Kimberly Meter - A Real Live Hero

“You know he never treated her right,” Miranda reminded him. “I always felt bad for her.”

“Don’t. She’s like a cat—she always lands on her feet.”

“You don’t know that. Maybe she’s changed. A lot can happen in eight years. People can change.”

“You, of all people, are the last person I’d expect to hear say, ‘Maybe she’s changed.’ What’s going on with you?”

“Maybe I’ve grown up,” she said, teasing. “Having a kid does change you. And, I don’t know, maybe I’m tired of carrying around all this anger for things I can’t do anything about. Besides, we need to conserve our energy for the fight on the horizon, which, speaking of, have you managed to drop by our parents’ place yet?”

“No.” He withheld a sigh and ran a hand through his hair, knowing he was going to catch an earful. “I’ve been busy.”

“Busy doing what? I thought you were taking a breather after the Errington case.”

“I am, but just because I’m not out with the Search and Rescue crew doesn’t mean I sit around all day.”

“Trace, no one would ever accuse you of sitting around and twiddling your thumbs. You’re not hardwired to sit still for one blessed second.”

Trace couldn’t argue that point. “You know that program, the Junior Search and Rescue?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, every chance I get I’ve been spending it with them. I like the kids. They’re eager to learn and it feels good to pass on the skills, seeing as I don’t have any kids.”

“That’s cool. Speaking of kids...it’d be nice if Talen had a cousin or two,” Miranda said, dropping a not-so-subtle hint.

“Don’t look my way. Talk to Wade. But now that you mention Talen, you ought to have him join the program. I think he’d dig it. He’s an outdoorsy kid, so it’s right up his alley.”

“Good idea. I’ll talk to him about it. I worried he might be too young.”

“Never too young to start learning how to read your surroundings. Dad had us out there as soon as we could walk.”

At the mention of their father, Miranda returned to his least favorite subject.

“Trace, I really need your help. I know it’s not your idea of a good time—trust me, it’s not mine, either—but Mom’s out of control and Dad... Well, he’s almost a lost cause, but Mom’s in danger. We need to get that house cleaned up before it collapses on her.”

Miranda thought their mother had a hoarding problem, but Trace was fairly certain Miranda was exaggerating. How bad could it be? Trace thought the bigger issue was their father’s illegal drug operation. But he’d promised he’d take a look and see for himself. “I’ll go today,” he assured her.

“Should I meet you there?” she asked.

“No. You and Mom tend to spark off one another—”

“Just like you and Dad?” she cut in, knowing him well. “Maybe it’ll help to have a buffer.”

“With any luck, he won’t be around. But even if he is, I’ll keep it civil.”

“Okay. Let me know how it goes.” She hesitated, then added, “And give some thought to what I said about Delainey. You never know...maybe she regrets how things were handled, too.”

Trace bit back an irritated sigh. His sister used to be fierce—almost too much of a ballbuster—but now, she was downright tame thanks to that new guy of hers who’d come in and reintroduced joy to her life. Don’t get him wrong, it was great and all, but sometimes he missed the ballbuster.

“It’s not that I’m not in favor of the kinder, gentler Miranda Sinclair, but you’re wasting your breath and your benefit of the doubt. If anything, she’s gotten worse. She’s a user. So before you go and invite her to lunch or something, remember how she abandoned everyone when they needed her.”

“Yeah, I know. You’re right,” she conceded with a sigh. “If I see her, I’ll try not to clip her with my Range Rover.”

At that, he laughed. “Exactly. Knowing her, she’d have you arrested and that new boyfriend of yours would have to arrange conjugal visits in jail.”

“You’re gross,” Miranda said, but she was laughing as she hung up.

Trace’s smile faded and he tossed his phone to the sofa. Delainey Clarke...why’d she have to come around again? His life had finally settled into a familiar-enough routine that was devoid of too much emotion. He didn’t date—he found most women too clingy—and he made his life revolve around work. And he liked it that way.

He saved lives.

Period.

What did Delainey do with her life? She’d been in an all-fire hurry to get out of Alaska so she could be famous. Had it worked out for her? Was she some bigwig in Hollywood now? She’d said she was in a bind. What kind of bind?

Who cared.

Not Trace.

For the past eight years he’d worked at erasing Delainey from his memory. He’d burned pictures, destroyed videos and otherwise removed all evidence he’d ever loved her.

As for the hole she’d left behind?

It’d become such a familiar feeling, he’d barely noticed it any longer.

And if there were times when he couldn’t sleep, it wasn’t because his mind was torturing him with memories of how much they’d been in love, because he knew that had been a total illusion. No, Delainey had done him a solid by leaving, because he’d rather be alone than spend a lifetime with someone false.

The sooner Delainey split town again, the better. She wasn’t good for anyone. Least of all, him.

CHAPTER SIX

TRACE FROZE AND immediately glowered when he saw Delainey chatting up his boss, Peter, and knew right away that she was there to cause trouble. Peter caught sight of him and motioned him into the office, which he was tempted to blatantly ignore but chose instead to meet the situation head-on. Whatever Delainey had up her sleeve he could handle. She couldn’t force him to participate in her stupid show, and he felt fairly confident that Peter couldn’t make him either without facing some serious legal ramifications.

“Trace, come here a minute,” Peter said, smiling from ear to ear. “I’ve been chatting with your friend—”

“She’s not my friend,” Trace corrected him, shooting Delainey a dark look for telling his boss anything to the contrary. “And whatever she’s selling, I’m not interested in buying.”

“Careful, Trace, you might come off as unlikeable,” Peter said, a tad nervously, and Trace’s senses went on full alert. Something wasn’t right. Peter was practically simpering—not an attractive look on a man closing in on his sixties—and Delainey looked like the Cheshire cat. “Delainey has presented us with an amazing opportunity, and I think we owe it to the department to listen to her offer.”

“I already know her offer, and trust me, it comes with hidden strings attached. Besides, I’m not interested and without me, there’s no show. Right?” He looked to Delainey for confirmation. She nodded but cast a confident stare Peter’s way as if to reassure him—and that made Trace nervous.

“Imagine the publicity,” Peter started, and Trace waved away his protests.

“Exactly what I don’t want. It was bad enough talking with the reporters. I sure as hell don’t want a bunch of cameras in my face 24/7. No one wants to watch me do my job. I can’t imagine how that would make for good television, and I would question anyone who thought otherwise.”

“Delainey seems to think differently and I think we ought to listen to her judgment. She wouldn’t come all the way to Alaska on a harebrained idea, right?” He looked to Delainey to boost his argument, which she was only too happy to do.

“Absolutely, Peter. Although Trace doesn’t seem to appreciate his own value, my boss is positively drooling to get him on paper. And of course, we’re happy to make it worth the department’s while for the inconvenience.”