Craving a Hero: St. John Sibling Series, book 3 (6 page)

"Just about any guy can grill a steak," she said as they washed dishes after the meal. "But where'd you learn to roast chicken?"

"My mother," he said, drying the rinsed plate she handed him. "She always said no boy of hers was going out into the world to starve. She insisted we each learn the basics and how to cook a special dish or two."

"A
special
dish or two?"

"She told us being able to cook something special would impress the girls."

A shy smile flexed across Kelly's lips as she scrubbed the roasting pan. "She was right."

He grinned more inwardly than outwardly, pleased he'd impressed her. "Yeah, my mom's a smart lady."

Rinsing the roaster, she said, "I notice you said
'no boy of hers'
. No sisters?"

"My sister was a natural in the kitchen. Mom didn't have to force cooking lessons on her."

"Force?" Kelly chuckled, a light, sweet sound that he knew he wanted to hear a lot more of.

"Some of us weren't the most willing students," Dane said, as she wrung out her dishrag and he wiped the pan.

She lifted one of her mink-brown eyebrows at him and pinned him with her see-all, translucent eyes. "Some? Or just you?"

Through a twitchy grin, he replied, "Guilty."

She dried her hands, nodding at the dishtowel he held. "Hang that thing up and come with me."

He folded the towel over a towel bar and followed her out of the cabin. "Where're we going?"

"For a walk," she said, leading him around to the back of the cabin towards the woods, Max already bounding past them. She peeked over her shoulder at Dane and gave him a poke in the midsection. "Gotta walk off all that chicken we just ate. I hear the camera adds ten pounds."

She sprinted off beyond the shed after Max.

"Hey," he called, following them onto the two rut path carved out by years of four-wheeling. "The protein isn't the problem. It's that potato salad you brought. All those carbs."

She kept them moving at a steady lope for what he guessed was about a quarter of a mile before slowing to a walk. She wasn't even perspiring.

"Don't you know you're supposed to stretch before running?" he asked, sucking breath but keeping stride with her in the parallel tire rut.

"That wasn't a run," she said, the near corner of her mouth quirking upwards.

"Are you showing off for me?" he asked.

Her cheeks pinkened though she huffed as though he'd said the most ridiculous thing. "Why on earth would I want to show off for you?"

"Because you like me."

"I do not. I mean, I do. But…"

He stepped over the grassy median, joining her in her rut, and looped an arm around her shoulders. "It's okay. I like you, too."

For a moment, she frowned. Then she laughed. "Yeah. That was pretty sophomoric of me."

"No more so than me. At least you didn't fall into a ground hornets' nest in the process."

She stopped, caught his chin between her fingers, and studied his face. "You're looking good."

He grinned. "I hear that a lot."

She smacked him in the chest. "You are so full of yourself."

He pulled her close. "Not nearly as much as you think." And he bent his head and kissed her. He kissed her hard and deep, but not nearly as long as he'd liked to.

#

Not nearly as long as Kelly would have liked either as Max jumped against them with a stick in his mouth, jolting them apart.

"Does he never get tired of chasing sticks?" groaned Dane.

"He's a retriever. Retrieving things is what he does."

He ruffled the dog's ears. That he didn't hold Max's interruption against the dog was one more thing she liked about Dane.

They continued along the path, Dane throwing sticks, Max retrieving them.

"You hunt with him?" Dane asked.

"My dad did."

"He's your dad's dog then."

"They were inseparable until…" She hesitated, struck by how easily he drew her out and wondering if that was a good thing or not. After all, a good CO
chatted
people up to get information from them.

Dane flung a stick, sending Max into the woods, before prodding, "Until what?"

She inhaled, giving herself another few seconds to decide giving him some family history wouldn't do any harm. "He got shot in the leg by a poacher, which forced him into early retirement. It put an end to him and Max hunting together."

Max bounded up to them and Dane asked, "He can still throw a stick for the dog, can't he?"

"Sure," she said, as Dane accepted the stick from Max. "He just can't take him out in the woods any more to do it."

Dane flung the stick deep into the woods. "Must have been a bad injury to keep him away from all this."

