4. Dakota
One second, I was standing on the sidewalk, having the time of my life, watching as the scarily sexy stranger tried and failed to keep scowling at me. Clearly, he wanted to. He wanted to be utterly annoyed, but I could see the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. And they were gorgeous, those eyes. The color reminded me of dark nights with hot coffee and the smoke from a Friday night bonfire. Dark in the middle, with sparks of gold throughout the black coffee color of his irises.
But all of my inner musings about his eyes and the warring emotions I found there were rudely interrupted when he snaked out an arm and looped it around my waist. In one swift move, he’d spun around, using his hulking form to shield me—and Hope, whose arm he’d grabbed as he spun—from the street.
And then, as a crack of laughter sounded from somewhere off in the distance, he seemed to realize what he’d just done.
“Really?” A male voice called from behind me. “An old truck backfired, my friend. You need me to call Doc Williams?”
Tucker winced, letting go of Hope, who eagerly stepped back.
The whole thing went down faster than a knife fight in a phone booth, but my brain sure was taking its time putting the pieces of the last few seconds together.
Maybe it was because a massive arm was still wrapped around my torso, holding me against the brick building Tucker tried to disguise with a cozy fall jacket.
Or maybe it had something to do with how he was looking at me. Once again, there was visible conflict in those autumn night eyes, but this time, amusement had nothing to do with it. There was fear—actual fear, like something only felt by people who truly had experience with the scariest things in this world.
There was relief, too, which made sense on account of the danger he’d feared was only caused by the backfiring of a truck.
But, probably most unsettling of all, there was shame. What did he have to be ashamed of? The man was shot less than twenty-four hours ago. If that were me, I would’ve been jumpy too. Especially because, in hindsight, I supposed that bang really could’ve passed for a gunshot. Both Paisley and Hope had plenty of stories about calls into the dispatch center about shots fired, only to find out it’d been a car backfiring.
Just as I opened my mouth to say something—anything to put him at ease—he released me without warning.
I stumbled back, almost falling, but then his hand shot out and steadied me by grabbing a fistful of my jacket. He released me again—gently this time—as soon as I had my feet under me.
“Thanks,” I said, brushing my hair back from my face.
“For what? A massive overreaction?”
“For puttin’ your own butt in the line of fire, savin’ mine. It’s much too cute for a bullet wound.”
His lip twitched. “There was no line of fire.”
“You didn’t know that.”
“You’ll have to forgive my jumpy friend, ladies,” the guy from before said as he strolled over, a football tucked under his arm and a grin plastered on his face. Tucker shot him a look that could’ve melted steel, but Colton just chuckled, tossing the football from one hand to the other like he didn’t have a care in the world. “Don’t worry, I know a guy who can help him talk it out.”
Tucker shot his friend a look. “You don’t need to call Doc. I’m fine.”
“Hey, no shame in being proactive with your mental health. We gotta normalize getting help, right?”
“Cut it out, or you’re the one who’s gonna need help.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at their dry banter. But then, I noticed a much shorter version of Tucker Black ambling our way from the other side of the field. Younger, too, and that smile? I’d seen it before. This had to be that same little boy from the wallet photo, ten or so years older. I felt it in my bones.
As soon as the kid was in range, Tucker gave him a short nod—silent, but clear. A "go away" that only brothers could communicate without words.
I turned my focus back to the friend. “It’s okay. I know about his injury. I treated him at the hospital yesterday.”
Tucker cleared his throat, then scratched his beard as he peered down at me. “Did you, though?”
I laughed, rolling my eyes. “Okay, fine. I was around while he was bein’ treated. And I called it in. Which brings me to Hope.”
She gave an awkward wave from beside me.
“It was her house Mr. Bullet in the Booty was standin’ in front of when he earned his new nickname?—”
“Please don’t call me that,” Tucker grumbled.
“I think it has a nice ring,” his buddy mused.
“Were you there, too?” I asked.
He held his hand out to Hope, who shook it gingerly. “Colton Hayes,” he said. “Hope, was it?”
She nodded. The poor girl was ridiculously freaked out that a man had been shot in her front yard, and the fact that Colton Hayes was being all sweet and charming as he told her it was nice to meet her before moving on to shake my hand likely didn’t settle her much.
Did he really think I wouldn’t notice he’d completely ignored my question?
