you sign up for this?”

  Even though Gill’s question came out soft, her response bordered on violent.

  “Because I can’t seem to find my father’s killer doing what I’ve been doing for the last eight years of my life. And doing this for the next eight years sounds like my worst kind of hell.”

  She felt another tear, shoved it away with a fist, and stared at the door.

  Instead of joining the team, she turned in the opposite direction and walked away.

  Chapter Nine

  Gill kept pace beside her.

  The woman walked fast for someone with legs so much shorter than his. She stepped out of the building and into the light. Jo reached for her sunglasses and said without looking, “You don’t have to follow me.”

  Gill cov
ered his eyes from the glare, too. “I don’t have to do a lot of things.”

  He didn’t invade the place she was inside her head with questions, even though he had a million running through his.

  It was obvious she was walking off steam. And from the way she was muttering under her breath, she was battling several demons all at once.

  “Don’t you have to be training someone on how to be badass?” Jo threw out over her shoulder.

  “Nope. I’m technically done for the day.”

  “The day just started.”

  He didn’t need to be there at all, he came for the company.

  The company that was storming around the building on a mission. He’d been having a hard time getting her out of his head since she walked in the bar in DC. This morning’s little show from the doorway to her bathroom just about undid him. She’d offered him everything the night before, and that morning did her best to show him exactly what he’d said no to.

  He had to admit, Jo pissed off was turning him on. He’d rather see her pissed than teary eyed. Seeing a strong woman break down was his Achilles’ heel.

  The East Coast sun was doing a good job of heating him up; the humidity had him pulling the collar of his shirt from his neck in search of air.

  Jo rounded the building and walked toward the parking lot.

  She stopped in front of what looked like a rental car and patted her back pocket. Her lungs deflated in frustration.

  “Damn it.” She pounded on the roof of the car and rested her head on her arm.

  She was looking a little too weak for his taste.

  He placed a hand on her shoulder, was a little surprised she didn’t pull away. “Jo.”

  “You know what the kids that ride skateboards call the kids that don’t but who still wear those skinny jeans?”

  Her question came out of left field. “I have no idea.”

  “Poseurs.” She lifted her head, nodded toward the building across from the lot where her group was training. “That’s what I am in there. I’m wearing skinny jeans and pretending to be something I’m not.” Jo turned her back to the car, dislodging his touch.

  Gill leaned against the car across from hers and didn’t try and touch her again.

  “You’re not a poseur, Jo.”

  She didn’t look convinced. “Have you ever been to River Bend?”

  “No.”

  “You might think differently if you had.”

  He folded his arms across his chest. “I have every intention of seeing River Bend. I’ll let you know my verdict when I do.”

  She opened her mouth to say something, but he cut her off. “What’s this about your dad?”

  The thoughts derailed. “Forget it.”

  “Mmm, can’t do that. Not part of my DNA. He was killed?”

  She nodded once. “The report said accidental shooting. My dad was a good cop, an even better hunter. He was never sloppy with his weapons. Any of them.”

  Accidental shootings happened, but when it came to law enforcement, those accidents almost always happened when said officer was with another person.

  “Was anyone with him when it happened?”

  “No.”

  “Where did this accident take place?”

  “His hunting cabin. It appeared that he was cleaning his guns.”

  “He shot himself with a hunting rifle?”

  Jo wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. “His service weapon. Point-blank, to his head.”

  Gill winced. “Did your dad always carry his pistol with him when he went hunting?”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t really pay attention. The last time I’d gone hunting with him I was probably fourteen. Then I discovered boys and wanted nothing to do with it.”

  “You’re convinced he didn’t shoot himself.”

  “I know he didn’t shoot himself. Guns were never toys in my home. Not even the plastic orange ones you filled with water. Guns were weapons, period! I was taught gun safety before I was potty-trained. He was always careful with his guns and way too smart to leave a bullet in the chamber while cleaning the damn things.” She spread her hands to the complex around them. “I thought some of this might help. Focus me again . . . I don’t know . . . something.”

  Just talking about her father had focused her. Gill wondered if she knew how intensely her eyes displayed her emotions. She was convinced, utterly and completely, that she was right.

  “I’ll help.”

  Those piercing eyes found his. “You don’t have to.”

  “And I didn’t have to follow you out here either.”

  A corner of her mouth slid up. “I don’t know.”

  “I’m good at what I do, Jo. And from what I’ve seen, you’re good at what you do, too. From what you said earlier, it looks like we’re going to lose a good cop if we don’t find some answers.”

  “I never wanted to be a cop.”

  “I gathered that. Doesn’t mean you’re not suited for the job.”

  She hunched her shoulders, didn’t comment.

