Kira Sinclair - Rescue Me

“Well, that’s a problem.”

A big one. Finding that bag in the bathroom was one thing. Sure, she did what she could to keep drugs out of her bar, but it was inevitable that some might slip through.

But him finding a sizable amount on the floor, the same night, was more than a coincidence. It was a major issue, one she and Wyatt would have to address.

“Really?” His dry tone irritated the hell out of her.

She moved to take the bag, but he snatched it out of her reach, holding it above her. “No, you don’t.”

So frustrating. Tucker tipped her head back and glared at the drugs dangling above her.

“What? I wasn’t planning on using it.”

“Sure.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she scowled at him. “I try my damnedest to keep that shit out of my place, but I’m not naive enough to think it doesn’t still get in.”

“So you intend to turn this over to the police?”

“Why would I do that? It isn’t like the drugs can be traced to a person. They were lying on the floor. I’ll just...flush them down the toilet.” That was exactly what she needed to do.

“Uh-uh.”

“Look...” Tucker’s voice trailed off and she realized that she didn’t even know his freakin’ name. He’d picked her up off the floor, sent her blood pressure spiking as his palm cupped the back of her head, held an ice pack to her throbbing cheek and she didn’t even know his name.

Maybe she should keep it that way.

“Finn McAllister.”

“And Duchess.” She knew the dog’s name. The dog she didn’t like to even glance at because it sent a zing of apprehension through her chest. “Look, Finn, I appreciate you sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong.”

“Gee, what an amazingly passive aggressive expression of appreciation.”

Tucker let out a sigh. “Fine. Thank you for stepping in and helping with our little problem. And for making sure I was okay.” Even she heard the reluctance in her words.

“Wow,” he said, a smile stretching across his gorgeous mouth. No man should have lips like that, perfect and lush, the thin white scar running through the right edge only making him more dangerously tempting. “That might have been even worse.”

“No, I really mean it.”

She did. While it grated that she’d needed the help, she was big enough to realize it was the truth. No doubt she’d get another lecture from Wyatt when this was all over. He was constantly telling her not to get in the middle of altercations and just let him and the guys do their jobs.

But she had a hard time taking a step back and watching anyone protect what she’d worked so hard to build.

Her father had raised her to be self-reliant and independent. She could still hear his voice in her head, telling her she was a big girl and needed to be strong, right before he left her by herself for months. She hadn’t disappointed him then and she had no intention of starting now.

Even if there were days she felt...alone.

Despite the sense of family she tried to build within her team, they came and went. As much as she hated it, she was used to a fluid train of people moving in and out of her life. Moving around a lot as a kid, she’d become adept at being friendly with everyone, but not actually forming friendships because it always tore her heart out when those bonds were inevitably broken.

She’d built those old, protective walls pretty strong and high. Now, she wasn’t sure she knew how to find a door—or even a crack—to let someone in. Not really.

Her cheek throbbed, her ankle and ass hurt, and her head was starting to pound, from stress, the punch, whatever. She was done dealing with this mess.

And this man.

Taking a step away, she said, “I’m assuming since your dog is trained to scent drugs that you know the best way to destroy that.” She nodded at the baggie still suspended above her head. “I’m going to trust you to take care of it, but if you decide to smoke it...”

“Not happening.”

“Whatever. If you decide to use it yourself I don’t want to hear about it if you OD.”

The corners of his lips turned up slightly, not nearly a smile, but definitely humor at what she’d said. The idea that he was silently laughing at her burned.

Slowly, he lowered his hand. Arms crossed over his chest, feet spread wide like he was king of the castle surveying his domain, his gaze ran over her. In the middle of a crowded bar he suddenly made her feel like the only person present. How the hell did he do that?

“You know something?” he finally said. “You’re cute.”

Tucker gave a fake gasp. “I’ve never heard that in my entire life.”

Between her small stature, long blond curls and refined facial features, people tended to take one look at her and see sweet and soft. There was a large part of her that delighted in proving those people wrong because she was neither of those things.

Finn, however, simply ignored her sarcasm. “And I wouldn’t touch the stuff if someone was holding a gun to my head. I’ve seen the results firsthand. It’s nasty.”

Tucker could hear the bitterness in his words, but didn’t want to care. She definitely didn’t want to ask.

It didn’t matter anyway. In the next five minutes he was going walk out of her bar and out of her life.

“I have a business to run and a nasty bruise to ice. I’d appreciate it if you and your dog left my premises.”

“Nice way to repay us for the help.”

She shrugged. “My bar, my decisions. The sign outside the front door clearly says I have the right to refuse service to anyone I choose. Your tab’s on me. Have a good life, Finn McAllister.”

3

SITTING ON THE balcony off his bedroom, Finn stared at the sun rising over the flat green landscape and into the wide-open sky. He’d spent years in other places, but San Antonio had always been home. His parents still lived in the suburb he’d grown up in not far away.

One of the main reasons he’d bought this house was for the unencumbered view. Sure, off in the distance he could see the high rises of the city, but here...he’d found some peace. Although, tonight it had done little to settle the jumble of nerves and emotions churning inside him.

His gaze snagged on the baggie of crystal meth that sat on the table in front of him. He’d placed it inside an evidence bag. Later in the morning he’d contact Officers Dade and Simmons, members of the joint task force he and Duchess had been assigned to assist, and turn it over. If they got lucky maybe they’d get some prints and another lead.

Eventually, they’d get back the chemical analysis, which could tie this batch to the others that had been discovered at the scenes of the deaths they were investigating.

The fine crystalline powder stared at him. Mocked him. But he couldn’t look away.

God, he hated that drug. Hated all of them, really, but he hated meth with a fiery passion. He wasn’t lying to Tucker when he said he’d seen the cost of the high it brought. Ultra addictive, it didn’t discriminate in the lives it destroyed.

His sister had been beautiful, popular, intelligent. She’d been in the top of her class, well on her way to an academic scholarship at a good college. No one in her life would’ve imagined she’d become an addict and OD, dying just two months before her high school graduation.

Finn could still see the image of her pale, lifeless body on that cold metal slab in the morgue. He’d been the one to identify her, his parents both too devastated to do it.

That experience had changed the trajectory of his own life. He’d already been in the Air Force, headed to the K9 training unit. When they’d offered him the chance to train with a drug dog instead of a bomb dog he’d jumped at the offer, joining a new mission that specialized in combating the increasing use of illegal drugs among soldiers.