That Reckless Night

The echo of a slamming door reverberated in Jeremiah’s memory. Damn, he had to stop traveling down memory lane. That neighborhood had been demolished. He sighed and shook off the morose bent of his thoughts. Sometimes he was just plain tired of feeling bad. Last night with Miranda had shown him that it was possible to feel good again. It sucked about the circumstances...he had a feeling that he and Miranda could’ve made some beautiful sparks together.

* * *

MIRANDA RAPPED THREE times on the solid door of Ocalena’s house but didn’t wait for an answer and simply let herself in. She knew she was always welcome in this house. Johnny’s mother loved her like a daughter, possibly even more than she’d loved her son when he’d been alive. But then, Johnny had been a two-bit criminal who took advantage of every single person who crossed his path, including his own mother. So it wasn’t a stretch for Miranda to stand out and gain points with the old Yupik woman.

Miranda’s eight-year-old son, the light of her life and the reason she got up in the morning, ran into her arms. “Mama!” Miranda forgot about everything else that was going wrong in her life and simply embraced her son and inhaled the scent of her wild boy.

“Were you good for your mamu?”

“Yep,” Talen said, breaking the embrace to show Miranda what he’d made. He held up a rudimentary carving and beamed at his handiwork. “Mamu said I’m a natural. Do you think so, Mama?”

“Absolutely. Carving is in your blood, sweet cheeks. Remember, your poppy is a carver on my side, and it’s on your dad’s side, too. It’s in your heritage.”

Talen giggled and bounded off to continue his next project while Mamu and Miranda caught up. Miranda didn’t know why the old Yupik woman made her feel more at home than her own mother, but when Miranda walked through that familiar door, all the tension simply dropped from her shoulders—which given the anniversary of her sister’s death was a grace she desperately needed.

“Thanks for keeping him,” Miranda said, suddenly feeling very fatigued. She didn’t need to explain herself to Ocalena, but the words started to flow anyway. “I know I should find a better way to deal with Simone’s death, but my good intentions never seem to go very far when it comes down to the actual date on the calendar. It still hurts to think of her. When will that pain ever go away?”

Mamu took a break from the fish stew simmering on the old gas stove and joined Miranda on the ratty, lumpy sofa. She gazed at Miranda with knowing in her dark brown eyes. “You ask the wrong questions. It isn’t when will the pain go away...it is when will you accept that it wasn’t your fault.”

“I know,” she said but Mamu shook her head. There was no bullshitting the woman. Miranda didn’t even know why she tried. “Logically I tell myself it wasn’t my fault. Bad things happen, but I can’t help but wonder how things might’ve been different if I hadn’t been such a jerk about a stupid sweater that I can’t even remember any longer. Simone is gone because of that one decision.”

“No. Simone is gone because a bad man took her. When you finally take that to heart, you will no longer suffer as you do.”

Yeah, probably but not likely. More’s the pity. It might be nice to live without a constant reminder of her guilt. “I have a new boss,” she said abruptly. Maybe she thought she needed to confess her sins because the words were tripping from her mouth as if shoved. “He seems decent enough.” Mamu’s eyes were wise and she smiled, waiting for Miranda to come clean. “I, sort of, met him informally before the rest of the team.”

Mamu chuckled, reading between the lines, but all she said was, “A warm body on a cold night is a good thing.”

“Not when that warm body turns out to be your boss,” she muttered, and Mamu sighed, her eyes twinkling. “You’re incorrigible. I could get fired for something like this.”

“Bah. It’s no one’s business. More people should spend less time with their nose in other people’s business and more time tending to their own. Is he nice?”

“Nice? In what way?” Miranda asked cautiously. “I mean, he’s very professional, very buttoned-down, which is obviously what the administration was looking for since they picked him over me, but I can’t say much more because I don’t know him.”

“Nothing more telling than seeing how a person acts in their birthday suit,” Mamu said, disagreeing. Miranda’s cheeks heated but Mamu shrugged. “You’re a grown woman and a mother besides. What does your heart tell you about the man?”

