The Guardian

Natalie Douglas, Sara’s secretary and maker of terrible coffee, knocked briefly and then opened the door. The young woman was truly beautiful, with pale blond hair stylishly cut, cool gray eyes and a figure any woman would kill for. She was also a more than capable assistant and a whiz with computers. If they could just get past the bad coffee thing…

“There’s a Sergeant Mangino here to see you. Should I tell him to wait?”

“No!” Patty said with a smile. “Bring him to us immediately.”

Natalie ignored Patty’s enthusiastic direction and looked to her boss for an answer, and after a moment Sara nodded her head. “Send him in.”

Patty’s smile widened, and Natalie cast a furtive and blatantly interested glance over her shoulder. Did Dante have this effect on every woman he met? Probably. She should consider that fair warning where he was concerned.

Natalie opened the office door wider, and Dante stepped inside. He glared down at the cup of coffee he had foolishly poured himself in the outer office. “Good God, you could tar a roof with this.”

Whenever Sara had carefully and kindly mentioned that perhaps Natalie could make the coffee less strong, the woman had been insulted. Now she took the cup from Dante’s hand and promised, in a heartfelt, apologetic voice, to pour it all out and make a better pot. When he added a “Thanks, darlin’,” Natalie actually blushed and bit her lower lip in a coy manner.

Sara was momentarily ashamed of her own gender.

Dante nodded to Patty, who all but dropped her jaw at the sight of him. Yes, he was studly, but really…get a grip.

“Do you have those letters?” he asked without preamble, his attention entirely focused on Sara.

“I gathered them together first thing.” She handed over the thin stack, certain he wouldn’t find anything alarming but not altogether sorry that he was going to check to be sure. Dante shook his head at her as he put on a pair of gloves. Only then did he take the stack of letters.

Patty stood. “I have to go or I’ll be late for work. Don’t forget the sock burning. Saturday night, Lydia’s place, just after dark.”

“I’ll be there,” Sara said.

Patty closed the door on her way out, and when she was gone Dante lifted his head to look at Sara. “Sock burning?”

She gave him a genuine smile. “It’s a tradition a couple of friends and I have. Every spring, we gather up all the mismatched socks we’ve managed to accumulate during the year, and we burn them. Lydia lives outside town on a large piece of property. We build a bonfire and ceremoniously dispose of the socks whose mates went missing in the dryer or just got lost or damaged along the way. Except that year we were having such a drought. We skipped the sock burning that year.”

“I have a similar tradition,” Dante deadpanned. “I throw mismatched socks in the trash.”

Must be a man thing. Robert had voiced the same thought, a time or two, back in the days when the bonfires had been planned around infrequent trips home to see family and friends. He had never understood or embraced the annual sock burning, but he had tolerated the event with a smile. Sara remembered well. She thought of Robert and she smiled herself, and this time his memory didn’t hurt. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“I didn’t know there had to be fun involved in disposing of…” He stopped abruptly and began carefully riffling through the letters. “Never mind. I should know by now never to question a woman’s logic since there usually is none.”

She could argue that point with him, but chose not to. Not now, at least. “What do you do for fun these days?” The question was out of her mouth before she had time to think it through.

He didn’t hesitate to answer. “My idea of fun includes explosives and big guns, or copious amounts of alcohol and loose women.” He glanced up, pinning those dark eyes on her. “And in case you’re wondering, no. The two various forms of recreation don’t mix.”

“Good to know,” she said softly. Her voice took on a different tone as she asked, “Will there be anything else? I have a busy morning planned.”

Dante very gently shook the letters in her direction. “No, this’ll do it. Have a good day.” He dismissed her and turned just as Natalie opened the door. The smitten secretary held a foam cup of steaming coffee in one hand.

“I hope you like this better,” she said sweetly. Too sweetly.

Dante smiled at her. “I’m sure I will, darlin’.”

It took all Sara’s willpower not to snort out loud.

And once the door closed, her first thought was that Dante Mangino had never called her darlin’.

Chapter 3

There was nothing even remotely alarming in the letters Sara had saved. They were all about potholes and city parks, annual festivals and liquor sales. The letters contained no threats, unless you counted the ominous “I will never vote for you again.”

The sexy undies that had been dropped on Sara’s porch were on their way to Bennings’ lab for fingerprinting. Some moron with a sick sense of humor was likely having a bit of fun with the mayor, but when Dante showed up on his doorstep, the fun would end.

