A Nose for Trouble Read online

  Fuck! Snap out of it, Brennan. You fucked up. She’s gone!

  He forced his thoughts back to the damn job where they should have stayed all along.

  Where the hell was this guy?

  More people sauntered into the bar wearing bright, tropical shirts and barely there dresses. Tan marks that criss-crossed bared skin and ranged from a hint of sensible warmth to eye-watering blisters and patches of boiled lobster shell red sunburn, marked them as tourists. None of them were the guy he expected.

  The newcomers headed toward the brewery’s beer garden with its magnificent ocean views and the sun edging closer to the horizon. No one appeared to be waiting for anyone. While watching for his contact and the signal, he’d inspected everyone who’d passed whether they’d entered the bar or continued along the street. Brennan wasn’t sure what made him shift his gaze from the door. Heat flared in his body, but in contrast, the hairs on the back of his neck rose as though someone stomped on his grave. His breath caught in inexplicable anticipation.

  When he saw her walk by the window, the beer he’d been holding slipped from his fingers. By some miracle, it didn’t smash when it hit the table, the noise merging with cheers from patrons at the bar. He straightened and caught another glimpse of auburn-coloured hair twisted into a tight bun beneath her cap, not so much as a strand out of place.

  No! It wasn’t possible.

  At six foot two, he wasn’t short, but it didn’t give him a better vantage point when he stood. He leaned toward the window, the wrought-iron table’s edge digging into his thighs hard enough to leave bruises. He saw the twisted bun he fancied contained more hair pins than a porcupine owned quills. Next came the straight back beneath the dark tactical vest and the light blue shirt contrasted by navy blue epaulettes on her shoulders and sleeves. Last, but not least, the top of a backside he remembered was shapely, firm, and sexy as hell despite what the uniform concealed.

  He almost twisted his neck when she turned the corner.

  Brennan picked up his glass with an unsteady hand, gulped down the remains of his beer, and tried to drown the tight lump of guilt nestling in his throat.

  Was she wearing the vest because of him?

  He scanned the pub. Certain his actions hadn’t attracted anyone’s attention, he made his way outside. For a moment he stood in the doorway, his focus on the corner where she’d turned. Heart racing, he moved in the other direction. He needed to put distance between them. His boss would be angry, but he’d understand Brennan couldn’t hang around while a cop was patrolling. Especially not his former lover. An added detail he wouldn’t be sharing.

  He passed an alfresco café table, picked up a pair of dark sunglasses and hat and gave silent thanks to the person who’d forgotten them. It was easy to blend in. The hat hid his dark curls that more than one woman told him how they longed to run their fingers through it. Likewise, the glasses hid, as Ellie called them, his ‘bedroom eyes’. Dark and mysterious, she’d said they called to her soul and begged her to do wicked and primal things with him. He’d no problem with that. He’d used that seductive stare in his job too, but this was no time to be capturing anyone’s gaze, not when he needed to make a quick getaway. To be part of the crowd making its way to other west facing vistas. Still staring at the ocean, he walked into someone, knocking him over.

  “Fookin’ wanker,” the man swore as he dusted himself off, his hand rising as though he signalled to someone behind him before continuing along the pavement.

  Brennan glanced at the agitated man who gave him a one-fingered salute when he uttered a distracted, “Sorry.” He kept moving, his thoughts too consumed with Ellie to dwell on the man’s odd gesture.

  Ellie! Why did it have to be her? Why did it have to be now? And after all this time, why did she still set his pulse racing?

  A young family of redheads passed, their auburn tresses shining like fire in the afternoon sun, reminding him that’s what he first found attractive about her. No other woman he knew owned hair the colour of old-fashioned toffee, the kind his grandmother used to make for school fairs. And no one who wore it restrained with pins he’d been forever finding under his feet, in his clothes, and in their bed. Brennan grinned. He was the reason so many of the damned things were scattered over their flat. He’d never resisted the urge to set those gorgeous tresses free from their workday confines, just as he’d never resisted the love radiating from her denim-blue eyes.