Miranda startled. “My heart?” she nearly squeaked. “My heart doesn’t say anything. My heart wasn’t involved. My heart only has room for one little man and that’s my son.”

“A son like Talen is a blessing, but someday Talen will go find his own path and will leave his mother behind. What then? This path you’re walking will lead to many cold nights and an empty bed.”

“Well, that’s a long time from now,” Miranda said, uncomfortable with Mamu’s wisdom. She didn’t like the idea of being alone for the rest of her life, but she wasn’t interested in finding out what she could do to change that possible future, either. “Even if I was mildly open to the idea of finding someone to share a future with, it certainly wouldn’t be with my new boss. That’s just an invitation for bad luck.” Miranda stifled a yawn, ready to put an end to the day and the current conversation. “I feel run over. Get your stuff, buddy. Mama needs to hit the bed soon.”

Mamu shuffled off to ladle some fish stew for Miranda to take home, and then after hugging her tightly she sent her on her way.

Later that night after she’d wolfed down the stew, bathed Talen and read him a story and then put him to bed, she fell into her bed and expected sleep to claim her within minutes. But that didn’t happen. Instead, she caught a whiff of Jeremiah’s cologne still clinging to her sheets and immediately fell into a sensual memory of everything they’d done in that very bed less than twenty-four hours ago. God help her, she rolled onto her stomach and buried her nose in one of the pillows to inhale deeply. Why’d he have to smell so good?

She pulled the pillow to her and hugged it tight. It was a full minute before she realized how ridiculous she was being and actually tossed the pillow to the floor. She wasn’t the kind of woman who did that sort of thing and the fact that she’d just done that made her a little ill. That was it, she grumbled to herself as she kicked the covers free and began ripping the sheets from the bed and tossing them into the laundry hamper. I’m not going to spend all night assaulted by Jeremiah’s lingering scent in my bed. She made quick, angry work of changing her sheets, and then once she was satisfied nothing remained of Jeremiah, she climbed back into the bed and fell into an exhausted sleep.

Too bad her dreams were hot, steamy—and filled with Jeremiah.

So much for stripping the sheets for peace of mind.

CHAPTER SIX

EARLY NEXT MORNING Jeremiah found Miranda in her office already working. He recognized her drive as a trait he had himself and couldn’t help but admire her tenacious spirit, even if he knew that same drive might cause friction between them at some point.

“I read your poaching reports,” he stated reluctantly. She looked up and waited for him to continue. “Very thorough,” he admitted.

“Thank you. They have to be thorough to catch the bastards. What did you think?”

Jeremiah took a seat opposite her. “Tell me more about the bear carcasses.”

“The first carcass showed up two years ago. The hands, feet and gallbladder had been removed and there’d been some kind of grease smeared on the trees, which had served as bait, luring the bear to his death. That summer we found seven bears killed in the same way but we were never able to track the poachers.”

“Black-market trade for bear parts is very lucrative. We faced similar issues in Wyoming. As long as there’s a market for illegal animal parts, there will always be poachers.” Poachers were difficult to find and even harder to prosecute as they were lower-tier criminals in the justice system. Fining a convicted poacher wasn’t a stiff enough sentence, in Jeremiah’s opinion. He hoped there was a special area of hell reserved just for poachers, rapists and child molesters, but not everyone agreed that poachers represented the same level of threat, which resulted in budget cuts that reduced the number of rangers who kept the poachers in line. “They must know something about erasing the tracks if you couldn’t find them.” His statement wasn’t a dig and he was glad she didn’t take it that way, either. “What else do we know about them? Their habits? The territory they target?”

Her eyes lit up with something that looked like respect for his interest and she readily gave up all the information she had. “I think they have a tracker with them. They definitely know how to clear their tracks, how to avoid capture. Only someone who knows this area and knows what they’re doing could evade us for this long. I think if we had more resources we could finally catch these bastards.”

“Resources in this economy are hard to come by. As you know, the state is running lean, as most states are these days.”

“Someone has to take a stand and send a message.”

“I’d love to be that man, but the budget doesn’t have much wiggle room. I appreciate and understand your passion but we have to prioritize our resources.”

