Her Deadliest Mission by Rachel Lee

Author:Rachel Lee
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2020-10-21T20:04:06+00:00

Chapter 2

Sheriff Trace responded to the call from the Kowa Nation one hour later, passing the border patrol checkpoint just off their rez and knowing that would only further ruffle feathers. Likely, this was also the work of Rylee Hockings.

Homeland Security Agent Hockings didn’t look like trouble, as she sat small and sullen in the seat beside the desk of the Kowa Mohawk Reservation’s acting chief of police. But having already met her, he could not help but take in the moment. Having ignored his advice and dismissed him like the help, there was a certain satisfaction in seeing her in wrist restraints.

He didn’t know the exact point when his moment to gloat changed into a completely different kind of study, but he now noticed that Rylee Hockings had a heart-shaped face, lips the color of the flesh of a ripe watermelon and large, expressive brown eyes with elegant arching brows that were the brown of dry pine needles. Her straight, fine blond hair fell forward, making her flushed cheeks seem even pinker. Their eyes met, and her brow descended. Her lids cinched as she squinted at him with open hostility.

Axel could not resist smiling. “The next time I ask you if you’d like an escort, maybe don’t flip me the bird.”

“I didn’t flip you off.” Her reply was a bark, like a dog that might be either frightened or angry but either way sent clear signs for him to back off.

“No, I believe you said that when you wanted the help of a sheriff who was dumb enough to lock his keys in his cruiser, you’d ask for it.”

He glanced at her wrists, secured with a wide plastic zip tie and hammering up and down on the knees of her navy slacks as if sending him a message in Morse code. He wondered why federal agents always advertised their profession with the same outfits. A blazer, dress shirt and slacks with a practical heel was just not what folks wore up here.

“I didn’t say dumb enough. I said careless enough.”

He glanced to the acting chief of police, Sorrel Vasta, who said, “Potato, Pa-tot-o.”

“I also mentioned that the Kowa tribe does not do drop-in visits,” said Axel.

“Especially from feds,” added Vasta. He folded his arms across his chest, which just showed off how very thin and young he really was.

“This,” said Agent Hockings, “is federal land. As a federal officer, I do not need permission—”

“You are a trespasser on the Mohawk Nation. We are within our rights to—”

Whatever rights Vasta might have been about to delineate were cut short by the blast of a shotgun.

Hockings threw herself from the chair to the floor as Vasta ducked behind the metal desk. Axel dropped, landing beside Hockings, pressed shoulder to shoulder.

“Shots fired,” she called, reaching for her empty holster with her joined hands and then swearing under her breath.

“Who are you yelling to exactly?” Axel asked. “We all heard it.”

She pressed those pink lips together and scowled, then she scrambled along the floor, undulating in a way that made his hairs stand up and electricity shiver over his skin.

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