Page 5 of Sergeant's Christmas Siege

And there was... something else in the way he said that. It shivered all the way down the length of her back. Kate sat taller, but the glint in his dark eyes told her he knew why.

When he couldn’t. Of course he couldn’t.

“Let’s get back to this latest incident two nights ago. I’m assuming you know the details.”

“I know the details because I know a thing or two about explosives,” Templeton said, which was agreeing without incriminating himself, as Kate was certain he knew. “And I tend to take a dim view of them being used in the place where I live. Call it a weird preference of mine if you want. So, yeah, I’m aware that some joker blew up a boat. Until your office called us, we figured it was the usual drunk nonsense. Because, let’s face it, out here it usually is.”

“Was it drunk nonsense that knocked your friend Rory on the head and left him tied up for a few hours last spring?”

“My recollection is that he fell.”

“That’s not even a good lie. A man like you can do better. I’m sure of it.”

“First, how can a recollection be a lie? You know what memories are like. So unreliable. And second, what do you mean by ‘a man like me’?”

Kate smiled. “This whole performance. Swaggering in late. Lounging around like you don’t have a care in the world. I understand why they picked you to be their ambassador. You seem so friendly. So approachable, until a person realizes that it’s all a show. And I saw your face when you walked in the door. Before you started smiling so much. I think that’s probably a whole lot closer to the real Templeton Cross.”

She didn’t know when the tension between them had gotten so thick, but she didn’t do anything to break it. She waited, her gaze steady on his, to see what he would do.

To see who he was.

“I’m pretty sure there’s only one Templeton Cross,” he said after a beat, his voice a deep, amused rumble. “I don’t keep extra ones in a jar by the door.” He tapped a lazy finger on the table between them. Kate figured he was reminding her of his intense physicality, the way men often did. Though she didn’t usually feel it inside her, as if he’d stroked her with that finger. “Life isn’t a Beatles song, you know.”

“I read your military file, and what wasn’t classified made it pretty clear that you’re one of the most dangerous men alive today. And what I have to ask myself is why a man with your background would spend so much time trying to convince me that he’s a tabby cat.”

“A tabby cat?” Kate thought she heard another snort from the kitchen. “I can tell you with one hundred percent honesty that I have never attempted to act like a tabby cat in my entire life.”

“You’re only making this worse for yourself,” Kate said softly. “You’re making me wonder what you’re trying to hide. And here’s the thing about me that you should know because, of course, you don’t have access tomyfile.”

But when she said that, something in his face changed. And she wondered if that little flicker she saw in his dark eyes meant that he did indeed have a file on her. The way ex-military types probably would. She would have to assume he did.

Kate kept going. “When I start wondering about things, it tends to lead to investigations. And those investigations tend to lead to convictions. Incarcerations. You get where I’m going with this.”

“I can’t say I’m a big fan of cages. Or courtrooms.”

“Then I suggest you help me.”

“I’m nothing if not helpful.” His gaze got significantly more intense when he stopped smiling. “How about this? Alaska Force is being framed.”

Two

Templeton Cross was not a man who indulged his temper.

If he had been, he wouldn’t have been here now. He would have been off venting his spleen in the manner he knew best—which usually involved kicking butt, taking names, and making sure he utilized each and every lethal skill he’d been taught so well in the United States Army.

But it didn’t matter that someone had dared to come for his brothers-in-arms. It didn’t matter that whoever it was had been circling around Alaska Force and Grizzly Harbor since sometime in the summer, the best they could figure.

It didn’t matter that Templeton was a man of action who far too often these days found himself shoehorned into his alternate persona. The one where he was so freaking charming he sometimes thought he might choke on his own smile.

None of that mattered, because the Alaska State Troopers had come calling, and it was Templeton’s job to handle it. He’d learned a long time ago that the only thing that mattered was his mission. Usually he believed that totally.

Today shouldn’t have been any different.

“You think you’re being framed,” said the woman across from him at an exposed table in the Water’s Edge Café instead of the more private table Templeton preferred. As if she was humoring him.

Trooper Holidaykept a pleasant expression on her face, but her cool brown eyes were cop straight through. And it had been a long, long while since Templeton had seen that particular look directed his way. It amazed him that he could still feel the same kick he had when he’d been an angry, grieving teenager on a self-destructive rampage. Back then he’d seen that look all the time from every police officer in the greater Vidalia, Louisiana, area.

He couldn’t say he cared for the sensation. Nostalgia wasn’t his thing. So he smiled instead.

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