of his sentence registered. Station… Oh my God, he was the police.
She stared at the badge on his black fleece-lined jacket.
Wait, what did he mean “stole”?
“I didn’t steal anything.” Fear blossomed anew. Although her photo ID looked real enough to her, it wouldn’t hold up to a police background check. She took a step back.
His eyebrows lifted slightly. “I saw you. Bring your purse up to the counter.”
Outrage swept through her, vying with anxiety. “I’m not stealing. Dante said I could take whatever I wanted to eat.”
“Mmmhmm.” Disbelief was obvious in the man’s deep voice. “Let’s ask him.”
Audrey crossed her arms over her chest, imitating the man. “He’s not here.”
When his gaze pinned her in place, she saw his eyes weren’t black—they were midnight blue and brimmed with skepticism. “He wouldn’t leave his store unattended.”
“He asked me to mind the register.”
“And steal the goods?”
“Listen, sheriff—“
“There are no sheriffs in Alaska. Call me Chief.”
“Chief.” Oh, she was so screwed. He wasn’t merely a small town cop, but the Chief of Police. She swallowed. Where was Dante? Shouldn’t he be back by now? “Chief what?”
“MacNair. And you are?”
“Juliette Wilson.” She’d done her homework. Wilson was almost as common as Jones, Johnson, and Smith. Juliette was a popular name, too.
“Wilson, huh?” His mouth flattened in a cynical way.
The door opened. As Dante moseyed into the store, relief filled her.
Only a few inches taller than she was, the wiry grocery store owner had receding white hair and a thick white mustache and beard.
He saw her, and his bushy brows pulled together. Turning to Gabe, he snapped, “Yo, buddy, leave my girl the fuck alone.”
When the chief turned toward him with a scowl, Dante blinked. His face lit. “It’s Gabe, isn’t it? I’ll be. You’re really here?”
The chief didn’t even notice Dante’s delight. “Ms. Wilson here was stuffing her purse with groceries and says you left her to mind the place.” The cop’s deep voice held enough sarcasm to fill a lake.
“Heh, working in L.A. done made you cynical, boy.” Dante might’ve left Oklahoma behind a long while back, but the southern twang in his voice remained.
“She told the truth?”
“Yep, she sure ‘nuff did.” Dante stepped behind the counter and set down a travel cup and white paper sack from the coffee shop. “She’s working now and then in exchange for one of my rental cabins and some groceries. Room and board, you might say. Keeps me from having to close up every time I want to leave the store.”
Audrey’s muscles began to unknot.
“I see.” The chief glanced at her, and his sharp gaze lingered on the yellowing bruises on her face. His suspicions didn’t appear much abated, although he said, politely enough, “I’m sorry to have bothered you, Ms. Wilson.”
“Quite all right. I can appreciate how guilty I must have appeared.” If she’d been a criminal, she’d be running from him as fast as possible.
To her relief, he nodded and joined Dante at the front.
After the two men shook hands, Dante glanced over. “Julie, how about you unpack those boxes of cereals?”
Yes, she totally needed something to keep her hands busy. “I would be delighted.”
“You shopping or walkin’ your beat,” Dante asked the chief.
“There’s no food in my cabin, but I’ll shop later.” The chief shrugged. “I wanted to see what I had to deal with here.”
“A lot, boy. A lot. Get yerself settled in and then we’ll talk.” Dante’s smile widened. “You might check on your brother across the street. There was a shit-ton of swearing coming from over there.”
Pretending not to listen, Audrey blinked. The man had a brother. There were two of them in this town. What an awful thought.
“No surprise. He hates paperwork.” The chief’s lips didn’t move, but the sun lines beside his eyes crinkled.
Oh. Dear God, the man would be lethal if he ever really smiled. She realized she was staring.
He noticed. His eyes narrowed, and his face hardened. Even though Dante’s explanation should have placated the cop, he obviously didn’t trust her at all.
A chill washed through her because she knew she must have looked guilty as hell.
Also by Cherise Sinclair
Masters of the Shadowlands Series
Club Shadowlands
Dark Citadel
Breaking Free
Lean on Me
Make Me, Sir
To Command and Collar
This Is Who I Am
If Only
Show Me, Baby
Servicing the Target
Protecting His Own
Mischief and the Masters
Beneath the Scars
Defiance
Mountain Masters & Dark Haven Series
Master of the Mountain
Simon Says: Mine
Master of the Abyss
Master of the Dark Side
My Liege of Dark Haven
Edge of the Enforcer
Master of Freedom
Master of Solitude
I Will Not Beg
The Wild Hunt Legacy
Hour of the Lion
Winter of the Wolf
Eventide of the Bear
Leap of the Lion
Healing of the Wolf
Sons of the Survivalist Series
Not a Hero
Lethal Balance
What You See
Standalone Books
The Dom’s Dungeon
The Starlight Rite
About the Author
Cherise Sinclair is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of emotional, suspenseful romance. She loves to match up devastatingly powerful males with heroines who can hold their own against the subtle—and not-so-subtle—alpha male pressure.
Fledglings having flown the nest, Cherise, her beloved husband, an eighty-pound lap-puppy, and one fussy feline live in the Pacific Northwest where nothing is cozier than a rainy day spent writing.