A Vonnie Vines Mystery

Chapter 3

My mouth opened, ready to scream, and I let my body go limp. Better to hit the cold ground than get dragged away in a classic Pelican Bay kidnapping. The brief hesitation allowed my senses to be overpowered by the fresh pine smell from earlier.

Pine and something else.

I used to fall asleep dreaming of that scent right before my eyes closed each night. I'd know that smell anywhere and kicked myself for not picking it up earlier. It just seemed so impossible.

I spun on my attacker and planted my arms out to give me some space. We'd both need it.

There he stood. All six-foot-two of him. I had to crane my head back just to meet his eyes, which both annoyed the hell out of me and turned me on. Why did I have to have a thing for tall men? Especially that jerk of one.

"What are you doing here, Broadrick?" I asked, wearing my biggest scowl.

He continued to grin as if he'd won a million dollars. But sneaking up on an unsuspecting woman in the middle of a dark night was nothing to gloat about.

No wait.

We didn't have time to argue about why my very ex-boyfriend was standing in a yard in the pitch black in my hometown. The same town he refused to visit me in during our two years of dating. Two years!

I also didn't have time to launch a snowball at his head. Even if seeing it splashed across his pretty face would be monumental. Scrapbook worthy.

I reached for my phone, pulling it from my coat pocket, and held it between us like a sword. We didn't have time to say what needed to be said. Jalinda Jones was dead on her kitchen floor.

"I have to call the police," I said, waving the phone between us in case he missed the dramatic way I retrieved it from my pocket.

Broadrick flashed me another one of his dazzling smiles-one of the many reasons I fell in love with him in the first place-and then pointed at something behind me. "Looks like the cavalry is already arriving."

I twisted around and leaned to the side to see past Jalinda's home. At the end of the street, getting ready to turn, an ambulance swung wide as it rounded the corner. Its lights cut in to the dark evening sky, but the sirens were off.

"Shit."

Now we really were out of time.

Shit. s**t. s**t.

I couldn't get caught at the scene of another crime. Not so close to the last time.

Broadrick and his super thick soft auburn hair-I couldn't actually see his hair color in the darkness, but I remembered exactly what it looked like-stood his ground like a statue. It took two jerks of my hand on his arm to get him moving, but finally he allowed me to push us behind the line of trees surrounding the Jones' home. Thanks to small favors like the city council wanting to preserve the town's nature appeal and suggesting everyone have trees between property lines, we were covered.

Mostly.

As the ambulance pulled into Jalinda's driveway, it blocked any path I had for getting back to my vehicle without being seen. I tucked my uncovered hands into my coat pockets, trying not to worry about how long we'd have to stand in the cold. And failing.

Hopefully, the protection of my coat would be enough to keep frostbite at bay.

The ambulance came to a screeching stop in Jalinda's driveway, and I swear it sent a blast of icy wind in our direction. The sun had been down for at least an hour, but the chill was really settling in for the evening. I stood behind a large pine tree and Broadrick placed himself between me and the house, blocking my view and also the wind.

Right behind the ambulance, two cop cars arrived, parking on the street too close to my car for comfort. I wasn't the only person in town to drive a black Camaro, but if the police checked in with the local security firm-a bunch of tough no-nonsense former Navy SEALs who walked around like they were the only ones who could solve a crime-they'd quickly figure out the car didn't belong to one of them.

I'd be next on the list.

Snowflakes fluttered around me from above. I craned my neck again, trying to see far into the sky to predict how bad the storm would become, only to realize the fresh snow wasn't a new storm but Broadrick flicking the leaves as he leaned against the pine's thick trunk.

Damn, he looked good with snow on him.

Him and that perfect jaw and those big happy sparkling green eyes. The kind that never let you know he'd been to war and seen some s**t. At least, I had to assume. You didn't become a Navy SEAL without seeing some s**t.

"So you still have the habit of finding dead bodies?" he asked, but it wasn't a question at all.

Broadrick pitched his voice low, not to be heard by the police filing into the house. Speaking of, when in the hell did Pelican Bay get two police cars? Someone was padding their budget. Normally, if it took more than one cop car or the transit van, they had to call in the county boys for assistance.

I glared at him, deciding to worry about the police budget later. I'd add it to my list of suspicious s**t happening in this town. Which was saying something because Pelican Bay had a reputation for suspicious s**t.

My breath came out as a thick fog when I graced him with an answer. "What are you doing at a crime scene?"

The side door opened and closed twice, letting in more officers. I really wanted to demand he tell me why he was in Pelican Bay at all, but I figured I'd start small-the crime scene-and work my way to the bigger issues like his presence.

Another cop car parked on the street, this one with the county seal on the door. I stomped my feet to retain feeling in my toes. How did the police know about Jalinda? I certainly hadn't had time to call. Not while trying to argue with Broadrick and avoid sniffing him.

Fuck it. I had questions, and he needed to answer them.

Broadrick had his mouth open to answer my initial question, but I cut him off with my second. "No, cancel that. What are you doing in Pelican Bay?"

He rustled against the tree, sending more flakes floating around us.

Broadrick was a Navy SEAL stationed in the DC Area. He had no reason to be in Maine. Especially as my ex-boyfriend. Heavy emphasis on the ex part. We hadn't spoken in six months. The last time was when he dumped me in email and I called him screaming. He and his email breakup deserved every cuss word I lobbed at him. If you were tough enough to be a SEAL, you were tough enough to dump your girlfriend in person.

He waited to answer, allowing us both time to watch one of the EMTs return to the ambulance and get another bag from the back.

His answer came with a jolt of fog in the air from his breath. "I'm alive."

"I can see that."

Alive and still so damn hot. Asshole.

Why were all the pretty ones such jerks? There should be a rule against it.

Being a SEAL added a level of hotness to any guy. I blamed the uniform. I'd know since they surrounded us in our small-town. Ridge Jefferson set up Pelican Bay Security a few years earlier, after he left the service. Since then he'd been bringing in hot guy after hot guy to work for him.

None of them stood a candle next to Broadrick.

"You dumped me," I said, trying to sound aloof, but I worried I let too much hurt show.

He could never find out how badly our breakup affected me. I'd kept it from everyone else in town and I'd keep it from him, too. Broadrick didn't get to see my emotions any longer.

He adjusted himself against the tree again, as if he was the uncomfortable one. "I was stupid."

"Well, obviously."

We both knew that.

"Von, can we talk?" he asked.

Ugh. How dare he use my nickname? No one called me Von, and he gave up that privilege when he dumped me.

Now was not a great time to talk, but I thought about my answer for a moment. Who cared if he squirmed? I needed to think, but I was already thinking about so much. The dead body, the cheating husband, and now the ex-boyfriend.

I pushed against the tree, finding a new position with a better view of the home. No one had gone in or out for a while. The fact they weren't loading Mrs. Jones into the ambulance and hightailing it to the hospital didn't reassure me about her health status.

My movement caused more flakes to fall from the tree and I stared as a bunch hit Broadrick on the top of his head. He didn't even have a hat on. How was he not freezing? We both needed to get inside. If he ended up in the hospital with missing toes, he better not expect me to visit him.

"We are standing outside a crime scene in fifteen-degree weather and you want to talk? Now?"