She frowned. “Why’d you even read my reports if you had no intention of helping me with the cases?”

“If it were in my power I’d give you the resources you need but the budget represents a pie that everyone wants a slice of. You’re a smart woman—you know how it works.”

“I’d hoped that things would be different with some new blood but I can tell you’re just as disinterested in rocking the boat as Virgil was.”

“Miranda, I’m not saying you can’t work to catch these poachers. You’ve gathered some thorough notes and information. I’m sure what you’re doing will help the cause.”

“Please don’t patronize me. It’s not necessary.”

“I’m not patronizing you in any way—I’m being honest with you.”

Miranda’s gaze cut away from his, plainly disappointed in his answers. He didn’t want to give her false hope that he’d suddenly find a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow when budget time rolled around. “If it means anything, I support what you’re doing. But since I’m the new guy, I can’t really go and start adding more personnel, new equipment and additional costs to an already-tight budget. I wanted to read the reports because I’m interested and I wanted to show you that I care about what my team members are working on.”

Miranda jerked a short nod but asked, “Have you ever come across the mutilated corpse of an animal knowing full well that animal was butchered illegally for the purpose of greed?”

“Yes, when I was a ranger. It sucks and I understand your anger, but you have to be smart about this.”

“Being smart never seems to get the results I need. Maybe it’s time to be reckless.”

He shot her a warning glance. “You’re angry,” he stated. “Once you simmer down you’ll regret anything you do in a fit of frustration.”

A hot and ready disagreement brimmed in her eyes but she held it back. She may well have been choking on the words she wanted to say, but she managed to give him a curt nod, then said, “You’re the boss,” and effectively ended the conversation by returning to her office.

Jeremiah hated the friction between them so early in their working relationship. Even though he couldn’t hire anyone else to help with the poaching problem, maybe he could spare a little of his own time to give the situation a fresh look. He considered the mountain of administrative paperwork he had to shuffle through and resigned himself to more late nights staring blearily at reams of paper. He rejoined Miranda in her office. She looked up warily. “Did you forget something?”

“I agree a fresh pair of eyes could help the case. Why don’t you take me out to the site where the bears were found.”

Her brow rose. “You want to survey the site? Why?”

“I don’t know the area and it would be helpful to get an actual view of the landscape instead of only seeing pictures. Gives me a better mental picture.”

“So me and you...tromping around in the wild together?”

“Is there a problem?”

“Not with me. I’m fine. I’m surprised you’d want to do that, is all.”

“I didn’t always start off behind a desk,” he said, deliberately ignoring the other point she was hinting at. He could handle alone time with her without suffering anything inappropriate. “I’d like to get started on this right away. I have this afternoon free. How about you?”

“I suppose I can move some things around.”

“Great. Since you know the area, how about you drive?”

“I’m surprised you trust a woman driver,” she said.

“Are you a bad driver?” he asked bluntly.

“Of course not.”

“And why would I have a problem with you driving? My masculinity is not in question here.” At that a faint blush rose to the tips of her cheeks, and he knew what she was thinking of because he was thinking of the same thing. He allowed a faint smile. “I’ll see you after lunch.”

* * *

THE MINUTE JEREMIAH left her office Miranda let out a long breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She rubbed at her chest where it ached from the tension and mulled Jeremiah’s offer. She’d hoped to convince him to let her hire a part-timer to help her sift through evidence, files and do more survey hikes around the area last affected, but she certainly hadn’t expected the man to offer up his own time. Virgil had always been so tightfisted around budget time that it’d been nearly impossible to shake loose enough cash to purchase more than a few extra paper clips for the office. Maybe getting Jeremiah out into the field would be to her advantage. Perhaps some hands-on fieldwork would prompt Jeremiah to look for more creative ways to massage the budget to her favor. Maybe...

Except, she didn’t want to work with Jeremiah; she didn’t want to be around Jeremiah; she didn’t want to do anything that would put her in close proximity with Jeremiah.

And that certainly included tromping around in the forest with the man.

