Renegade

A tall, darkly handsome man in the chief’s uniform came down the hall just as she reached the door. His hair and clothes were liberally covered with coffee grounds, pieces of discarded tape, and two sticky Post-it notes, while a tissue was stuck to the top of a big, highly polished black shoe. There was another Post-it clinging to the long black ponytail at his nape.

“Was it something I said?” Cash Grier wondered aloud.

The teenager, whose lipstick was black, like her fingernail polish, groaned under her breath and stalked out the glass door, shutting it furiously behind her.

The uniformed officers tried valiantly not to laugh. Many sounded as if they’d just developed bad coughs. The man filling out the statement almost choked with mirth.

Cash glared at them. “Go ahead. Laugh. I can get another secretary anytime I want one!”

Judd Dunn, his assistant chief, was lounging against the counter, his black eyes twinkling. “That was the second one since you were appointed chief.”

“She worked in a grocery store before she came here,” Cash muttered, removing sticky things and coffee grounds from his immaculate uniform. “She only got this job because her uncle, Ben Brady, is the acting mayor and he said I’d never get funding for those new bulletproof vests I need if she didn’t get hired.” He sighed angrily. “He’s shady, that man. He wouldn’t be the acting mayor if Jack Herman hadn’t had a heart attack and stepped down. I have to put up with Brady until next May when we get a special election to choose Herman’s successor.”

Judd listened without comment as a scowling Cash continued ranting. “The city election won’t come too soon to suit me,” Cash snapped. “Brady’s giving me fits about making drug cases, and he won’t listen to any ideas about improvements in our department. They say Eddie Cane’s going to run for mayor against him.”

“He was the best mayor we ever had and I think he’ll win,” Judd said.

“More’s the pity we have to wait until May to vote Brady out.” Cash winced as he pulled the sticky note from his ponytail. “If he suggests a new secretary to replace that last one, I’m resigning.”

“You’ll have to find somebody to replace her, and quick, before he finds you a new candidate,” Judd ventured. “If you can get anybody sane to work for you.”

“I’ll put an ad in the paper, and women will trample us applying for the opportunity just to be in the same room with me!” Cash said.

“Maybe you should just take some time off and calm down,” Judd recommended. “The Christmas holidays are coming up.” He stared at Cash intently. “You could take a trip.”

Cash lifted an eyebrow. “I took one last month, with you, to that premiere in New York.”

“Tippy said you could come back whenever you liked,” Judd pointed out with a wicked grin, referring to the model-turned-actress Tippy Moore, the “Georgia Firefly” of modeling fame. “Her young brother liked you. He’ll probably be home from military school on holiday.”

Cash was reluctant to take the trip. The model had really gotten to him once he realized that she wasn’t the vain, vampy woman he’d first thought. Her vulnerabilities appealed to him in ways her blatant flirting hadn’t.

“I guess I could phone and ask her if she meant the invitation,” he said.

“Good man,” Judd said, clapping him on the shoulder. “You can get on the next flight out, and I can sit at your desk and be acting chief!”

Cash was getting suspicious. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with that squad car that you keep trying to talk me into? There’s a city council meeting next week…”

“They’ll postpone it for the holidays,” Judd assured him. “I would never try to talk the city council into a squad car you don’t really want. Honest.”

Cash didn’t trust that gleaming smile. Judd was like him. He rarely smiled unless he was up to something or in a temper.

“Much less hire a secretary before you get back,” Judd added, not meeting Cash’s eyes.

“Oh, that’s it,” Cash said at once. “That’s it. You’ve got somebody in mind. You’re going to stick me with some retired woman colonel from the army or another conspiracy theorist like the secretary we had when my cousin Chet Blake was chief?”

“I don’t know any out-of-work mercenaries,” Judd said innocently.

“Or any ex-colonels?”

He shrugged. “Maybe one or two. Eb Scott has a cousin…”

“No!”

“You haven’t met her…”

“I’m not going to meet her! I’m the chief. See this?” He pointed at his badge. “I fight crime. I do not fight old women!”

“She’s not old. Exactly.”

“If you hire anybody before I get back, I will fire her the minute the plane lands! In fact, I won’t leave town!” Cash threatened.

Judd shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He studied his clean fingernails. “I hear the sister of the planning commissioner wants a crack at you. She may ask the acting mayor for a recommendation.”

Cash felt hunted. The planning commissioner, a delightful and gentle man, had a favorite sister who also had a crush on Cash. She was thirty-six, twice divorced, wore see-through blouses and was a hundred pounds overweight. The planning commissioner doted on her. He was also the best dentist anywhere around. Even an ex-black ops specialist like Cash couldn’t handle this kind of heat in a small town.

“When would the colonel like to start?” Cash asked through tight lips.

Judd burst out laughing. “I don’t know any colonels who want to work for you, but I’ll keep my eyes open…!” He moved just in time to avoid a roundhouse kick. “Hey, I’m a police officer! If you hit me, it’s a felony!”

“It is not,” Cash muttered, turning back toward his office. “It’s self-defense.”

“My lawyers will be in touch with you,” Judd called after him.

Cash threw him an insulting gesture over his head.

BUT ONCE HE WAS SAFELY back in his office, with the trash can refilled and repositioned, and the floor swept, he thought about what Judd had said. Maybe he was a little touchy lately. A few days off might make him less…irritable. Judd and Crissy’s two babies reminded him painfully of the life he’d lost.

Besides, Tippy Moore had a nine-year-old brother named Rory who idolized Cash. It had been a long time since anyone had looked up to him. He was used to curiosity, awe, even fear. Especially fear. The boy didn’t have a man in his life, except for his friends at military school. What would it hurt to spend a little time with him? After all, he didn’t have to tell them the story of his life. He winced, thinking of the only time he’d ever come clean about his past.

He sat down behind his desk and pulled a small ad dress book from his pocket. In it was a New York telephone number. He picked up his cell phone and dialed it.

It rang two times. Three times. Four times. He felt bitter disappointment. He started to put the receiver down. Suddenly, a sultry, soft voice came on the line. “This is the Moore residence,” it purred. “Sorry I’m not here. Please leave a brief message and a number. I’ll get back to you.” There was a beep.

“It’s Cash Grier,” he said.

He started to give his number when a breathless voice came on the line. “Cash!”

He laughed softly to himself. It showed that she’d dived for the phone before he could hang up. He was flattered.

“Yes, it’s me. Hello, Tippy.”

“How are you?” she asked. “Are you still in Jacobsville?”

“Still here. Except I’m chief of police now. Judd left the Texas Rangers and he’s working with me as assistant chief,” he added reluctantly. Tippy had been smitten with Judd, just as he himself had once been smitten with Judd’s wife, Christabel.

“So many changes.” She sighed. “And how is Christabel?”

“Very happy,” he replied. “She and Judd had twins.”