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Her Irresistible Protector
Michelle Douglas


Are you here to arrest me, Officer King?When Officer Mitchell King–her ex and the only guy Tash Buckley has ever loved–arrives on her doorstep, claiming she needs his protective custody, Tash is more concerned by the heart-fluttering, pulse-racing effect he still has on her!Confined to Mitch's beachside cabin, Tash finds it increasingly difficult to resist her delicious protector….The Wild Ones duet continues with The Rebel and the Heiress, available next month!







Mitch had a smile that could make a woman forget which way was up. A flicker of heat licked low in her belly.

She swallowed. Mitch could make a woman forget vows she’d made to herself—vows never to fall for him again, not to expose herself to his treachery.

Only he wasn’t being treacherous at the moment, was he? He was trying to give her a holiday.

They landed against the beach with a tiny bump and scrape. Mitch vaulted lightly out and she barely noticed the rocking from side to side because he steadied them again so quickly.

He reached out to take her hand. “Keep your shoes on. The shells are sharp.”

She gritted her teeth and put her hand in his. “Thank you.” Her voice came out breathy.

He let go of her and she had to lock her knees to stay upright. She glanced around, forced herself to feign interest in her surroundings rather than the man beside her.

“It’d be possible to hide away from the world here.”

She had a sudden vision of a thick blanket spread on the smoother ground beyond the shells, a bottle of champagne, strawberries … and a naked man. The vision of her and Mitch together hit her hard and hot. She shot a look at him from beneath heavy eyelids—took in his wide shoulders, the depth of his chest and those rippling biceps.

He’d be sheer heaven to touch.


THE WILD ONES (#uaac77529-b208-59bf-8e37-c94be88a5bf9)

What will it take to tame these rebels?

A brand-new duet

by Michelle Douglas

Best friends Tash and Rick are in for the wildest of rides when they’re forced to spend time on the other side of the tracks.

Reforming a rebel image is tough—especially when the past is against them. But when their future depends on learning to trust someone else they soon find out that with the right person on their side they can do anything … even risk it all for love!

Available this month:

HER IRRESISTIBLE PROTECTOR

and look out next month for:

THE REBEL AND THE HEIRESS

also by Michelle Douglas!


Her Irresistible Protector

Michelle Douglas






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


At the age of eight MICHELLE DOUGLAS was asked what she wanted to be when she grew up. She answered, ‘A writer.’ Years later she read an article about romance writing and thought, Ooh, that’ll be fun. She was right. When she’s not writing she can usually be found with her nose buried in a book. She is currently enrolled in an English Master’s programme for the sole purpose of indulging her reading and writing habits further. She lives in a leafy suburb of Newcastle, on Australia’s east coast, with her own romantic hero—husband Greg, who is the inspiration behind all her happy endings.

Michelle would love you to visit her at her website: www.michelle-douglas.com (http://www.michelle-douglas.com).




To my irresistible little sister, Jess


Contents

Cover (#u0003b931-65c5-5114-9c86-985278949727)

Introduction (#u63c35f09-006a-53ce-99c6-eca3a5f68e09)

The Wild Ones (#ua14d7a02-6534-5858-b2f7-9ee22c18d429)

Title Page (#ua39373cf-d52d-5bd0-8a8f-2307c3e5a25b)

About the Author (#u0b2bc4a3-5868-597b-b00f-4acd233a0269)

Dedication (#u884fdeac-ff65-59c4-9cbb-1c21ac6c4b29)

Chapter One (#ulink_326d201e-0d06-57e0-af2d-8d4822f0c511)

Chapter Two (#ulink_abe8a07f-5e5a-51f9-b138-99a874011ed9)

Chapter Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_4dd23e5d-e53b-5fcd-b745-b40627752e64)

‘YES!’ TASH FLUNG up the lid of the washing machine, bunched up a T-shirt and lobbed it into the dryer. A pair of shorts followed and then another T-shirt and a pair of tracksuit pants. ‘Oh, yes, and she’s going for the record...’ A rolled-up sweatshirt sailed through the air and into the dryer without touching the sides. She grinned. As soon as she switched that baby on, her holiday officially started.

One glorious week.

Just to herself.

She did a little dance. A week! A whole week.

A knock on the front door pulled her up mid-shimmy and the next T-shirt sailed past the dryer to land in the laundry tub. She turned to glare.

No, no, don’t glare. Holiday, remember?

She let out a breath, reaching for her customary languor and shrugged it on. As soon as she was out of Sydney she could carry on with as much uncool excitement as she pleased, but until then she had no intention of ruining her tough-customer image.

Chin tilted?

Check.

Swagger?

Check.

Bored facial expression?

Check.

At seventeen it had taken her weeks—months!—to perfect that particular attitude. Now she could slip it on at will.

She strode down the hallway, determined to get rid of whoever was on the other side as quickly as she could. Throwing open the door, she glanced at the figure outlined on the other side of the screen and everything slammed to a halt—her feet, her mind, her holiday mood. Screaming started up inside her head. Air pressed hard against her lungs—hot, dry and choking.

She swallowed to mute the screaming and folded her arms to hide the way her hands had started to shake from the surge of adrenaline that flooded her. Every stomach muscle she possessed—and her weekly Judo class ensured they were all well-honed—clenched up hard and tight until they hurt.

Mitch King.

Officer Mitchell King stared back at her like some upright holy warrior. From the top of his close-cut blond hair to the tips of his scrubbed-to-within-an-inch-of-their-lives boots. Even out of uniform he looked as if he should be wearing one. Everything about him shouted clean-cut hero—the strong square jaw, the not quite even teeth and the direct blue of his eyes. A man on a mission. A man who knew right from wrong. No shades of grey here, thank you very much.

Tash didn’t reach out to unlatch the screen. She didn’t break the silence.

‘May I come in?’ he finally asked.

She let her attitude prickle up around her like razor wire. Kinking an eyebrow, she leant one shoulder against the wall. ‘Are you here to arrest me?’

His eyes narrowed. She knew their exact shade of blue, though the screen guarded her against their potency. Sort of. Her stomach clenched so hard she thought it might cramp.

‘Of course not.’

‘Then no, I don’t think so.’

She started to close the door. He kept his voice even. ‘It wasn’t really a question, Tash. If you close the door in my face I’ll break it down.’

She didn’t doubt that for a single moment. As far as Officer Mitchell King was concerned, the ends always justified the means. For sheer cold-blooded ruthlessness, nobody else came close.

Without a word, she unclasped the door and then turned and hip-swayed down the corridor into the kitchen. She added the provocative sway to her hips because it was more dignified than thumbing her nose. And because without her usual uniform of jeans and work boots she felt vulnerable. A hip-sway distracted most men

Not that Mitch King was most men.

She turned, hands on hips, when she reached the kitchen, but the sun flooding in at the windows reminded her it was summer and that she had big plans for this week.

Just as soon as she got rid of her unwelcome visitor.

‘How can I help you?’

The twist of his lips told her he’d read her animosity. As she’d meant him to. She’d lived in the same suburb as Mitch for most of her twenty-five years, but they hadn’t spoken once in the last eight.

And if it’d been another eight it would’ve been too soon.

He didn’t bother with pleasantries. ‘We have a problem and I’m afraid you’re not going to like the solution.’ He planted his feet, but his eyes gentled. ‘I can’t tell you how sorry I am about that.’

He might look like an angel, but the man could probably deceive the devil himself.

