Chapter 2 Gabriel #2
"Examination room two. How long ago?"Colt's already in motion, leading us deeper into the clinic, but his gaze keeps drifting back to her like she's magnetic north and he's lost his damn compass.
"Maybe 20 minutes, half an hour?..." She glances at me, and I catch uncertainty flickering in those brown eyes. "I got here as fast as I could."
"I need you both to step back," Colt says, moving around the examination table with practiced efficiency. "Give me room to work.."
We retreat to the corner, and for the first time since this started, I really look at her. Small but strong. Those brown eyes that seemed panicked after the chase now show nothing but fierce concern for the injured animal.
"You were trespassing," I say quietly, keeping my voice low enough not to disturb Colt's work, but there's no mistaking the authority threading through it.
She goes statue-still, every muscle locking down like she's bracing for impact. "I know."
"On Beau Blackwell's land."
A nod. The rabbit in her arms shifts, and she strokes its fur absently, in a natural and gentle way, clearly trying to calm both herself and the animal. Watching her hands move in those soft, soothing circles does something to my chest that has no place in an interrogation.
“You sped up when I turned on my lights.”
Another nod. I can see color creeping up her neck, embarrassment mixing with what looks like genuine fear.
She is making herself look guilty as hell.
"So far, you have managed trespassing, failure to yield to law enforcement, reckless driving, and endangering public safety." I tick off charges like inventory, watching micro-expressions flicker across her face.
"Should I be worried about what other kind of trouble you're bringing to my town?"
Something hot and fierce flares in her eyes, transforming her entire face from frightened girl to fierce woman in the space of a heartbeat. Whatever I said just lit her fuse, and the blaze in her expression sends my pulse into dangerous territory.
"Good thing I was trespassing!" she shoots back, voice rising despite obvious attempts to keep it down. "Good thing I was speeding and breaking all your precious laws, because otherwise this innocent animal would be bleeding out in the woods right now!”
There it is. The real woman hiding beneath blood and exhaustion. She's not impressed by my badge, my size, or the authority I've worn like battle armor for years.
Most people cower when I use that tone. Hell, Marines used to snap to attention.
The fact that she's standing there spitting defiance at me? That does things to my body I have zero business feeling.
"That is enough," Colt says sharply from the examination table, not looking up. "If you two are going to argue, take it to the reception area. You are not helping."
My jaw tightens, but I nod curtly. "Let's go."
The reception area is cozy but professional, all comfortable chairs and soft sounds of animals somewhere in the building. She places the rabbit on the desk with reverent care, then turns to face me, every line of her body angled toward the exit.
Everything about her body language screams runner, but there is steel underneath that fear. The kind that makes her stand straighter despite obviously wanting to disappear.
"Look." I dial back the command voice, aiming for reasonable authority instead of full intimidation. "I get that you were trying to help, but you can't just—"
"Can't just what?" She cuts me off mid-sentence, and damn if I don't feel a flicker of admiration for the sheer brass it takes to interrupt a sheriff. "Pretend I didn't see him dying? Walk away and let him bleed out alone?"
"That is not what I—"
"Seems like you are more concerned with your laws than the fact that there is a living creature in there who might have died if I had followed all your rules."
Anger flashes through my chest, hot and immediate. She's hitting pressure points I didn't know existed, challenging me in ways that should trigger every defensive instinct I own.
Instead, they make me want to crowd into her space and find out what other fires burn behind those eyes.
"Protocols exist for a damn good reason." My voice drops to the tone that used to make subordinates think twice about pushing. "When you flee from law enforcement, when you take mountain curves at eighty, you don't just risk yourself. You risk every innocent person who happens to be on that road."
"The only person I endangered was me," she fires back, chin jutting out like she's daring me to argue. "And frankly, that is my choice to make."
"Is it?" I take a deliberate step forward, closing the distance between us until I can smell her. Something clean and wildly feminine threaded with pine and morning air and the faintest hint of fear-sweat.
The scent should ground me. Instead, it scrambles every circuit in my brain and makes me acutely aware that I'm losing my grip on this entire situation.
I don't lose control. It's not in my programming. But this slip of a woman with fire in her eyes and blood on her clothes is systematically dismantling every defense I've spent years building.
"People don't run from cops like their lives depend on it unless they've got secrets worth protecting.
And in my experience, those kinds of secrets tend to put other people in danger too.
" The words land like a physical strike.
Color drains from her face. Her hands curl into fists at her sides, knuckles going white with the force of whatever she's holding back.
"You don't know a damn thing about me." The words come out low and shaking, but there's steel underneath the tremor.
"No," I agree, letting my gaze rake over her face like I'm memorizing every detail for a wanted poster.
"I don't. So let's start simple. What 's your name?"
Pure panic flashes across her features. There and gone so fast most people would miss it. But I'm not most people. She hesitates just long enough to confirm every suspicion forming in my head.