But, as she’d quipped with a fair amount of snark, he was the boss, so what choice did she have? She’d always loved animals, even as a kid. Maybe it was because her mom was too busy ignoring her, but animals always provided entertainment, and love, so when she found creatures being abused, whether they were wild or tame, it drove her batty. And it also sliced at a raw nerve that she hadn’t been able to catch those damn poachers yet. It was as if they were thumbing their noses at her and laughing behind her back that she hadn’t been able to nail them to the wall. Preventing and catching poachers was not only her passion, but it was part of her job description, and it made no sense to her that more resources weren’t being thrown at this problem.

She’d been planning to stop by her parents’ house today but that would have to wait. She wasn’t about to drag Jeremiah with her over there and have him see all the dysfunction running wild through her family tree. She’d already broken enough rules when it came to her relationship with her boss. She certainly didn’t need to add trying to explain why her mother had a borderline hoarding compulsion and her father was growing marijuana in a greenhouse operation. Miranda pinched the bridge of her nose. No, she definitely didn’t want him to know that.

If only her brothers would take more of an interest in helping her deal with their parents. Trace, her second-oldest brother, was an antisocial hermit who avoided people at all costs, including his own family, and Wade, her oldest brother, was too busy in California pretending he didn’t have any family at all. So that left Miranda to pick up the pieces, hold it all together and deal with the overall craziness that was thrown her way on an everyday basis.

Even as she allowed herself a minor pity party, her gaze strayed to the small portrait photo of her son on her desk. Talen’s wide and unabashed smile as he held up his first fish warmed her heart. If it weren’t for Talen she’d have given up a long time ago. He was the reason her life had taken a turn for the better even if her pregnancy had been a shock.

She remembered the day vividly.

She’d been sick all day and Johnny hadn’t been the least bit sympathetic.

“Catch a bug or something?” Johnny lit a cigarette. The corners of his mouth tilted up at her misfortune as he blew a smoke ring her way. “Maybe you need to smoke some weed.”

She sent him a withering stare. “Last I checked you aren’t a doctor, so shut up.”

“Don’t have to be a bitch about it. Just trying to help.” Johnny took a long drag off his cigarette. “You buy any food when you went to the store?”

The thought of food made her stomach rebel. “No, and don’t talk about food,” she snapped, just as she ran for the toilet yet again to lose the remaining contents of her stomach.

At first she’d thought it was the flu. But then she realized she rarely got that sick. And one thought led to another until she was staring at the realization that her troubles were not caused by a virus. She took a test the next morning. It’d been positive.

“So you’re saying I’m going to be a daddy?” Johnny had asked when she told him the news. But the moment she told him she’d wished she could have taken the words back. She didn’t want Johnny to have any part in raising her child. Johnny wasn’t the kind of man who should’ve been around children, animals or even plant life.

It was at that moment that she realized she couldn’t keep living the way she was living. Not if she was bringing a child into the world. A child deserved more. Certainly more than Johnny could ever offer. She’d considered lying to him and saying she was going to get an abortion. But lying was a temporary fix for a permanent problem. The minute Johnny knew she was still pregnant he’d want to have contact with his kid. The dilemma kept Miranda awake at night. Until one day, her problem resolved itself. Johnny got busted for drugs—and it was his third strike. Miranda knew she shouldn’t revel in someone else’s misfortune, but the day they took Johnny into custody, she’d experienced a sense of relief. And when she’d received the call that he had died in prison, it was the most that she could do to work up a single tear. The fact was Johnny was a bad person who’d probably done the world a favor by taking a dirt nap.

The only residual regret that Miranda experienced was when she had to explain to her son why his father wasn’t around. She wished she could tell him a story about how his father had died some noble death. The kind of death a soldier, a cop or a fireman might have, saving others, perhaps. There just wasn’t a way to pretty up the fact that Talen’s father had been a selfish, rude and wholly self-centered man who’d done and said bad things nearly every day of his miserable life.

God, she’d been so stupid to hook up with Johnny. At the time she’d been on a self-destructive streak and Johnny had seemed just the right amount of dangerous to satisfy her need for chaos. She met him shortly after Simone had died. She’d been heartsick, guilt ridden and overwhelmed with regret. Johnny must’ve homed in on those markers because he moved in on her like a bird of prey after a mouse.