She shook the thought off, refusing to allow soft summer eyes or firm lips that promised heaven to sway her. She wasn’t seventeen years old anymore. ‘I’m not interested in your sentiments.’

His mouth hardened.

‘What’s this problem? If it’s anything to do with the pub then you’ll have to speak to Clarke.’

‘It’s not about the pub.’

For the last three years Tash had managed the Royal Oak, a local establishment that serviced the factory workers in the area. It wasn’t a genteel or trendy establishment by any means, but it was clean and generally free of trouble and Tash had every intention of making sure it stayed that way. She folded her arms and stuck out a hip. ‘Well, if it isn’t about the pub...?’

Mitch didn’t even glance at her hip and she couldn’t have said why, but it irked her. A tic did start up at the side of his jaw, though. He wasn’t as calm as he’d like her to think.

‘Have you spoken to Rick Bradford recently?’

It took every muscle she possessed to not let her jaw drop. When she was sure she had that under control she let rip with a short savage laugh. ‘You have to be joking, right? The last time you and I spoke about Rick, you arrested him. Unfairly, I might add. If you think I’m going to chew the fat with you about Rick then you are an unmitigated idiot.’ She put all the feeling she could into that unmitigated. It was a nice big word for a girl like her to know.

One of Mitch’s hands clenched—a strong brown hand. He leaned in towards her, his eyes chips of ice, all warmth gone. ‘So nothing’s changed? You still see him through rose-coloured glasses?’ His lip curled. ‘What is it with women and bad boys?’

She lifted her chin. ‘From memory, it wasn’t the bad boy I fell for.’

He froze. He glanced away. So did she, wishing she could take the words back. It grew so silent the only sounds she was aware of were the low hum of the refrigerator and one of her neighbours starting up a lawnmower.

Mitch cleared his throat and from the corner of her eye she saw him reach into his pocket. He pulled out a packet of photographs and held them out towards her. ‘We believe Rick is responsible for this.’

She didn’t want to take the photographs. She wanted to slap his hand away, herd him back down the hallway and shove him out of her door. Mitch had always considered Rick a troublemaker. When she and Rick had been in school, if anyone had been caught shoplifting then, according to Mitch, Rick must’ve been behind it. If there’d been a fight in the playground then Rick must’ve instigated it. If there was graffiti on the train station walls Rick must’ve put it there. She snorted. Crazy! And yet it had always been Rick’s grandmother’s door the police had come knocking on first.

And when kids in the area had been caught smoking pot, Mitch had been convinced that Rick was the supplier.

Mitch had been wrong. Oh, so, wrong. But that hadn’t stopped her best friend from going down for it all the same. He’d served fifteen months in prison. And she’d unwittingly helped put him there.

But not again. She’d learned some smarts in the last eight years. She knew better than to trust any man. Especially the one standing in front of her.

She reached out and took the photographs. The first one showed a house gutted by fire. She tossed it onto the counter. ‘Rick is not, nor has he ever been, an arsonist.’

The second showed a crashed car. She glanced up and raised an eyebrow.

‘The brake lines on the car were deliberately severed. The woman was lucky to get out of it with nothing but a broken collarbone and a concussion.’

She threw it to the bench to join its partner. ‘Rick would never hurt a woman.’ Rick protected women. She didn’t bother saying that out loud, though. Mitch would never believe her.

The third and fourth photos made her stomach churn. ‘And he certainly wouldn’t senselessly slaughter animals. That’s...’ The photographs showed a field of sheep with their throats cut. One of them was a close-up. She slammed it face down to the bench. Acid burned her stomach. This was just another of Mitch’s witch-hunts.

‘That’s what’s happened to Rick’s last three girlfriends.’

‘I’m sorry, Officer King, but I’m afraid I can’t help you with your enquiries.’

‘Have you spoken to Rick recently?’

He’d rung her two nights ago to tell her he was coming to town.

‘No.’ She kept her face bland and unreadable. She’d practised and practised that skill until she had it down pat. ‘I haven’t spoken to Rick in months.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘I’m not sure I believe you.’

She lifted a shoulder and let it drop. ‘I don’t care what you believe.’ She paused and forced herself to complete an insolent survey of all six feet two inches of honed male flesh. Mitch still had a great body. She kinked an eyebrow when she met his gaze again, keeping her face bland. ‘But it has to be said, you used a smoother approach last time.’

And, just like that, the air shimmered with unspoken tension. As if it hadn’t been shimmering enough before!

‘You’re never going to forgive me, are you?’

‘Nope.’

‘I was trying to protect you.’

‘Liar.’

She spoke so softly it almost sounded like an endearment. He took a step back, shrugged his official demeanour back on like a second skin. ‘We have it on fairly good authority that Rick is headed for Sydney.’

She kept her mouth shut.

‘And we think you’re next on his hit list.’

It took an effort of will not to roll her eyes. ‘Besides the fact that I know Rick would never hurt a woman—any woman—I’ve never been his girlfriend. I think that rules me out, don’t you?’

‘No.’

It was the way he said it. It made her blood run cold. Mitch might not make the law, but he sure as heck ensured it was enforced to the letter. Regardless of the cost—to himself or to others. ‘What makes you so sure I’m next on the hit list?’

‘A crumpled-up piece of paper with your address on it.’

She went cold all over. ‘Found where?’

‘In that field of slaughtered sheep.’

She folded her arms, resisting the urge to chafe them instead.

‘Two undercover officers from Central Sydney are on their way here now. One of them fits your description.’

We have a problem...you won’t like the solution.

‘And the bit I’m not going to like?’

‘They’re going to stake out your house to wait for Rick, and we have to get you out of here.’

She went to shake her head.

‘For your own protection.’

It should’ve sounded ludicrously melodramatic, but it didn’t. She stared at him for a long tension-fraught moment, taking in the way his mouth tightened and his shoulders tensed. ‘We meaning you?’

He nodded.

‘This is a bit beneath you these days, isn’t it?’ He’d progressed through the ranks of the force with a speed that was apparently a credit to him and his family. She might call him Officer, but he was a detective now. She couldn’t believe he hadn’t moved to a flashier suburb and wiped the dust of this working-class neighbourhood from the soles of his polished boots. She couldn’t believe he was standing in her kitchen asking her about Rick Bradford again.

She pointed to the suitcase on the sofa, open but neatly packed. ‘Look, I’m about to head off on holiday for a week. Up the coast. I won’t be around to spoil your stakeout or whatever it is you have planned.’

‘You don’t understand, Tash. We need to get you somewhere safe. We don’t want to risk you ending up in hospital...or worse.’

‘Why you?’ The question burst from her, but she couldn’t help it. She didn’t want anything to do with this man. Ever. Again.

His nostrils flared. ‘My history with Bradford is well known.’ The words came out clipped and short. ‘The powers that be want me out of the way.’

‘So even your superiors think your judgement is clouded on the issue?’

He didn’t say anything. He simply reached across and turned the photograph of the sheep over; spread each photograph out so she could experience their full impact.

She cut short a shudder. Show no weakness. Rick wasn’t responsible for those dreadful things, but someone was. Someone who wanted to frame him or hurt him in some way. Someone who didn’t care who they hurt in the process. She couldn’t stop her gaze from flicking to the other photos—the burned-out house. How dreadful to lose all you owned in the world in one fell swoop. She glanced around her open-plan kitchen and living room. She didn’t have much, but...