  But not that terrible night almost three years ago. She didn’t look at him with love then. No, her expression turned from shock and disbelief to anger and the unerring sense of duty she’d developed while still a recruit. Back then, he’d been a nervous detective constable, unsure of himself and his capabilities, but eager to prove himself to his superiors.

  God, had it been that long?

  Brennan sighed. His boss would be pissed, and he’d have to work hard to make it up to him. With Ellie here, the best thing would be to leave town before she ruined everything. He couldn’t tell her the truth then, and he sure as hell couldn’t tell her now, not that she’d give him the chance. If she saw him, she’d shoot him. And considering what he’d done, he wouldn’t blame her.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ELLIE PERFORMED HER daily routine like an overzealous drill sergeant. Put on tactical vest. Retrieve gun from locker and place in holster of officer’s duty belt. Run thumbs under shirt collar to make sure the lapels are straight. Check cuffs of work trousers are even. Confirm shoes retained their polish and then ensure her regulation bun was intact.

  “What? We can’t all be perfect.” She grinned at Charlie’s bemused expression as they headed toward her office. “You have an advantage, Miss Charlie. A wash and blow dry with seasoned groomer, Nolan. Nails clipped by the new girl, Lucy. And to top it off, a puppy massage with Kayla. I mean, being looked after by the salon owner herself? Talk about spoilt.”

  Charlie appeared to agree with everything her handler said. Then a fly had the audacity to land on her nose, and her indignant expression made Ellie burst out laughing.

  “What the hell was that?” Senior Sergeant Clayton Wilson shouted from his office.

  A moment later, heavy footsteps sounded. Ellie and Charlie met him in the corridor. The middle-aged man’s scowl was a sign he’d seen too much of the seedier side of human nature, and it sickened him. Then, to Ellie’s surprise, he grinned.

  “‘Bout time, Marsden. I thought you didn’t know how.”

  “How to what, sir?”

  “Laugh, Marsden. How to bloody laugh.”

  His expression slid into the serious one she was used to seeing. Ellie wondered when her superior last saw the funnier side of things too.

  “But if you and your partner have finished mucking around, I need you to get over to the Sinclair’s place.”

  “The doctor’s surgery, sir?”

  “Yeah. They had a break-in overnight. Young Henderson was there earlier, securing the scene. Go see what you and Charlie can find. And make sure my constable didn’t miss anything.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Oh, and Marsden.”

  “Sir?”

  “It’s good to see you happy. I reckon it’s been a while.”

  ELLIE STARED FROM THE glass doorway where the thief or thieves entered the surgery and back to the lockable fridge cabinet. The gaps on its shelves showed drugs were the intended target. They’d gained access to the waiting area by covering the glass with duct tape to reduce noise when they smashed it, reached in, and unlocked the door. She glanced at Charlie, who was waiting in the connecting doorway, a gaze of uncertainty in her eyes.

  “I know, girl. Too many smells here, but I need your help. Come on.”

  Charlie took care stepping over the broken glass, then stood and waited for her next command. Ellie pointed downward at what looked like sand, but both turned around, startled, as Kayla burst into the room, an excited Maltese Terrier in her arms.

  “Dad! Mum! I heard what happened. Are you okay? Is an
yone hurt?”

  Ellie raised her hand. “It’s okay. Everyone’s fine. They’re both in your mum’s office.”

  While Kayla came to an abrupt halt, the fluffy bundle had other ideas. The little dog, so white he glowed under the bright lights of the clinic, scrambled from her hold on to the floor. He raced over to where Charlie stood, his excited yaps filling the room. His curved tail wagged as he tried to gain her attention.

  Oh, no! The glass.

  “Watch out for the glass,” Kayla cried.

  The little dog ignored her desperate plea, but he didn’t move closer to Charlie either.

  “Charlie’s not here to play. Not while she’s on duty,” Kayla tried again, her voice noticeably calmer. She favoured Ellie with an apologetic smile. “Come on, Jasper. Back here with me.” When he didn’t move, Kayla pulled an elastic band from her wrist. She twisted her shoulder-length, chestnut brown hair into a ponytail, slapped a hand onto her jean-clad thigh, lowered her voice and said, “Heel!”