Well, if so, tough luck, Chuck.
“So, tell us the deal. What were y’all doin’ in front of Hope’s house?” I pressed.
“You’re a nosy little thing, aren’t you?” Tucker asked.
I stiffened. “Maybe. But I wasn’t the one who took a bullet while nosin’ around someone else’s property.”
Tucker shared a look with Colton before turning back to me, then he straightened to his full height, and yep, apparently, six-foot-five is quite a bit taller than my five-foot-three.
He used every inch of our height difference to color his next words. “I already spoke to Officer Wilson, and other than him and the handful of officers working in this tiny town, no one else needs to be part of what went down last night.”
Undeterred, I looked at Hope. “He’s right.”
“He is?” She asked, her words overlapping Tucker’s as he asked, “I am?”
I waved a hand. “Oh, not about us not bein’ part of it, just that we have other resources. Sorry for the confusion. Y’all have a nice day!”
I took Hope’s arm in mine and turned, ready to badger Adam until he filled us in. I couldn’t let my friend stay in the dark. She was terrified. Someone had been shot on her property, and since we were talking about a hundred-year-old custom-built cabin on three acres of land, this wasn’t a random drive-by or a stray bullet from a terrible hunter.
If Tucker Black was too secretive to tell us what he was doing at her family’s home, why someone had shot at him even if he didn’t know who, and for Pete’s sake, who the teenager from the photo was to him because I was way too curious, we’d find all of that out on our own.
Unfortunately for me, we didn’t get far.
“Hey!” I yelped, coming to an abrupt halt as a fist closed around the hood of my jacket.
Tucker released me immediately, and I spun on my heel.
He peered down at me, and even with the beard, I could see his jaw jumping slightly as he clenched his teeth.
Finally, he sighed. “What do you mean by other resources?”
“Well, other than how close I am with Adam—that’s the officer you spoke with, by the way—Hope is a Charlotte Oaks PD dispatcher. We have plenty of resources. Not to mention the fact that the whole town has heard about this by now, and when I tell you they are bloodhounds when there’s somethin’ juicy we all wanna know about, I’m not exaggeratin’.”
Tucker did not look pleased by any of this, but he didn’t speak.
I swung my attention away from his gaze to look at Hope. “We can always have a lil look-see when we get back home, right, roomie?”
I turned back to Tucker just in time to watch the color drain from his face. “What did you say?”
I blinked, thrown off by the sudden edge in his voice. “Which part? I said a lot.”
“Yeah, you did, but I’m talking about the part where it sounds like you live there.”
His words were measured, but there was something underneath them—a tightness in his tone. His eyes had darkened, too, and that calm, stoic expression he’d been wearing started to crack. Whatever he’d imagined about Hope’s safety, it clearly didn’t involve me living under the same roof.
I also didn’t miss the way Tucker and his partner, who was also over six feet tall, shared a look over the top of our heads.
“Hope was scared last night,” I explained, as if it should be obvious. “Ya know, on account of you gettin’ shot right outside her bedroom window.”
“I wasn’t right outside her bedroom window,” he argued.
“Whatever. She asked me to stay with her, and I am, for as long as she wants me to.”
I put my arm around Hope’s shoulders and we shared a smile, but when I turned back to Tucker, his hotness had kicked up another notch. He looked almost sick at the words I’d spoken, and that scowl that fit so well with his tall, dark, and dangerous persona slipped straight into a protective one.
I kinda liked it.
Okay, I really liked it.
It was just one more reason why this brutish man probably made other men instinctively take a step back when he entered the room, but I wasn’t the least bit afraid. Not to mention how casual he and Colton were around each other, and they were like yin and yang. If Tucker was the dark and stormy one, Colton was the sunshine. He was still tall and strong and seemed like he could kick some butt, but in a fun way. He was the fun one. And if Tucker’s best friend was the token fun one, that meant Tucker himself couldn’t be all bad, right?
Speaking as any group’s token fun one, I knew when I was loved and appreciated for the sunshine I brought to the party, and I knew when the hurricane that usually came with it just plumb wasn’t welcome.
I tried to steer clear of those party poopers.
“You stayed there last night?” Tucker asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Yep.”
“Where a guy had just been shot?”
“Yep.”
“Can I butt in?” Colton asked.
