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Before she opened the door to a possible killer.
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Chapter Nine
Rafe’s every instinct was to move in front of Bree. To protect her from this potential threat. But she was a cop, and there was no way she would appreciate his playing hero. That didn’t mean though that he wouldn’t step up if the situation called for it.
One look at Buckner and Rafe thought it might call for it.
His impression was the same as when he’d first seen Buckner’s photo. The man looked like a seedy criminal with a thin veneer of polish. Just enough polish and possible charm that he could have lured someone like Tessa right in.
And then maybe killed her.
Maybe killed Dani and the unidentified woman as well. Rafe didn’t know how yet, but everything was connected to this one asshole who was now inches away from Bree and him.
An oily smile stretched across Buckner’s mouth, and he extended his hand to Bree. “I’m Callum Buckner,” he said. “And if you’re Sheriff Bree O’Neil, I understand you’ve been looking for me.”
“Yes,” Bree verified, her voice edged with ice. “I didn’t expect you to come to my home though. How’d you find out where I live?”
“I keep a really good PI on retainer,” Buckner answered. “I can give you his name if you like.”
There was ice in Buckner’s voice, too, but he was coating it with more of that damn veneer. Rafe rarely despised someone on sight, but he made an exception in this guy’s case.
“No, thank you,” Bree fired back. “I wanted to question you about…a lot of things.”
Buckner outstretched his hands in a cockyhere I amgesture. “I’m in between appointments and can spare you a half hour. I suppose we could eat up some of that time by driving to the police station, or you can just ask your questions now.” He fanned the side of his jacket. “Though it’s leaning toward hotter than hell out here, so let’s do it inside.”
Buckner looked at Rafe then as if just noticing him. Another façade. The man had noticed him all right and had already sized him up. Ditto for the two muscled goons who stood just behind Buckner.
“Callum Buckner,” he said, extending a hand to Rafe.
He didn’t shake it. “Rafe Cross.”
Buckner’s eyes widened, and he dropped back a step while pressing his hand to his heart. “Boys, we’re in the presence of a celebrity. This istheRafe Cross from Maverick Ops. He works for Ruby Maverick.”
“You know Ruby?” he asked.
“I know of her. Know of you, too,” Buckner added.
For just a moment, the veneer slipped, and Rafe saw the slime behind it. The disappointment, too. Maybe Buckner had thought he could come here and intimidate Bree if she’d been alone. But the man clearly didn’t know Bree. She wasn’t the sort for intimidation.
“You can come inside and talk,” Bree finally said to Buckner. “Only you. Your employees can wait outside.”
Buckner looked ready to argue that, but then he shrugged. “Wait in the truck,” he muttered to them. “I won’t be long. And if I need protection, I’ve got the celebrity Rafe Cross for that.”
Obviously, Buckner had heard some things, maybe about Rafe's missions. More likely though he’d “heard” those things from that PI he kept on retainer. By now, Buckner probablyknew a hell of a lot more about Bree and him than they did about him.
That was about to change.
Bree showed him in, motioning for him to take a seat in one of the chairs in the living room. She sat across from him on the sofa. Rafe stayed standing, positioning himself so he could keep an eye on Buckner and the goons. From the window, he saw the two men leaning against the truck, and they had their attention pinned to the house. One sound of trouble, and they’d no doubt rush right in.
“Hope you don’t mind me pointing this out,” Buckner commented, “but you two look like you’ve had the shit beat out of you. Those are some serious bruises and cuts. Did that happen in the explosion I heard about?”
“How did you hear about that?” Rafe wanted to know.
“The PI. That man is a regular font of information.” His voice was laced with sarcasm.
“I’m going to Mirandize you,” Bree interrupted, and before Buckner could respond, she started reading him his rights. Buckner tried to seem amused by it, but there was that sliver of real emotion again. Fury, this time. “Would you like to have your lawyer present?” she tacked onto the reciting. “You probably have a really good one on retainer.”