She glanced at the photo of the crumpled car and swallowed. Some of the questions Rick had asked her the other night made sudden and sinister sense—Have any new people come to the area? Has anything unusual happened lately? He’d asked them all in such a way that he hadn’t raised her suspicions, but now...

She knew her rights. She could say no. For heaven’s sake, she hadn’t had a holiday ever. But she owed Rick. If she could help bring this situation to a swift conclusion—help clear him—the sacrifice of a holiday would be a small price to pay.

‘Where do you mean to take me?’ She didn’t doubt for a moment that Mitch had an ironclad plan.

He met her gaze and just shrugged.

Obviously it was a secret ironclad plan. ‘How long do you think this operation is going to take?’

‘No more than a few days.’

She glanced at the photographs again. Who on earth would want to hurt those women? And what did it all have to do with Rick?

A burned-out house. Severed brake lines. Slaughtered sheep. She suppressed a shiver. She might’ve learned some street smarts in the last few years, she might be known as someone not to mess with, but she had no desire to come face to face with whoever was responsible for all of that. She knew self-defence and she had a smart mouth, but this... It was out of her league.

Self-preservation battled with pride. Common sense eventually won out. She might hate Mitch, but not enough to endanger her own life. She could put up with him escorting her to wherever it was she needed to go. ‘When do we have to leave?’

‘Within the hour would be good.’

She bit back a sigh. ‘You said there were two officers coming? I’ll make up the bed in the spare room.’

‘Just leave the linen out. They can make up their own beds.’

Typical male.

Her hand clenched. There was nothing typical about Mitch King, and she’d do well not to forget it. ‘Then I guess I’ll just throw the rest of the wet things in the dryer, pack a bag and get changed.’

‘Tash, thank you.’ She must’ve looked blank because he added, ‘For being so reasonable about this.’

His gaze lowered to her fist. She unclenched it and pasted a fake smile to her face. ‘I’m no longer an overwrought teenager, Officer King. I have absolutely no desire to meet the person responsible for those awful things.’ She gestured to the photos. ‘But I can tell you now, you’re on the wrong trail if you think it’s Rick.’ And the sooner the police found that out the better.

He didn’t say anything for a long moment. ‘I suppose it’s too much to hope that you’ll call me Mitch?’

‘You suppose right.’

She stalked off, heart thumping.

‘You already have a suitcase packed. You won’t need to pack a separate bag.’

‘They’re holiday things.’ Swimsuits and shorts and bright T-shirts. If she was lucky she still might get away for a couple of days.

‘Which will all be fine,’ he called after her.

That sounded promising. She wondered if the NSW Police Force budget extended to putting her up in a nice resort somewhere on the North Coast. It’d mean her week wouldn’t be a complete loss.

She focused on that rather than the thought of spending the next few hours in Mitch’s company.

She wasn’t a teenager, she thought, lifting her chin. She was an adult woman with clear vision and hard-won wisdom. And she had Mitch’s measure now.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice...

She shook her head. It wasn’t going to happen.

After switching the dryer on she shot into her bedroom and pulled her mobile phone from her pocket, flicked through her list of stored numbers until she came to Rick’s. She had to warn him of the welcome he could expect when he arrived in Sydney.

Mitch suddenly loomed in the doorway. Damn it! She hit delete and Rick’s number disappeared.

His eyes could knife a lesser person. ‘Were you trying to ring Bradford?’

‘I’m ringing Mandy next door and leaving a message on her answer machine to tell her I’m letting some out of town friends stay. You know what this place is like. If strangers suddenly show up without explanation there’ll be all sorts of alarms raised.’

He loomed in the doorway while she made the call. When she was done he held out his hand for the phone.

She lifted her chin and went to put it in her pocket instead.

‘Don’t test me on this, Tash.’

One glance at his face told her he’d take it by force if necessary. Steeling herself, she slapped it into his palm. ‘I can see the next few hours are going to be a whole barrel-load of laughs. Now, I’d like some privacy while I get dressed. Unless you mean to force your company on that head too.’

Without a word, he turned and stalked off. Tash had to sit down on the edge of her bed and breathe in for several long moments. She pushed herself upright again to pull on her usual armour of jeans, work boots and a black T-shirt.

* * *

It wasn’t until they were driving over the Sydney Harbour Bridge with its comprehensive view of the Opera House and harbour that Tash realised how completely she drew Mitch’s scent into her lungs. She stared out of the passenger window, barely noticing the colourful yachts below or the way the light glinted on the harbour in perfect summer exuberance.

Mitch’s scent hadn’t changed. Not one little bit. He still smelled of oranges and the tiniest hint of mint. Her lungs swelled to drink it in as if starved. With an abrupt movement she lowered the window, blasting her sinuses with warm summer air.

Mitch glanced at her briefly and she met his gaze just to prove she could. What she saw in their depths, though, shook her to her core. She understood the concern. She was a citizen at risk and he was the officer charged with protecting her. Her lips twisted. And she knew how seriously he took that duty.

But...regret?

Like him, she turned her gaze back to the front and tried to ignore the pounding of her heart.

‘You will be safe, Tash, I promise. This will all be over before you know it.’

She believed him. Still, the sooner he dropped her off at the ‘secret’ location and went on his merry way the better.

Another ten minutes of bone-stretching tension crawled by.

‘How is Rick doing?’

He spoke so softly she almost didn’t hear him. She wished she hadn’t.

Her fingers curved into talons. It took an effort of will not to bare her teeth at him like some wild thing. Eight years ago he’d taken from her not only her best friend, but also her self-esteem and her conviction that good trumped evil. She pushed a laugh out of her throat, but it was harsh and guttural. ‘Do you really think I’m naïve enough to discuss him with you again? Or perhaps you think him stupid enough to discuss his comings and goings with me?’

His knuckles whitened about the steering wheel. She dragged her gaze back to the front. She remembered those hands more than she remembered his eyes or his smile. She remembered how he’d held her hand in his and the way his thumb had rubbed back and forth across her wrist, making her blood quicken, making her wish he’d do so much more with those hands. She remembered how one of his fingers had trailed down her cheek, and how it had made her feel like the most beautiful girl in the world. She remembered how his hands had curved about her face the couple of times he’d kissed her, as if she were precious.

Precious? She’d been nothing more than a means to an end.

She could almost forgive him for arresting Rick. He was a police officer and it was his duty to uphold the law. And once he’d seen what was happening, Rick had made sure all the evidence had pointed to him. Rick had taken the blame and had sworn her to silence. She couldn’t blame Mitch for any of that. But she would never forgive him for using her to bring about that arrest, for lying to her, for betraying her so completely. For making her think he loved her. All in the line of duty.

‘I only meant that I’d heard he’d been doing some good work with troubled youths down in Melbourne. That’s a tough gig. I admire him for taking it on.’

Back then she’d been utterly clueless.

But not anymore. Seemingly innocuous questions or nicely worded flatteries would never draw her again. ‘Well, maybe you’d like to make a donation to that cause the next time you have your chequebook open, Officer King.’

They didn’t speak again. They drove along in a silence that itched and burned and bristled for another hour. Tash didn’t say a word when he turned onto the freeway and headed north. He didn’t volunteer any information either. Now there was a surprise.

Eventually he turned onto a small sealed road that wound effortlessly through bushland with only the odd farm dotted here and there to show any signs of habitation. Before they reached the road’s end Mitch swung the car onto an obscured bush track.

‘This isn’t the way to a nice resort,’ she growled.