"Lucin—" The word trips off her tongue before she can stop it. Her face flames red as she catches herself. "Lucy. Lucy Reid."
I feel my expression sharpen, hunter instincts kicking into high gear. That stumble just told me more about "Lucy Reid" than any background check could.
"And you are?..." she shoots back, clearly trying to wrestle control of this interrogation away from me.
"Gabriel Maddox. Sheriff Gabriel Maddox." I let the title hang in the air between us like a challenge.
"Well, Sheriff Maddox." She loads my title with just enough sarcasm to make it sound like an insult, which should piss me off but instead makes something warm and dangerous spread in my gut.
"What happens now? You're going to slap cuffs on me for the heinous crime of giving a damn about innocent animals? "
My mouth betrays me with the ghost of a smile before I can stop it.
There's something about her particular brand of courage, standing there spitting defiance at me while terror practically radiates off her in waves, that's working its way under my skin and setting up permanent residence.
"Caring about animals isn't a crime, Lucy Reid." I let her fake name roll off my tongue like I'm tasting it for lies. "But trespassing is. So is fleeing an officer."
We lock eyes across the small space, and the air between us practically vibrates with tension. Part challenge, part attraction, all dangerous as hell. She's got the nerve to go toe-to-toe with a sheriff when she's clearly got more secrets than a CIA black site.
It should trigger every alarm bell I own. Instead, I'm fascinated by the way she refuses to back down, the way she meets my stare like she's got nothing to lose and everything to prove.
"Look." I hear my voice soften without permission.
Something about the way she's standing there, defiant but fragile, fierce but clearly running on fumes, triggers every protective instinct I thought I'd buried with my military career.
"You did the right thing. That dog's alive because you gave a damn when it mattered." I see her shoulders drop with relief.
"Thank you," she whispers, and the gratitude in those two words does something to my chest that should probably worry me.
The examination room door opens, and Colt emerges, wiping his hands on a towel. There is something in his expression when he looks at her that makes my jaw clench.
"How is he?" she asks immediately.
"Stable. Needs surgery, but he is going to make it," Colt says, and his smile widens at her obvious relief. "Someone used a knife on him, but they missed anything vital. Full recovery."
"Thank God." The words come out like a prayer, and I watch some of the tension finally drain from her frame.
"I'm Colt, by the way." He extends his hand, and there's nothing professional about the warmth in his voice now. "Colt Mercer. And you're the guardian angel who saved Dusty's life."
I track their interaction like a sniper watching a target, noting how Colt's voice drops into that low register he uses when he's interested, how his eyes linger on her face like he's trying to memorize it.
"Lucin… Lucy Reid," She slides her hand into his, and I don't miss the way her voice steadies when she says the fake name.
"I just did what anyone would do."
"Not anyone." Colt doesn't release her hand. At all. The handshake stretches into something that looks suspiciously like hand-holding, both of them locked in eye contact like they've forgotten I'm standing three feet away.
I clear my throat with enough force to rattle windows.
My throat-clearing finally breaks whatever spell they're under. Colt's expression snaps back to professional, though his hand lingers another heartbeat before releasing hers.
"Right. Surgery. Dusty can't wait much longer."
"Of course. Go." She waves him away, but there's reluctance in the gesture that makes something territorial and ugly twist in my gut.
Colt makes it halfway to the door before stopping, turning back with that cocky half-smile I know means trouble.
"For what it's worth, you did exactly the right thing. Despite what Gabriel might have said about proper procedure. Rules be damned."
I feel my jaw tighten at the obvious dig.
"He is just doing his job," Lucy says, and there is something in her tone I cannot quite read.
"Yeah, well, sometimes the job gets in the way of doing what is right." Colt says it with the edge of someone who's never been impressed by badges or protocol.
My radio chooses that moment to crackle with an emergency call code.
"I have to go," I say, feeling frustrated at the timing. "Lucy, I meant what I said about no charges, but..." I pause, studying her face, memorizing details I have no business memorizing. "Do not leave town just yet. I have a feeling this situation is not over."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean someone stabbed that dog deliberately. Multiple times. That is not random animal cruelty, that is personal." I make my expression serious, letting her see the cop beneath the man who is inexplicably drawn to her. "We are going to need to talk more about this."
The words send a visible chill through her, and something protective and entirely unprofessional rises in my chest.
"Try not to get in more trouble while I am gone," I say, then find myself adding, "I would hate to have to chase you again."
Because the truth is, chasing her got my blood pumping in ways that had nothing to do with law enforcement and everything to do with the way she looked at me like I was a threat and a salvation all at once.
As I walk out of that clinic, leaving behind a mysterious woman with secrets in her eyes and Colt's obvious interest written all over his face, I realize my peaceful life in Briarhaven just became a lot more complicated.