"It wasn't really
that
bad. Dad's more hurt he can't function the way he used to."

"Then he must not have loved the woods all that much, 'cause nothing would keep me away from something or someone I truly loved."

She gaped at Dane, stunned he had put into words something she'd often thought herself.

"We better head back before it gets dark," she said, finding a comforting kinship in Dane thinking the same way she did.

#

Back at the cabin, they sat side-by-side on the picnic table bench watching the sun set, backs braced to the table and Max stretched out underneath, finally having chased enough sticks.

"Some people say the best sunsets are on the ocean," Dane said. "Have you ever seen a sunset on the ocean?"

"I've never seen an ocean, let alone a sunset on one," she said, thinking how limited a life she'd led compared to his.

"Against all that horizon," he said, "it seems…small."

Surprised by his comment and curious, she studied his profile as he stared out over the forested landscape at the distant range of trees behind where the sun sank.

"This—" He waved a hand that encompassed the full range of a sky view framed by forest. "—is majestic."

Following the sweep of his hand, she gazed across the valley—gazed at the oranges and purples and pinks with which the slipping sun painted sky and clouds.

"I always liked our sunsets," she said.

He slung an arm around her and hugged her to his side. "And well you should. They're among the most beautiful I've seen from anywhere in the world."

"Really?"

His face caught in the last golden ray of sunlight, he looked her in the eye and smiled. "Really."

Then he kissed her forehead and rested his temple against hers as they sat together in amiable silence watching the oranges and purples and pinks sharpen in their final glory before fading toward night. Kelly had told herself what was between them was just lust. It would be over soon. But now, hugged against Dane's side sharing a sunset, it didn't feel like
just
lust. It felt more like something she didn't want to give up, something she wanted worse than breath.

CHAPTER FOUR

They were back on the job the next morning, the previous night's rain and the nearby swamp of the low-land they patrolled spongy beneath Dane's feet. He was struggling through a thicket of brush when her arm came up against his chest, stopping him.

"What?" he asked.

She nodded at the ground in front of them. "Rabbit guts."

"And you were afraid I'd step in them?" he asked, even though he sensed there was more to her stopping him than preventing him from gooing up the soles of his boots.

"Animal predators don't leave behind the guts."

"So this rabbit was killed by a human?"

"You got it, Sherlock." She squatted, studying the ground around the remains.

"Given your interest, I would venture to say rabbits aren't in season?"

"Another good deduction." Carefully, she swept back the underbrush. "Aha," she said. "The remnants of a snare."

"Is that illegal, too?"

"Yeah. Falls under the realm of trapping, and traps require identification."

He squatted and peered over her shoulder. "It looks like a string. How do you put identification on a string?"

"You don't," she said, standing and shrugging off her backpack. Retrieving her field camera from the pack, she ordered, "Hold that brush back so I can get a shot."

"Got yourself a poacher, huh?"

"Looks that way," she said, snapping shots of the snare and the rabbit guts.

"So now what do we do?" he asked.

"We track him," she said, shooting the imprint of a boot in the damp soil.

"Hot damn. Some real action." He took one step toward the footprint and she stopped him.

"Behind me."

"Yes, ma'am."

"You never track
on
the trail," she said. "You track alongside it. Preserve the trail in case you lose it and need to backtrack."

"Handy bit of information for The Hawke."

"Glad to be of service in your research," she said, stowing the camera. "And here's something else
The Hawke
should know. Stay behind me and keep quiet."

They'd gone about a quarter mile, the terrain gradually rising—getting drier. But even when the footprints disappeared, she didn't lose the trail. Pointing out broken twigs and bent branches, they tracked in silence.

"There's an excitement to this," he said in a lowered voice.

"Don't expect too much," she said in an equally quiet voice. "It's only rabbit poaching. Hardly big time."

Shortly, she stopped him again. "Smell that?"

He sniffed the air. "Smoke."

"Campfire, and this isn't a designated camping area."

"The offenses mount," he said.

She cocked her head at him. "And what was the fire danger designation yesterday?"

"High risk," he answered.