‘What on earth gave you the idea I was taking you to a resort?’

Her nose curled. ‘Wishful thinking.’

He grinned and her heart sped up. Just like that. Idiot heart.

‘Then where on earth are you taking me?’ She made her voice tart. ‘Or do we have to wait for a Cone of Silence to descend before that’s to be revealed?’

‘I’m taking you to a cabin.’

Her lip and nose curled this time. ‘Please tell me it has running water and electricity.’

‘It has both.’

How gullible did he think she was? ‘I don’t see any powerlines.’

‘There’s a generator.’

‘Is there a flushing toilet?’

He flashed her a grimace pregnant with apology.

She huffed back in her seat and folded her arms. ‘Why can’t I go to a resort under an assumed name or something? I’ll pay out of my own pocket.’

‘It’s not a question of money, Tash. It’s a question of keeping you safe. The best way of doing that is to make you disappear, take you out of circulation.’

‘You can’t keep me here against my will.’ Though they both knew that, if he chose to, he could.

‘Do you really want to risk leaving?’

She glared out at the ghost gums and banksia trees.

He parked the car beneath a makeshift shelter that blended into the native Australian landscape. ‘We have to walk the rest of the way.’

Oh, this was getting better and better.

He held his hands up at her glare. ‘I swear it’s only three minutes of easy walking.’

It would’ve been easy if it hadn’t been for the bull ants. She yelped the moment she saw the first one.

Mitch spun around. ‘What’s wrong?’

She pointed.

‘For heaven’s sake, you’re wearing work boots. They’re not going to hurt you.’

‘I hate them.’ She’d sat on a nest of them once when she’d been small and she’d never forgotten it. They’d injected so much venom she’d developed a fever that night and had ended up in the emergency room of the local hospital. Her father had clouted her at the time for being so stupid as to sit on an ant nest. Then he’d clouted her when they’d got home from hospital for the additional inconvenience.

The memory made her stomach churn. She pushed a hand into the small of Mitch’s back. ‘Go faster.’ He felt lean and hard beneath her fingertips. ‘In fact, run.’

‘Tash!’ Exasperation laced his voice. He swung around to her, but whatever he saw in her face cut off the rest of his words. He knew she had demons. And she really hated him for that.

Thankfully, he didn’t say a word. With a shake of his head he started to jog, her suitcase tucked easily under one of his arms as if it weighed nothing. She stayed close at his heels, her handbag bumping at her hip and her feet tingling in abhorrence at the thought of ants.

Mitch slowed to a walk when they emerged into a clearing. Tash checked the ground for signs of bull ants before lifting her head. The clearing of lush grass opened up to a view so unexpectedly elemental and beautiful, so unspoilt, it momentarily robbed her of the ability to speak. She stumbled forward, her jaw sagging.

The curve of land they stood on caught an ocean breeze and below stretched a small beach. What the beach lacked in size it made up for in perfect golden glamour—the sand glittering in the sun and the waves whooshing up on the shore in perfect curls, the water stunningly clear and the whitecaps gloriously white. Beyond the bay the sea glimmered blue and green without a whitecap in sight.

To the left of them lounged a largish cabin, screened on its seaward side by wattle trees. The flowers were long gone, but the delicate green tracery moved in the breeze as if dancing to something slow and dreamy. Behind it stood a forest of ghost gums and banksia trees.

‘Where...where are we?’

Mitch turned from unlocking the cabin’s door. His mouth hooked up when he saw where she’d stopped. ‘Pretty, isn’t it?’

‘Beautiful.’ It might just make up for the rustic amenities. Suddenly, spending a few days in a secret cabin with a private beach didn’t seem such a hardship after all.

She followed Mitch inside. She didn’t bother trying to hide her relief.

He grinned. ‘Not as bad as you were expecting?’

The main room, complete with a rug on the floor and a comfy-looking sofa against one wall, was warm and welcoming. To the left was a fully equipped kitchenette, with a microwave oven and bar fridge. A table with three mismatched chairs stood nearby and a solid wooden bookcase full of books and knick-knacks acted as a kind of divider between kitchen and living areas. There were even pictures on the wall.

He gestured to a doorway and Tash moved aside the blanket tacked to its frame to glance inside. It held a big double bed with a blue-and-white patchwork quilt. A white blanket box sat beneath the window. She shook her head, turning on the spot to take it all in. ‘It’s lovely. Truly lovely.’ If she’d owned a cabin, this was exactly what she’d want it to look like. ‘Who owns it?’

He glanced away. ‘I do.’

Her jaw dropped. ‘This is yours?’

‘I bought the land five years ago.’ He shrugged. ‘I’ve spent my holidays and free weekends building this cabin.’

He’d what? For one outrageous moment she wanted to run away. Instead, she swallowed. ‘Thank you for letting me use it.’

He didn’t say anything.

She moistened suddenly parched lips. ‘I guess you’d better show me the lavatory, and how the generator works. And then you can get back to cleaning up the streets and keeping the peace.’

Would he have to face whoever had hurt those women? Her heart surged against her ribs. She took a step back. She wouldn’t want anyone to have to deal with someone that angry and unbalanced. Not even Mitch.

He frowned and cleared his throat. ‘Tash, I think you’ve misunderstood the situation.’

She straightened from surveying the titles in the bookcase. Not that she’d taken in a single one of them. ‘Oh?’

‘I’m not leaving you here alone. I’m your bodyguard for the duration of the operation.’

She dropped down onto the sofa. It really was very comfortable.


CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_4424e566-e3f2-5748-857f-3db5620fce29)

TASH’S EXPRESSION TOLD Mitch more than words could that she’d rather face whoever was responsible for hurting those women than spend any more time in his company.

He swung away, biting back a curse. They both knew the person responsible was Rick, and no doubt she still thought she could save him. Just as she’d thought eight years ago. He wasn’t going to let that happen. He wasn’t giving Rick the chance to hurt Tash again.

He waited for hysterics.

And kept right on waiting.

He should’ve known better. Tash didn’t do hysterics. Not anymore.

Eventually he rolled his shoulders. She might never forgive him for putting Rick behind bars, but she was right—she wasn’t the sweet, easily-rocked young girl she’d once been either. His heart bled a little at that, knowing he’d been partly responsible for that hardening, for her toughening up. He’d tried to apologise back then, but she hadn’t wanted to listen. A part of him hadn’t really blamed her.

He rubbed the back of his neck. Ancient history—that was all it was, and that was how it should stay. He pulled his hand back down to his side and bit back a sigh. It’d help if he didn’t remember the events of eight years ago as if they’d only happened last week. His lips twisted. And how those events had changed his life forever.

For the better.

And for the worse.

‘Is that really necessary—a bodyguard?’

He turned back and aimed for neutral and professional. He’d found that difficult eight years ago and he didn’t find it any easier now. ‘I don’t make the rules, Tash. I just follow orders.’

‘To the letter.’

He ignored her sarcasm. ‘Naturally, you’ll have the bedroom.’ He gestured. ‘I’ll be on the couch.’

One quirk of her eyebrow told him that had never been in doubt.

A reluctant grin tugged at his lips. He had to admire her spunk. ‘Let’s get a couple of things out of the way and then we can relax.’

‘Relax? You really think that’s going to happen?’

Her hazel eyes, a bit too large for her face, mocked him. They wielded the same power, the same kick of awareness now as they had eight years ago. When she’d been a slip of a girl and he’d been a hungry young constable eager for promotion. Seventeen. He’d had to keep reminding himself of that fact at the time.