  The Maltese Terrier came running back, Charlie’s stare suggesting she disapproved of his boisterous behaviour.

  “Sorry, Ellie,” Kayla said as she inspected Jasper’s paws before giving a relieved sigh. “I know he’s not supposed to be in here. Neither Mum nor Dad answered their phones, and I panicked.” Kayla took another look around and gasped. “Oh my God! Ellie. I ran straight into your crime scene. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “That’s okay. I understand. Looks like Henderson has everything under control.” Ellie regarded her friend. “Who else has access to the fridge cabinet besides your parents?”

  “No one. Mum and Dad are the only people qualified to administer the medications they keep here, so they’re the only ones with the access code.”

  “What about the backup key?”

  “Backup key?”

  “These lockable fridges come with a key in case of emergencies, or if someone forgets the code,” Ellie said. When Kayla continued to stare at her bug-eyed, she added, “Something similar happened during a case Charlie and I were working a few years ago. Your parents have the same brand.” Ellie considered the cabinet once again. “Same model too.”

  Dr Sinclair walked in from the office in time to hear her comment.

  “We keep the key in this drawer,” he said, giving his daughter’s shoulder a comforting squeeze as he passed and turned the corner. “At least, we did,” he added. He motioned them to follow him and revealed not only was the drawer broken into, it was also bereft of anything metallic. “I’m sorry, Ellie. You know what it’s like here. We’ve never had a reason not to trust our staff. It’s one of those simple lock types, and the key itself was unmarked. Even if they found it, I’m certain they wouldn’t have opened the fridges.”

  “And you have records of the pharmaceuticals you kept?”

  Dr Sinclair smiled. “We do. We’re well aware of the Schedule 8 laws. As are you, I see.” His easy grin disappeared as he checked the fridge cabinet. “We’re missing three bottles of Tramadol, a dozen vials of Ketamine, and five packs of Hydrocodone capsules, which means—”

  “Someone has painkillers, anaesthetic medication, and semi-synthetic opiates,” Ellie said. “They’re worth a small fortune on the drug market.”

  She ignored the doctor’s confirming nod and his daughter’s surprised expression. The M.O. was familiar. The way the thieves entered the surgery and targeted the fridge cabinet sparked recognition through her mind. She should talk to her superior and their constable, compare ideas. Ellie’s thoughts switched to the night she’d discovered her lover was a drug dealer and violating the laws he’d sworn to uphold and protect.

  Damn it! She’d trusted him, body, mind, and soul. That’s why his betrayal hurt so deep. Her side ached so she daren’t forget the truth. He’d shattered her heart, made a mockery of everything she believed in. Made a mockery of them. It made sense why he’d chosen that alley now. The buildings on both sides harboured a variety of practices and consultancies, from cosmetic to specialised treatments to everyday general practitioners. He’d been spoilt for choice and his accomplice was right there waiting. With so much product ‘on offer’, why would Brennan come to a small coastal town when the bigger cities offered more targets? She was missing something, but what?

  Ice filled her veins, its frigid chill spreading throughout her body, causing her to stiffen. She wanted to imagine it hardened her heart too until nothing remained but a solid lump. Damn the man! Brennan wouldn’t dare show his face here, not after everything he’d done. Rhythmic thudding reached her ears. Her heart beat was as strong as ever at the thought of his name. The coolness to which she clung vanished from areas that had no right to heat with unrequited desires.

  She’d show him! And her traitorous body. She didn’t need him. And if she ever saw him again, she’d make him sorry.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  BRENNAN SAT ON A COMFORTABLE chair in the room he shared with Johnny ‘The Candyman’ Navarro. Compared to most places they’d stayed in, Trinket Bay Bed and Breakfast was a palace. The excellent food meant he could dine like a king, although years of vicarious living meant he couldn’t eat much.