  He gestured toward the building. “C’mon. You finish this today, and tonight I’ll take you to meet a friend of mine. He might help you focus.”

  “Your friend’s an investigator?”

  “Not really. You’ll understand when we get there.”

  She looked over his shoulder, blew out a breath. “I need to call my deputy. Make sure he doesn’t do something stupid.” Her voice was filled with resolve.

  “I’ll meet you at your hotel at six?”

  Her smile was his answer.

  Jo was becoming quite comfortable on the back of Gill’s Harley. There she could wrap her arms around him and forget nearly everything except the vibrations of the bike and the feel of the man.

  She’d nearly lost it after the call from Glynis. All the reasons she wanted to find her father’s killer and search for a new life for herself rose up and slapped her in the face with that one call. Dogs. Dogs were the emergency in River Bend, and it took calling her deputy and heading him off before he could make a mess out of things to settle the nerves of her so-called dispatcher. When Jo contacted Cherie, the woman thought it was a social call. It took ten minutes to get through the gossip on her street before Jo managed to get a word in. Cherie agreed to keep the dogs inside at night so the neighbors couldn’t complain about their inability to sleep because of the barking. Jo also went on to say that her property wasn’t licensed for a kennel, and if the neighbors wanted to make a big deal about the amount of dogs, they could, and Jo would have no choice but to have the dog pound in Waterville step in.

  Cherie was agreeable, but Jo knew it was only a matter of days before the complaints would start in again.

  By then she’d be home, and hopefully be able to smooth things out.

  Until then, she’d enjoy the feel of Gill on the bike and the freedom being away from River Bend was giving her.

  Gill followed along the twisted back roads off the interstate until he slowed his pace and turned into a suburban driveway lined with trees. The modest one-story home looked to sit on a half-acre lot. The mature landscape consisted mostly of trees and hedges, with several rhododendrons in various shades of red.

  Once Gill cut the engine, Jo climbed off the back, the pattern of removing the helmet and raking her fingers through her hair becoming more than a little comfortable.

  Gill smiled at her as she handed him the helmet.

  “The ride relaxed you,” he said.

  “A little,” she admitted. Jo snuggled into her windbreaker and knew the ride back would probably be much cooler. “Who lives here?”

  “An old friend.” He took her hand and led her up the walkway to the front door.

  He knocked once before opening the door.

  “Better be a good friend,” she murmured. Since Gill was letting himself in, Jo had to assume they were expected.

  The smell of something savory filled the house and made Jo’s stomach rumble.

 
“Lee?” Gill called once they stepped inside the foyer.

  “Back here.” The smoker’s voice sounded young, if not a little gruff.

  Gill led her through the house like he knew the way until they emptied into a family room that connected to a kitchen.

  In front of the stove was a tiny Hispanic woman in her late thirties. She placed a kitchen towel on the counter and walked around to greet them.

  Jo’s eyes traveled to the man behind the gruff voice. He might be close to forty, but not much past. His upper body stretched the confines of his T-shirt, suggesting he spent time working that part of his body out. The rest of him sat in a wheelchair, which Jo forced her eyes away from the moment she realized she was staring.

  Gill released her hand to embrace the woman and kissed her cheek before offering introductions. “Consuela, this is my friend, Jo.”

  Consuela had long, dark hair that fell over her back like a drape. “Any friend of Gill’s is a friend of ours.”

  Jo extended a hand and shook the woman’s. “Thank you for having me.”

  “And this lucky bastard is Lee.” Gill did one of those slamming handshakes, followed by a bent-over man hug.

  “You’re the only one with big enough balls to call me that,” Lee said, pushing Gill aside to move his chair closer to Jo. “Let’s get a look at her.”

  Jo offered her hand to shake his and was met with the two-hand shake men did when they wanted to flirt. “Nice to meet you.”

  Lee held on and looked her up and down. “You’re a bit tiny to be taking on this behemoth.”

  “Excuse me?” Jo managed to get her hand back and look at Gill.

  “Ignore him.”

  “You can’t ignore me, I’m the elephant in the room. Hey, baby, how about some beer?”

  Consuela stirred whatever was in the pot and turned toward the fridge. “You okay with beer, Jo? I have wine. Not good wine, but it was made with grapes.”

  “Beer is fine,” Jo said.

  “How is my bike running?” Lee asked Gill.

  Gill sat on one end of the sofa and patted the space beside him while he looked at her.

  “Like a dream. One of these days I’m going to convince you to sell her to me.”

  “Wait,” Jo said. “That bike isn’t yours?”

  Gill shook his head. “Whenever I’m this close to Lee, he makes sure I get her out to stretch her legs.”