She’s not seventeen any more.

His chin shot up. He had no intention of letting his guard down while they were out here in the wild. None! He wouldn’t relax until Bradford was in custody. There might be history between him and Tash, but he refused to be distracted by it. Or by her.

Besides, his lips twisted, she’d rather drink poison than become involved with him again.

It didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try and make this as easy on her as possible, though.

‘What do we need to get out of the way?’

Her question hauled him back. ‘First I’ll show you the amenities.’ The sooner she’d had a chance to rant about those the better.

She sighed when she saw the small outbuilding with its pan toilet and the bucketful of dirt and small spade beside it. ‘At least it has a door.’ She glanced in. ‘And seems to be relatively spider-free.’

He remembered her reaction to the bull ants and made a mental note to make sure it remained spider-free. ‘And this is the shower.’ He gestured to the canvas hut nearby. A camp shower he’d only erected yesterday.

‘Hot water?’

He shook his head. Her shoulders drooped a little and he had to fight the urge to swear. Tash might act tough—as if she could take on anything the world wanted to throw at her—but beneath it all he knew how vulnerable she was...and how gentle. If he found Rick first...

His hands clenched again. He would keep her safe. He swore that much.

No one would find them out here.

And the undercover detectives would deal with Rick with their usual efficiency. It suddenly occurred to him that he didn’t envy them their job. Arresting Rick again would give him no satisfaction. Other than to know Tash was safe, that was.

Instead of a stake-out he got to spend the next few days in paradise with a beautiful woman. Who hates your guts. He planted his hands on his hips and glared up at the sky. Professional, keep it professional. It was all he had. In his bones he knew that as long as they stayed out here they’d be safe. All he had to do in the meantime was maintain his professionalism.

He turned back to find her surveying him with narrowed eyes. She pointed to the shower. ‘When did you put that up?’

‘Yesterday.’

‘So you knew—’ She broke off and folded her arms. ‘No, you didn’t.’

‘I was spending a few days on leave out here.’

The brown flecks within the brilliant green of her irises gleamed like amber. He’d never seen eyes like them before.

‘So I’m interrupting your leave.’

‘It’s no big deal.’

‘Well, it only seems fair as you’re interrupting my holiday,’ she drawled. But the way she gripped her hands in front of her was at odds with the tone of her voice. The space between them filled with an edgy silence.

He cleared his throat. ‘I’m impressed,’ he managed, suddenly thirsting for an ice-cold beer and it wasn’t even lunchtime. But her hair gleamed a dark rich brown and the sun bore down on his uncovered head. ‘You don’t seem too horrified by the amenities.’

She smiled. It was sudden and unconsciously sweet and it jammed his breath in his throat. ‘I’m just thankful I don’t have to relieve myself behind a bush. Rick and I would sometimes take off to the National Park for a couple of days and that was usually the case there.’

The moment the words left her mouth she looked as if she’d like to call them back.

He should change the subject, try and put her at her ease. But... ‘You want to talk about it? Clear the air?’

She turned to face him fully. ‘About Rick?’ she said, obviously deciding not to misunderstand him.

‘I know you hate me for arresting him.’

‘I stopped hating you for that years ago, Officer King.’

That Officer set his teeth on edge. She wanted to bait him, wanted to prick and needle him. Normally he could shrug that kind of thing off. He tried to focus on the content of the conversation rather than the tone. ‘If that’s the case, then what’s the problem?’

‘The problem is I haven’t forgiven you for using me to do it. I haven’t forgiven you for pretending to be in love with me, for making me trust you, and then betraying me the way you did.’

The accusation in her eyes cut at him. His mouth filled with acid. She’d given her friendship to him freely and he’d abused it. ‘Would it make a difference if I told you how sorry I am about that?’

‘No. And frankly, Mitch, I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s just focus on getting through the next few days as easily and quickly as possible, all right?’

So that was what he could do with his olive branch, huh? Right. He nodded once and rolled his shoulders to try and ease the burn between them.

* * *

Tash tossed her head and tried to ignore the darkness in Mitch’s eyes. She reached up behind to scratch between her shoulder blades. ‘Is there anything else I need to know?’

He didn’t smile. The shadows in his eyes didn’t retreat. ‘Don’t go off on your own.’ He gestured to the coastal forest that surrounded them.

She tried to get the expression in his eyes out of her mind. He wasn’t some cute, roly-poly Labrador puppy she’d just kicked, but a grown man who’d screwed her over.

She puffed out a breath. She wanted—needed—him to keep his distance.

She scowled and glanced up into the never-ending blue of the sky. ‘We’re safe here, right?’

‘Yes.’

‘Some semi-deranged criminals aren’t going to come crashing through the undergrowth, are they?’

He widened his stance. ‘Practically guaranteed not to happen. Next to nobody knows about this place.’

‘Right, then.’ She dusted off her hands. ‘I don’t see why we can’t carry on as we planned to before all of this nonsense.’

Three frown lines marred his forehead. ‘I’m not catching your drift.’

‘You’d planned on a few days R & R out here, right?’

‘Right.’ He drew the word out.

‘Me, too. Well, not here, obviously, but I’d planned on spending a significant amount of this coming week on a beach.’ She’d planned to travel five or six hours further up the coast, but...whatever. ‘And for the rest of it I was planning to read a big fat novel or two, order takeaway pizza, eat too much chocolate and not do a scrap of work.’

After three years of working without a break, she deserved a holiday.

‘You’re suggesting we holiday together?’

‘Not together!’

His lips twisted. ‘Of course not. My mistake.’

‘But...’ If she wasn’t going to worry herself into an early grave...‘Yes, to the holiday bit.’

He shifted his weight again and it drew her attention to the long, clean lines of his legs. Her mouth dried. ‘Except—’ she suddenly pointed at him ‘—you’re not to go strutting around without a stitch of clothing on like you probably do when you’re here on your own. Skinny-dipping is prohibited.’

She shouldn’t have thought of Mitch naked. A whole host of illicit images pounded at her. Her cheeks started to burn. Very slowly a grin spread across his face. Eyes as warm as Mediterranean nights urged her to drop the attitude. Hands that, apparently, hadn’t lost their allure for her over the past eight years tempted her to let down her guard. And the combined scent of mint and citrus curled around her, making her mouth water and an ache start up low in her belly.

Her chest cramped. Her pulse pounded. Her hands clenched.

His grin hooked up the right side of his mouth in the most intriguing way and her heart started to hammer. He leant in closer, swamping her with heat and mint and citrus. ‘It’d be almost worth it just to see the look on your face. You might have a smart mouth and attitude to burn, Tash Buckley, but I have a feeling it’d be as easy as ever to unsettle you.’

It couldn’t be possible! She fell back a step. She couldn’t still want Mitch after all this time.

‘Do it and I leave.’ Fear made her voice tart.

He eased back and the tropical blue of his eyes hardened to chips of ice. ‘Then you’d be a fool.’

Maybe, but at least she’d be a fool with her heart intact.

‘We carry on exactly as we’d planned...separately.’

She turned and stalked back towards the cabin.

It was only for a couple of days, three at most, she told herself, storming into the bedroom where Mitch had deposited her suitcase. She flung it open and with as much speed as possible slipped into her swimming costume. All she had to do was keep things polite and pleasant. She might have to work at it, but...