I snorted at the butt pun, which earned me another scowl from Tucker and an apologetic wince from Colton.
“Did you say the cop’s name was Adam Wilson?” He asked. “About my height, dark hair, Marine Corps vet?”
Frowning, I nodded. “Yeah, why?”
“Small world.”
“You know him?” Tucker and I asked at the same time.
“Served with him. I knew he was from Tennessee but didn’t know the name of the town. He’s good people.”
Tucker grunted.
“He really is!” I agreed with a grin. “We were just about to go see him if you wanna tag along. I’m sure Tucker here needs to go hang out with his boy. The one he doesn’t think we can see creepin’ closer to us every time his daddy’s back is turned.”
Colton frowned in confusion, but Tucker whipped around, locking eyes with the lanky teen leaning against a light pole about ten feet away.
“Oh, you mean Austin?” Colton asked, catching on. “That’s Tuck’s little brother, not his kid.”
Tucker shot Colton a glare that screamed in warning, but I smiled. “Ah, cute. I can see the family resemblance. Shoot, he must only be thirteen, and I think he’s already taller than me.”
“Twelve,” Austin called, seeming to decide he might as well join us since he was already busted for eavesdropping.
“Tucker exhaled through his nose, looking around our group with almost wild eyes, like a man who was used to having lots of control, only to find out he’d boarded a runaway train to nowhere. A haunted one. At night. Shudder.
“Okay, know what?” Tucker ground out, his voice dropping into that no-nonsense tone that left no room for argument. “The wild card is right. You should go talk to your old Marine buddy, and I’ll handle Austin.”
The sudden authority in his voice was like a switch had been flipped. Gone was the teasing banter, replaced by a man who was clearly used to taking control when things went sideways. It was enough to make everyone straighten up a little, even Colton.
“And you two,” he added, turning his steely gaze on Hope and me. “You should find somewhere else to stay for a bit.”
Hope frowned. “I’m not leavin’ my house just because you were shot there. Doubt it had anythin’ to do with me.”
“Ah, she speaks,” Colton said with a wink at my friend.
I waved a hand. “Everyone seems like an introvert when I’m on a tear. It’s my fault, sorry, Hope.”
“You’re fine,” she said with a chuckle.
“As are you,” Colton said, and oh-my-lanta. Hope’s blush was the same color as her auburn hair.
We would definitely be having ourselves a little chat about this later.
“Fine,” Tucker said through clenched teeth. “It’s your house, and I can’t make you leave it. But you shouldn’t stay there.”
That last part was directed at me, and I balked. “Uh, what exactly makes you think you can dictate where I lay my head at night?”
“Does your close friend Officer Wilson know you slept a few feet away from a crime scene last night? Because if he’s close enough to dictate where you lay your head at night, I have a feeling he wouldn’t approve.”
Hope and I exchanged mirroring looks of confusion. Did he think Adam and I were a thing? Is that why there was a vein in his forehead threatening to burst? Well, well. Protective with a jealous streak. Only a one out of five on the red flag scale, right?
“I don’t know, I’ll ask him when we go see him with Colton. You ready?” I asked.
Colton wordlessly asked Tucker what he should do, hinting that Tucker ran whatever show these two were starring in. Though, that wasn’t surprising given how bossy he was.
“What’s it gonna take for you to stay out of this?” Tucker asked, looking more than a little worn out.
“Answers,” I said as Hope nodded beside me.
“Tuck,” Austin whispered, jerking his chin over his shoulder when Tucker’s attention swung to him.
I tried to see what he was gesturing to, but Tucker’s large frame blocked my view.
Colton, however, must have seen whatever it was. His eyes went wide, and he stepped closer to us. Closer to Hope since she was closest to him, but there was no mistaking the protectiveness switch that’d flicked on for both of these men.
“Would Adam be at the police station right now?” Colton asked.
Hope nodded, checking her watch. “Yeah, he’s probably in the briefin’ room. I need to head that way for my shift anyway.”
I figured this was the part where I’d have to calmly explain to Tucker that not only would I be walking my friend to work, but I also wanted to talk to Adam, and there wasn’t a dang thing he could do to stop me.
But, apparently, that wouldn’t be necessary. Tucker stepped to the side, holding out an arm for us to pass. “Lead the way.”