The mayor’s office was up one flight of stairs and down one long hallway. Dante was tempted to return the letters to Sara personally, just to see for himself that she was all right. Dumb idea. She was fine. A twisted admirer had stolen her underwear and then replaced it, either because he felt guilty about the theft or because he wanted to envision her in the colorful silk. Either way, there was no danger here, no need for his concern.

Maybe he was overly cautious, but he had one woman’s death on his head and he wouldn’t let that happen again. His internal alarm system was usually accurate, but it had been known to malfunction on occasion. That internal alarm was malfunctioning now, screaming at him because he found himself comparing Sara and Serena in too many ways.

The afternoon was spent training a couple of the newer guys, two cousins not entirely unlike Dante and Jesse, as they had been many years ago. Billy Nance and Sammy Bender were young and eager and more than a little bit competitive. Billy was blond and blue-eyed; Sammy was darker and more intense. They would make good cops if they decided to stick with it.

Training, Dante could handle. He actually relished the work because it allowed him to focus his attentions on someone and something other than the mayor and her panty thief. Since he’d been with Bennings from the beginning, he had often been involved in training. The recruits for the Benning Agency were usually older and more experienced than these guys, but they were no less dedicated. Of course, most of the Benning agents were there for the money, while Billy and Sammy were relentlessly dedicated and hopelessly green, ready and willing to save the world.

Dante enjoyed showing the cousins—the hard way—how ill-prepared they were for physical attack. He liked surprising them with new and unexpected moves, and he really liked it when he saw the ah-ha moment on their faces and knew they’d gotten what he was trying to teach them. If their careers kept them in Tillman, it was possible they would never be in a situation that required these skills. Still, a man could never be too prepared, even if he lived and worked in a town where the last exchanged gunfire left no one so much as scratched, and afterward both men involved had rushed to the police station to file a complaint against the other party. It wasn’t a bad way to live, if you could stand the lack of excitement. Dante wasn’t sure he could. Working for Bennings for so long had turned him into a danger junkie. He needed the rush of adrenaline, the accelerated heartbeat, the uncertainty.

Even though throughout the afternoon the green recruits both ended up in the air and on their backs—multiple times—they remained eager to learn and willing to take whatever punishment was necessary to prepare themselves for what might come their way. When Billy managed to toss his instructor to his back, through the rush of pain Dante felt like a proud papa.

The chief met Dante as training finished for the day. His cousin wore a wide smile. Jesse had always been the golden boy of the family, and that had not changed. He’d married a sweet girl who’d dutifully given birth to two sons and a daughter. He’d been a detective in Birmingham for years before taking the job here in Tillman, coming home like a good son and making his mama proud.

When Billy and Sammy were on their way back to the station, breathless and exhilarated and out of hearing range, Jesse said, “Aunt Debra loves the haircut. She says it makes you look years younger, and maybe now you can get a woman.”

Dante glared. “Where is she?”

“No need to look over your shoulder,” Jesse said with a grin. “Your mom’s still in Florida. We sent her a picture.”

Dante could not remember having his picture taken since getting the haircut required for this job. He could only imagine his mother’s delight. They didn’t speak often, but when they did, his hair, a job she could explain to her friends, the right kind of woman and the grandchildren she did not have were always subjects of conversation. “How?”

“Janice took a shot with her cell phone when you were over for supper last week. She sent it to Aunt Debra by e-mail.”

“I hate technology,” Dante said as he headed for his car.

Jesse laughed and followed. He was likely waiting for Dante to say something, anything, about the mayor. Jesse was the only person in the world who knew about what happened that summer. He was also the only person in the world who knew how Dante had felt about Sarabeth Caldwell, way back when. Dante didn’t alleviate his cousin’s curiosity about the reunion. Jesse had obviously thought it would be a great joke to send Dante in unprepared. He could stew a while.

“Want to come by for supper tonight?” Jesse asked.

“Ethan has baseball practice, but he’ll be finished by six.”

“No, thanks,” Dante said.

“You’re just mad because Janice told you that you can’t use the s word or the f word at a Little League game.”

“Or any of the c words,” Dante added. “Besides, I only slipped up once, and none of the kids heard me.”

“No, but one of the mothers did,” Jesse said with a grin. “She went straight to Janice, too.”

Which is likely why Janice had snapped a photo and sent it to his mother. Revenge. “I have plans.”