Pleasant? She grimaced and pulled a shirtdress on over her head. Okay, pleasant might not be possible, but polite—distantly polite...very distantly—that should be manageable. For heaven’s sake. The man was only doing his job. She owed him some measure of gratitude whether she liked it or not.

Okay, well, obviously she didn’t like it, but she could be adult about this. She gritted her teeth. She would be adult about this.

She practised a smile. There wasn’t a mirror in the bedroom to tell her how well she’d pulled it off. It felt plastic, but it had to be better than a snarl, right? She slipped her feet into flip-flops and sauntered back into the main room. Mitch sat at the table, just...

She swallowed. He just sat there.

She recalled his attempt to apologise.

She recalled the way she’d spurned it, threw it back in his face and her smile started to slip. With a Herculean effort she slotted it back into place. ‘Mitch?’

He glanced up. He took in her bare legs and something flashed in his eyes. An answering tightness clenched her stomach.

She shook herself. ‘I, um...’ She frowned and leaned towards him. ‘If I weren’t here, what would you be doing?’

He shrugged. It seemed casual but something told her it wasn’t. She swallowed and suspected her smile had become a grimace. ‘Well, if I were you, I’d get on with it.’

Unless it was walking around naked or skinny-dipping.

‘I suspect my being on the beach might cramp your style,’ he drawled, his eyes hard in a way that didn’t fit her memory of him.

He could be right. ‘There’s room enough for the both of us on your beach.’

‘That’s not the impression I got.’

She knew she’d been churlish, but... She tossed her head. Given their history, the least he deserved was churlish. He sure as heck couldn’t imagine she’d be doing cartwheels about any of this.

She backed up a step. ‘I’m going to go for that swim.’ She didn’t wait for him to answer, but shot straight out of the door and down the track that led to the beach.

The headlands on either side pushed straight out to sea, the weathered rocks grey and smooth. In a storm or high seas it would probably be dangerous to swim here, but on a clear easy day like today curling waves rolled up to shore, set after perfect set. It was the ideal surf for body boarding. Not that she had a body board. She’d have to content herself with body surfing instead.

She dropped her towel to the fine white-gold sand and, refusing to turn around and glance back behind her, set straight off for the water.

She paddled for a couple of moments, the shock of cold water tightening her skin. Lifting her face to the sun, she relished the contrast between the cold and the heat.

And then she surveyed the surf. She’d never swum at a deserted beach before. Even though she was a strong swimmer she preferred the safety of a patrolled beach. Today, though, knowing Mitch would undoubtedly be watching from some hidey-hole, she moved forwards into the water, greeting the waves and finally diving beneath one. She caught a couple of waves and in less than five minutes she gave herself up to the joy of being in the water.

And every time thoughts of Mitch or Rick and the threat to her wellbeing intruded, she pushed them right back out again.

She practised handstands until waves knocked her over. She caught waves until she was worn out. She floated, relishing the sense of weightlessness and the cool water enveloping her.

‘Tash!’

The shout came from the shoreline. She started and gulped a mouthful of water, remembering in a rush that someone wished her ill. She turned to find Mitch waving her in.

Why?

Could this whole nightmare be over already?

With a queer twist in her abdomen, she headed for the shore. She took the towel he handed her. ‘What’s up?’

‘You’ve been out there for an hour and a half. Don’t you think it’s time for a break?’

An hour and a half? She blotted moisture from her skin and tried to appear unfazed and unflustered.

She had nothing to be flustered about.

Except for the way Mitch’s eyes kept flicking to her legs...and her hips.

He jerked away. ‘And beyond time to top up the sunscreen.’

She squeezed water from her hair, towelled off as best she could and then pulled her dress back over her head. She did her absolute best to ignore him, but it wasn’t easy when he paced a few short metres away, back and forth, back and forth, on those strong tanned legs of his.

She tore her gaze away to slap a sunhat to her head and spread her towel out. She collapsed on it and then pulled a tube of sunscreen from her bag. She reapplied it to her face, and then her arms and legs. She finally donned a pair of sunglasses.

He didn’t say a word.

His silence irked her. ‘Any news?’

He stopped pacing and shook his head. ‘No news.’ His face softened slightly. ‘But I thought you might be hungry so I made lunch. Only sandwiches and fruit.’

She didn’t want his face to soften when he looked at her! She didn’t want her belly softening when she looked at him! She didn’t want him looking out for her, bossing her around or telling her what to do!

‘I don’t need you doing things for me or telling me what to do. I’m capable of deciding when I need to put on sunscreen and I can make my own lunch!’ The words rocked out of her with too much force.

He stiffened and his eyes flashed. ‘I think you meant to say, “Thank you, Mitch, for going to the trouble”.’

Ha! ‘You, at least, are being paid to be here, being paid to make lunch, being paid to keep an eagle eye on me, while I’m supposed to just submit and say “Thank you, Mitch”?’ She let fly with a loose laugh. ‘As if that’s going to happen.’

He threw the picnic basket to the sand. ‘You want to quibble about money when your life is in danger?’

She hated the way her pulse leapt at his wide-legged stance and flashing eyes.

He wheeled away. ‘If you think I’m going to keep taking this crap from you, Tash, you’re sorely mistaken.’

He wheeled back and she leapt to her feet. ‘What are you going to do about it,’ she shot at him, slamming her hands to her hips. ‘Throw me in a police cell?’

‘The NSW Police Force is doing everything it can to keep you safe! Would it seriously hurt you to show some gratitude?’

‘If it were any other officer here then there’d be no problem on that head. Get another officer down here today and I’ll show all the gratitude you want!’

His face twisted and his voice rose. ‘It’s school holidays. Summer. There isn’t another damn person available unless I call Peters in from her holiday with her kids. Is that what you want?’

She almost said yes, but in all conscience couldn’t.

He slashed a hand through the air. ‘Rick has timed this perfectly!’

It was as if he’d hurtled her back eight years—back to the confusion, the pain and the rage. The helplessness. The realisation of what she’d done. The realisation of what he’d done. ‘Rick is innocent you block-headed idiot!’ she screamed as loud as she could.

His eyes blazed like blue fire. ‘You’re the idiot—the blind idiot—where Rick is concerned.’

Every muscle bunched and tensed until she shook with it, frustration a murderous black bile in her blood. She not only knew how to disable, but how to make a person scream with pain while she did it. And she wanted to make Mitch howl. Her hands clenched and her temples pounded with such force she thought her head would explode.

She clenched a fist...raised it...

And then her father’s image rose up in her mind and she went cold all over. She took a step back, her hand falling to her side, her chest rising and falling and burning. ‘I have never loathed anyone in all my life with the intensity I hate you, Officer Mitchell King.’

He paled.

‘I do not want to be here with you.’ She’d almost struck him! ‘What are my other options?’

‘There’s a safe house in Hornsby. You’d need to remain inside at all times, hidden.’ He swung away, raked a hand back through his hair. ‘I remembered how active you were—how much you hated being cooped up—and figured you’d prefer being out here.’

She swore and sat, rested her head in her hands for a bit. They couldn’t go on like this. She’d almost hit him! The thought of being cooped up in a hot sweaty suburb didn’t appeal one bit, though, either.

What on earth had happened to polite distance?

She lifted her head. She dragged in a breath. ‘What kind of sandwiches did you make?’

‘Ham and tomato.’

Her favourite. She reached into the basket and took one. ‘Thank you.’ But it came out stilted.