"Good boy."

"So you can get this poacher on making a campfire during a high risk fire danger as well?"

"Yup. Though, since we had a good soaking rain last night, I'll probably just give him a warning on that count…provided he doesn't give me any trouble. Giving them a break on something minor is good public relations."

When the trail dipped over an outcrop of rocks, she raised a finger to her lips and motioned him toward the rocks. At the top, on their bellies, they looked down on a campsite. It wasn't quite what he'd expected to find.

Beside an older car with a decrepit open trailer attached to it, a man worked the illegally gained rabbit carcass onto a stick while a woman sat beside the illegal campfire hugging a crying toddler with a hollow-eyed girl squatted beside her. He swore he heard Kelly curse before she motioned him back from the crest of the outcrop.

"They're just a hungry family," he said once they were beyond earshot.

She stared at the ground, frowning.

"That trailer looks like it's packed with all their belongings," Dane said. "And the little girl beside her mother—"

"I saw," Kelly snapped.

"You can't ticket them."

"He broke more than one law," she said, frowning.

"Can't you just make like you didn't see them? Pretend you didn't find the rabbit guts and snare?"

"Dammit, Dane. I'm law enforcement and the law in this case is clearly spelled out."

He frowned. "I don't know how you can do this job."

"If you can't handle the reality of it, stay here while I go down there."

"I'm coming with you."

"Then be quiet. Not a sound."

Much as he wanted to step on a twig or trip and send some rocks tumbling to warn the family, he respected Kelly too much to sabotage her. This was her job, her domain, her life. And sometimes reality sucked. He'd learned that a dozen times over in his years of growing up in Eastern Europe.

So he followed her, careful to avoid brittle sticks. Then, incredibly, she slipped, sending a cascade of small rocks clattering off the outcrop.

Dane glanced down into the campsite in time to see the man fling the skewered rabbit carcass under the car. Had Kelly also seen? Would she drag out the evidence and still nail the guy for poaching?

"Morning," she called. "How you folks doing?" she asked as they strode into the campsite.

"Fine," the man said, shoving his hands into his pockets. If they got a good look at them, Dane was sure they'd find dried blood.

The toddler whimpered and the mother looked up at them with wide eyes. Only the girl who couldn't be more than five years old rose and came toward them, hope in her eyes. He'd seen eyes like those before. He squatted and smiled at her. "What's your name, little lady?"

"Janey," she said, those big eyes looking at him as if he was some sort of hero come to rescue her and her family.

Behind him, Kelly was doing her CO thing. "Looks like you're doing some long distance traveling."

The man he assumed to be Janey's father nodded. "Headed to North Dakota. Heard there's work there."

"So they say," she said. "You folks Yoopers?"

Dane had observed her enough to know she was testing the guy to see if he knew the nickname for residents of the Upper Peninsula—the U.P.—testing to see if he was local.

"Nah. We come up from just below the bridge." The dad forced a short laugh. "What you folks up here call trolls."

"I'm Officer Jackson with the DNR and this fellow, Dane, is job shadowing me."

"Ah," the father responded, giving Dane a passing glance.

"Been camping here long?" she asked.

"Just since last night. We were all pretty tired of the road and thought this looked like a good place to stop."

"May I see some identification, sir?"

Dane winced. The man was going to have to remove at least one bloody hand from his pocket to give Kelly his ID. He held his breath as the father offered her his driver's license with a shaking hand.

Kelly accepted it without comment and wrote the man's information in her notepad, Kelly who never missed anything.

She handed the license back to the man. "Do you folks know this isn't a designated camping area?"

"We'll move on," the father said, stuffing his ID into his pocket.

Kelly nodded toward the fire pit. "We're posted for high fire danger, too."

"We dug the pit nice and deep," the mother said. "Put rocks around it."

"I can see you're being real careful about the fire. But you can't have a fire here."

"Needed a fire to boil the water from the creek," the father said.

Dane looked at the kettle hanging over the fire.

"We ran out of drinking water," the mother said.

Kelly nodded. "Good thinking to boil the water. But you can't have a fire here."