  He couldn’t recall an assignment he hated more than this one. On previous jobs, before he and Ellie began dating, he’d dressed as a homeless man. He’d eaten garbage straight from the trashcan while staking out a small-time dealer working from the back of his building complex. A better wardrobe came with his role as a high-class pimp. But punching his co-worker posing as one of his call girls for the sake of keeping their covers never sat well with him. He’d never forgiven himself for breaking her jaw either, even if the officer understood it was part of the job. Unlike Ellie, at least she’d known the truth.

  But this assignment, the one job he should have refused, the one that cost him everything—oh, this was a different level of hell. One he couldn’t escape.

  Decent sleep, much like redemption, was something he’d forsaken a long time ago. Was it because Johnny snored like an express train and a buzz-saw made a love-child the moment his head hit the pillow? Or because every time he closed his eyes, he pictured Ellie’s face, and her disbelieving gaze the second he realised he’d broken her heart. He’d never hated himself more than at that moment.

  A decibel-registering snort boomed through the darkened room, but Brennan remained motionless as his thoughts slipped back to Perth and that night in the alley.

  “GO! GET OUT OF HERE. I’ll take care of this mess. I’ll take care of everything.”

  The moment the truck turned the corner, he’d called triple zero.

  “Officer down!” He’d all but screamed the words. He gave them the location, told them her blood type, explained it was a gunshot wound, and hung up. He’d ditch the phone soon enough. When he dropped to the ground beside her, blood soaked through his jeans as he’d knelt in the warmth seeping from her side. Seconds later a metallic scent invaded his nostrils, and stickiness coated his hands as he’d pressed them into her wound, desperate to stop the bleeding. He didn’t dare give in to his rising panic at the amount of blood, wouldn’t contemplate how much of the stuff coated the ground, her clothes, and him.

  He’d gritted his teeth, uttered a fervent prayer, and eased her onto her back. Then he slipped off his leather glove and touched the back of his knuckles to her cheek. For a moment, clammy skin stuck to his flesh. His hand moved lower, following the curves he knew intimately. The warmth he knew from nights when she lay pressed tight against him was gone. And now her body was cooling, her blood tacky and already clotting.

  Charlie growled. Menace laced with a whimper. She was warning him. He’d accepted that, but perhaps she’d understood he was trying to help. Ellie groaned, but she didn’t protest when he pulled her shirt from her trousers and exposed the wound.

  “Jesus, Ellie, what a frigging mess. Why the hell did you follow me? Tonight, of all nights?”

  Beside her, the dog gave him a baleful glare.

  “Damn it, Char
lie. I had no choice. I had to shoot her. It’s the only way I could keep you both safe.”

  Ellie moaned, but she was drifting away.

  “Hang on, baby. Help is coming.”

  He wasn’t a religious man, but he’d thanked God his boss’s shot missed. Even in the alleyway’s dimness, he could see his own bullet went straight through her side. A miracle shot, but he’d hoped he’d missed hitting any vital organs, that it only tore through muscle and flesh. He’d made her as comfortable as possible before pressing his hands against her side again.

  “Stay with me, Ellie. Promise me you will. Hold on and one day you might forgive me. You’ll understand why I—”

  He’d tilted his head and caught the wail of an ambulance siren as it closed in. He’d stayed a moment longer, keeping pressure on her wound, praying she’d be okay. Another mournful whimper had drawn his attention to Charlie. He stared when she’d inched closer, her cold nose snuffling against his neck. Perhaps she was deciding whether he was friend or foe. If she’d wanted, she could tear out his throat. No sooner had the thought manifested than Charlie moved to rest her muzzle on Ellie’s chest, close to her injury.

  “Brennan?”

  Ellie’s voice was faint, weak. A single word and it shattered his heart. He couldn’t answer. Couldn’t bring himself to speak.

  Lights flashed at the far end of the alleyway. The ambulance was navigating the narrow opening. Brennan knew a patrol car would be close behind. He’d stood and spotted two shell casings revealed by the ambulance’s high beam. Not three feet above them, lodged in the mortar of a building almost a century old, were the bullets. The last thing he’d needed was for forensics to identify them. With seconds to spare, he’d prised them from the crumbling cement and retrieved the casings. He’d mouthed a heartfelt apology to Charlie, taken one last, longing look at Ellie, and ran.