He sat then too, but he kept the basket between them. Wise. Very wise.

‘I’m sorry.’

She didn’t want an apology. She wanted him gone. You can’t have that. Get over it.

‘If I have this wrong and you’d prefer the safe house just say the word.’

She considered it. Seriously considered it. She stared at the beach, the surf, the sky. Eventually she shook her head. ‘This,’ she gestured to the beach, ‘is better.’

A heavy silence descended.

Would you like to clear the air?

She set down her sandwich. Would it help?

Her chest cramped as she looked at him. ‘Do you know I never trusted another man after what you did?’

He bowed as if buffeted by a sudden breeze. ‘Tash.’

Her name groaned out of him and she didn’t answer the incredulity in his voice. She couldn’t.

He raked both hands back through his hair. ‘Jesus, Tash, you were just a kid!’

She stiffened at that. ‘What? You don’t think a seventeen-year-old can truly love?’ She’d loved him with her whole heart. She’d never felt as intensely, as passionately, as deeply about any man. Not before. Not since.

She never wanted to feel that way again. When she thought he’d returned her feelings she’d been on top of the world. When she’d found out he’d used her to gain information that had led to Rick’s arrest...

Betrayed didn’t begin to describe it. No amount of jubilation, not the highest of highs, was worth that kind of devastation.

He turned to her, his face grey. ‘I’m sorry, truly sorry. I thought...I thought you’d get over it. I thought you’d treat it as a light flirtation. It wasn’t until afterwards I realised how much I’d hurt you.’

‘Light flirtation?’ She stared at him in disbelief. ‘Mitch, seventeen-year-old girls don’t treat anything as light except, perhaps, parental rules.’

Which was why she’d sneaked out to meet Mitch that night. It was why she’d taken him to Cheryl’s party. A party that had been raided as soon as Mitch’s suspicions that cannabis was present were confirmed. Until that night she’d kept her ‘romance’ with Mitch a secret from everyone. Because he’d asked her to. Because it was the one bright thing she could hold onto when everything else around her was shabby and tacky. She hadn’t wanted to let reality intrude.

In hindsight, what he’d been doing had become obvious, only she’d been too besotted at the time to see it, too distracted by the presents he’d brought her—chocolates, books and knick-knacks that she’d treasured. She’d been too awed by the attention he’d paid her, too thrilled by the desire in his eyes. Too consumed by the physical mayhem he’d created in her.

She’d been altogether too stupid, too gullible and too naïve. But she’d learned her lesson—trust no one.

‘I was twenty-two and I thought I knew everything.’ He gave a laugh that scraped her nerve-endings raw.

Twenty-two? He’d seemed like a god to her back then. She’d forgotten how young he’d been too.

‘But I got a lot of things wrong, Tash.’

She wouldn’t argue with that, but something in his tone had her swinging to him. ‘Like?’ The question was out before she knew it.

He stared down at his hands and then out at the water. He didn’t wear sunglasses to shade his eyes and she could see the lines fanning out from their corners. He must be what—thirty, now? He was too young for so many lines.

And just like that her heart started to burn for him.

She stiffened and took another bite of her sandwich. She wasn’t forgiving him.

‘When I first started in the police force I was hungry to save the world.’ His lips twisted. ‘You can translate that into hungry for promotion if you like.’

‘Which is why nailing Rick on drug charges was such a coup for you.’

He nodded.

Hungry to save the world? She scowled at the water. He hadn’t saved. He’d only destroyed. The sad thing was, he didn’t know just how much he’d destroyed. And even now she couldn’t tell him. Wouldn’t tell him.

‘So you must be pleased with yourself these days.’ She rested back on one hand as if she didn’t have a care in the world. As if they were talking about nothing more innocuous than the weather. ‘Moving up through the ranks as you have with such commendable speed.’

‘You’d think so.’

She frowned and moistened her lips.

‘But I got you wrong, Tash. I misjudged what I’d need to do, what I’d need to sacrifice, to rise up through the ranks and make a difference. I don’t know if you remember this, but the day Rick was found guilty and was sentenced you turned to me with such a look in your eyes.’

The look had been heartbreak. Her eyes burned. ‘It didn’t stop you then and it hasn’t stopped you now.’ And she’d best not forget that.

He was quiet for a long moment. ‘Some things are worth fighting for. I happen to think the law and justice are two of those things.’

‘And if someone gets hurt in the crossfire?’

‘In the interests of the greater good then...’ He hesitated. ‘I won’t pretend that I don’t regret it.’

The innate ruthlessness chilled her.

A seagull landed nearby. It squawked at them, obviously hoping they’d throw some scraps. She went to toss it her crust but Mitch’s hand on her arm stopped her. She froze beneath his touch.

‘It’s cruel to feed them. Their digestive systems aren’t designed to eat bread...or chips,’ he added, referring to the tourist habit of tossing gulls hot salted chips.

She nodded and he removed his hand and she found she could breathe again, although her heart pounded harder than the occasion demanded. ‘Why on earth did you want to be a policeman anyway?’

His face darkened. He stared out to sea. ‘I haven’t told anyone this before. But if anyone deserves to know it’s you.’

He turned and she may as well have not been wearing sunglasses at all. Her breath became trapped by the lump in her throat. The lump stretched into a painful burn that made her eyes sting. And all she could remember was the way his hands had cupped her face eight years ago and how utterly she’d given her heart to him.

‘No,’ she croaked.

He frowned. ‘No?’

Clear the air? She gave a harsh laugh that made his nostrils flare. Clearing the air wasn’t helping at all. This wasn’t clearing anything, only clouding it.

‘No,’ she repeated, clearing her throat so the word emerged stronger. ‘I don’t want to know anything more about you, Officer King. You can keep your secrets to yourself.’

With that she rose, shook out her towel and strode off towards the cabin. She entered it only to find him two paces behind. She whirled on him. ‘Are you going to dog my every footstep?’

He stepped around her, seized a bottle of water from the fridge and grabbed the backpack from the table. ‘Help yourself to whatever you want, Ms Buckley.’ He waved a hand around the kitchen. ‘I’ll be down on the beach if you need anything.’

The ‘Ms Buckley’ stung, but she had no one to blame but herself.

She hitched up her chin. ‘Thank you.’ Her voice came out cold, polite and distant. If she’d had any energy to spare she’d have applauded her poise.

Without another word, he left.

She clenched her eyes shut. Letting her guard down around Mitch would be fatal. He might come across all caring and solicitous, but he didn’t trust her any more now than he had back then. That backpack being a case in point. He’d been very careful to take it with him. She’d bet her life it contained her cell phone. And his. Along with the car keys. He wasn’t giving her a chance to get her hands on any of them.

‘Regret? Yeah, right,’ she muttered. Mitch would say anything and do anything to get what he wanted. All in the line of duty, of course.

Well, one thing was for certain. He wasn’t getting her.

* * *

Tash had a shower.

She fully explored the inside of the cabin. It was well-stocked. She had to give Mitch credit for that. She didn’t find her cell phone. Not that she expected to.

She lay on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Despite all the sun and surf earlier, a nap eluded her. Her mind circled with questions and fears instead. What kind of trouble was Rick in? Was he safe? Who was behind the violence against those women? Did someone really want to hurt her? If so, why?

She leapt off the bed to browse the bookcase. She selected a book at random. Fifteen minutes later she threw it down with a growl. The one thing she didn’t need to read was a graphic police procedural.