The first couple of months had been great. Their sex life had been the stuff of X-rated movies—exciting and dirty—and for a while she really thought she loved him. And even if she wasn’t sure about her true feelings for Johnny, she knew for certain that she loved his mother. Likely, it’d been her relationship with Mamu that had kept her around longer than she should have stayed, but there was no point in guessing at this point. By the time Miranda had started to pull herself out of the skid and realized that Johnny wasn’t a healthy choice for a partner, it’d been a challenge to break ties.

Her pregnancy had allowed for a certain sense of clarity that’d been missing before and enabled her to think clearly for the first time since Simone had died.

Johnny had been proof that anyone could father a child but not every man was cut out to be a dad. And although Talen looked so much like Johnny, Miranda was ensuring that they were nothing alike.

It was hard to look at Talen’s face and see anything but the sweetest, most amiable boy ever created. And she couldn’t imagine life without him.

Thank God, Johnny had never had a single day of influence on the boy. For that, she was immensely grateful.

Talen was the reason she never brought men home with her when he was home, why she never introduced Talen to any of her boyfriends—though the term boyfriend was a stretch, because she rarely allowed them to hang around long enough to require stashing a toothbrush at the house. She didn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea. She wasn’t looking for a daddy figure for her son, which was a change from the usual single-mama drama that happened in town. Nope. Not looking for daddy material. Just a friend with benefits.

Her thoughts strayed to Jeremiah, and for a moment she allowed her mind to drift over the details from the night before. Jeremiah’s friendship would’ve been a wonderful benefit. Just remembering their time together made her shiver with awareness.

Okay, enough of that nonsense.

She shook her head, trying to dislodge the imagery, and scooped up her papers as she stabbed the power button to shut down her computer. Miranda didn’t know how she’d manage to forget all she and Jeremiah had done, but she’d have to figure out a way because at the moment it seemed downright impossible to work side by side with the man and not want to stick her tongue down his throat.

And that just made her grouchy.

CHAPTER SEVEN

JEREMIAH CLIMBED INTO Miranda’s Range Rover and immediately noted how tidy the interior was. “Not a fan of clutter, I see.”

It was true she didn’t care for clutter, possibly because her mother was such a pack rat, but the fact that he noticed just how meticulous she was with her vehicle made her shift uncomfortably. It was as if he’d somehow caught a glimpse into her inner psyche and that left her feeling vulnerable and exposed. “And in your experience are most women comfortable with a mess?” Generally, she hated when someone answered a question with another question but she couldn’t help herself when it came to Jeremiah. Just being around him put her on the defensive. “It’s not so much that I hate clutter—it’s that I hate disorganization. I like being able to find whatever I need, when I need it.” Why was she explaining herself? She should’ve just left her answer and moved on. “How about we only talk about work rather than personal details?”

“I make you uncomfortable.”

“Of course you do.” Why should she lie? “But given our relationship, aren’t you uncomfortable, as well?”

“I thought we agreed to act as adults?”

Of course he would point out that she was being the difficult one. She glared for lack of a good defense. He held her stare. Finally, she shrugged and admitted, “We did.”

He released a sigh as if disappointed. “What if we hadn’t met the way we did? Would that have changed our relationship?”

She shot him a warning glance. “I don’t deal in hypotheticals. We can’t change the fact that we know each other intimately. I would love to step back in time and redo that decision but we can’t. What happened, happened. We just have to deal with it. But the more you bring it up, the more it’s in our faces. We need to be able to work together as peers and we won’t be able to do that if you keep talking about what we did.”

She didn’t know if she was angry with him because he kept bringing it up or if she was just angry at the circumstances, but she couldn’t prevent the snap in her tone. The fact was, as much as she tried to bury it, the memory of their night together continued to badger her at the worst moments. She wanted to lean in to catch a whiff of his cologne; her gaze was drawn to every muscular line in his body. The fact that she couldn’t push him from her mind as readily as any other man from her past irritated her.