Kelly removed her backpack and retrieved two bottles of water from it and handed them to the mother. "Drink this. Use that creek water to douse the fire when you leave."

"You can have my water, too," Dane said, removing his pack and digging out his water bottles.

The baby cried and the mother stuck a knuckle in his mouth for him to chew on.

"When did that baby last eat?" Kelly asked, her tone soft.

"We ate the last of the crackers last night for supper," Janey said.

"I've got a couple power bars," Dane said, digging them out and handing them to Janey. There was that hero worship look again that would have brought him to his knees if he wasn't already on the ground.

Kelly unzipped a side pocket on the pack and took out an individually wrapped peanut butter cracker snack and handed it to the mother who immediately opened the package and handed a cracker to the baby. Kelly placed another cracker pack and power bar on the ground next to where the mother had set the water bottles. Then she turned back to the father.

"There's a designated rustic camping area about two miles further along this road. Fire pit's metal lined. Given the drenching we got last night, nobody should give you trouble about building a fire there. If they do, you just tell them I said it was okay."

She wrote on a back page of her notepad and handed it and her card to the father. "Here's the address of a shelter in Marquette. When you get that far, they can get you set up with some supplies."

The father blinked from the paper to her.

"You move to that designated campsite. I'll stop by later and check to see how you folks are doing."

Numbly, the father nodded.

"You folks take care," she said, tapping the brim of her hat and heading back up the trail.

Dane jumped to his feet, shook the father's hand, grabbed his pack and followed Kelly. When they were out of earshot, he said, "You knocked those rocks over on purpose, didn't you?"

"After all the fuss I made of telling you to be quiet, do you think I'd really give us away like that?"

He grinned. "Yes. And I also think you saw him throw that rabbit carcass—"

She whirled about at him and stuck a finger in his face. "Don't say another word, St. John."

He closed his hand around her pointing finger. "I knew you didn't have it in you to ticket them."

"You tell anybody I went soft on those people and I'll put out the word to everyone with a hard luck story that you're a soft touch."

"What do you mean?"

"You gave the dad money, didn't you?"

"Not much. Just what I had in my wallet. Couldn't have been more than eighty bucks. Enough for a tank of gas and some groceries."

"Sap," she said, pulling her finger free and heading off along the trail.

"Like they say, a fool and his money is quickly parted."

"Then you're a fool, St. John."

He caught her by the arm, stopped her. "Kel, I just got a huge advance against this next movie. If I'd had this kind of money a month ago, I could have helped my sister big time. But I didn't, and now that I've got it, she doesn't need it. But those people back there do need it. If helping them with a few bucks makes me a fool, then I'm a happy fool."

Her brow furrowed as she seemed to study him through those clear, bright eyes of hers. "You're a good man, Dane St. John."

Then she turned and stepped out of his grip, heading off through the woods like a hungry mama bear on the scent of a honey comb.

"Why are we in such a hurry?" he called, darting after her.

"Can't run his license until I get back to the truck."

"You're going to check them out?" he asked, catching up to her.

"Of course. They could be fugitives."

"And if they are, what's going to happen to those kids?"

Her pace slowed. "Child Protective Services will take custody and those kids will have full tummies and a bed to sleep in tonight."

"That's the real reason you're checking up on the father, to protect those kids," he said.

She tossed him a hard look and picked up her pace. "I'm law enforcement, Dane. Checking out people is what I do."

"Watching out for those kids is what you're doing."

"And the residents of my district. If the mom or dad have outstanding warrants—"

"Yeah, they looked like they were a real threat." He said, scrambling to keep up with her.

"People aren't always what they seem to be."

"I know that, Bright Eyes."

Her step faltered and she glanced back at him. "Sorry. I keep forgetting how you grew up. Of course you'd know you can't judge a book by its cover. Now quit slowing me down. I've got groceries to buy."

"We don't need any more gro—" What she meant dawned on him. "You're buying groceries for
them.
"

"I'm going to have to check up on them later, make sure they moved to a designated campsite. Might as well see to it the kids get something wholesome to eat."

He laughed. "Now who's the sap?"