Not that she was scared. Not out here.

Not with Mitch so close.

The thought whispered through her. She shook it away.

She made tea and drank it without tasting a single drop.

Finally she pulled on her tennis shoes, grabbed an apple and headed back down to the beach. Activity—that was what she needed. She wasn’t used to lazing around with nothing to do.

The minute Mitch saw her he snapped his cell phone shut with a curt, ‘I’ve got to go.’ He shoved it into the backpack.

He didn’t tell her who he’d been talking to.

She didn’t ask.

‘If it’s legal,’ she drawled, channelling icy politeness that bordered on incivility, ‘I was planning to go for a walk...just along the shoreline.’ She wanted to add ‘Alone’ but figured that’d be overkill.

‘Sure.’ He lay back on the sand and adjusted his cap over his eyes. ‘Beyond those rocks there—’ he waved to the left ‘—is a broad rock shelf. The rock pools are pretty at low tide.’

Right. Was it low tide now? ‘Thanks.’ Again—icy and uncivil. It had to be better than shouting at him, though, surely? With a shake of her head, she turned and stalked off.

For the next hour Tash lost herself in the strange wonder of the rock pools. She discovered brightly coloured anemones, tiny starfish, small crabs and little silver fish. She found brightly coloured pebbles, and bright green clumps of seaweed. She found fully contained worlds that seemed to be in perfect harmony.

She grimaced as a hermit crab pounced and devoured a tiny fish. It was a beautiful world, but a savage one too.

Still, with the sounds of the waves breaking on the reef, the cries of the seagulls and the tang of salt on the air mixing with the scents of the eucalypts and casuarinas onshore, it worked to ease some of the tension from her muscles.

Until the image of Mitch’s shuttered face rose up in her mind.

Had she really cut him off so pitilessly and walked away when he’d been about to reveal something that obviously meant a lot to him, some secret he’d never shared before? She slammed her hands to her hips. She glanced first one way then another before crouching back down.

‘What a cow!’ she murmured, scratching her hands back through her hair and knocking off her hat. She snatched it back up, settled it more firmly on her head. She was better off not knowing his secrets and he’d be better off not sharing them with her.

She thumped down to sit on hard rock. How were they going to get through three more days of this? Her mouth went dry. For heaven’s sake she’d nearly hit him. They couldn’t go on like this.

She forced steel to her legs and pushed back to her feet, startling the tiny fish in the rock pool. They flashed silver as they scattered to hide in the weed and overhangs. For heaven’s sake, it was eight years ago. Get over it!

She passed a hand over her eyes. She hadn’t spent the last eight years nursing her wound. But...seeing him when she’d least expected to had brought it all rushing back—the pain, the disillusion, the anger. Nothing good had come from any of it. All she’d been able to do was lash out in an effort to protect herself. Very adult of you, Tash.

She closed her eyes and lifted her face to the sun. She stayed like that, motionless, for several long moments. Swallowing, she turned and headed back the way she’d come.

Mitch still lay on his back with his cap over his eyes. She set her shoulders and went to nudge him with a foot and then thought the better of it. ‘Are you asleep?’ she murmured instead. She said it quietly so he could ignore her if he wanted.

‘Nope.’

But he didn’t sit up.

She sat, but not too close. ‘I have a proposition for you.’

He still didn’t sit up. In fact, he didn’t say anything at all. She refused to get passive aggressive. She refused to get up and stalk off. ‘The police want to question Rick, right?’

He hadn’t been moving before, but he stilled completely at her words. She stared at him and pursed her lips. Act like an adult. ‘I’d rather have this conversation face to face.’

* * *

Very slowly Mitch pushed up into a sitting position. What was she up to now? He settled his cap back onto his head. ‘You know we do.’

‘But you don’t have enough evidence to arrest him, do you? All of your so-called evidence is merely circumstantial.’

‘What are you getting at, Tash?’ He reached across and removed her sunglasses, dropping them to her lap. He wanted to see her eyes. He wanted to know if she was lying to him, if she was planning something stupid. Not that she was the easy-to-read girl she’d once been, but he’d become adept at reading people. You had to in this job.

Her face, however, gave nothing away. She merely blinked a couple of times while her eyes adjusted to the light.

‘If you think for one moment I’ll believe you mean to grass Rick up or set him up, then you can think again.’

She leaned back and stared down her nose at him. ‘I might consider you a treacherous snake in the grass but I never thought of you as stupid. Of course I’m not going to grass Rick up.’

She said it all so matter-of-factly and without rancour that it surprised a laugh out of him.

‘I know Rick isn’t responsible for these crimes you’re fingering him for.’

All of his mirth fled. She was so blind where Bradford was concerned.

‘Let me ring him. Let me speak to him.’

He stiffened. Every muscle screamed no. If he said no outright, though, she’d get up and walk away. He didn’t want her to walk away. He was tired of that cold shoulder of hers.

His lips twisted. So much for professionalism.

Her hazel eyes with their bright points of gold surveyed him steadily. He bit back a curse. ‘Why would I let you do that? Why would I give you the opportunity to warn him we’re on his tail?’

She leaned towards him and the shape of her lips held him momentarily spellbound. ‘Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?’

‘I know Bradford.’

‘You always had it in for him—why?’

‘He was a drug runner!’

‘You had it in for him well before that. For what? Shoplifting a couple of chocolate bars and a bit of petty vandalism? For heaven’s sake, Mitch, those things were a rite of passage where we grew up. You know that as well as I do. I’m guilty of exactly the same things!’

He clenched his teeth so hard he could feel the pulse at the base of his jaw start to thump. Eventually he managed to unclench them. ‘He was the ringleader who led kids like you and Cheryl O’Hara astray.’

‘Cheryl?’ She closed her eyes. When she opened them again her eyes had turned dark and murky. ‘You’re wrong. You don’t know how wrong.’

Her certainty made something inside him snap. ‘I know he hit you all right!’ The words burst from him like bullets—hard, sharp and lethal. His hands clenched. His gut clenched. Bradford had hit her and the knowledge still made him want to tear the guy apart with his bare hands. How could she still defend him after all this time? ‘I know that mongrel beat you up!’

Her back stiffened. ‘He most certainly did not!’

Her hauteur gave him pause, but not for long. He stabbed a finger at her. ‘The first time I saw you after my basic training, you had a bruise on your cheek. A couple of months later, you had a black eye.’ One incident could be shrugged off as an accident. But two? Not a chance.

Tash folded her arms.

‘You had a black eye and Rick had two black eyes, a broken nose and a cut lip.’

She lifted her chin.

‘I asked your father about it. He told me Rick had hit you and that he’d, um...taken Rick to task for it.’

‘And you believed him?’

He sensed the scorn deep inside her. It burned brighter and fiercer until her eyes almost turned green. ‘Of course I believed him!’

The scorn flared with greater intent. ‘Of course you did.’

She went to rise, but he caught hold of her wrist, keeping her in place. ‘Are you telling me Rick didn’t hit you?’

With surprising agility she twisted out of his grip and it suddenly occurred to him that she only remained where she was because she chose to. ‘Of course he never hit me!’

‘Then who...?’

She raised an eyebrow, not even trying to hide her derision. ‘You’re the detective, you work it out!’

Mitch watched her stalk back up to the cabin. When she was out of earshot, he let loose with a whole litany of curses. What on earth had possessed him to bring her here? What had made him think it a good idea? Why had he thought this would work?




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