The Right Kind of Trouble
By Shiloh Walker
In the small Southern town of McKay’s Treasure, everybody knows that the handsome local police chief, Gideon Marshall, has been carrying a torch for Moira McKay. It’s also no secret that Moira has been rejecting Gideon since…forever. But after an attack from a mysterious stranger bent on taking down the McKay family, Moira becomes filled with distrust toward most men. Now she wonders whether she’s been wrong about Gideon all along—and if it’s not too late to admit him back into her life…and into her bed…
Gideon has finally convinced his wasted heart to give up on Moira, who he’s loved since he was sixteen years old. Moira’s attack changes everything, however—and he vows to protect her. But how much is he willing to risk for a woman who’s always kept him at bay…until now? And is it too late for Moira to tell him that her love for him has always been locked deep in her heart—and he holds the key?
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“If you throw one more thing at me, I’m going to arrest you for assault, you hear me?” He jabbed a finger at her.
Moira flipped him off and stomped over to the small secretary along the wall, just a few feet away. He swore and turned away. Something small hit him in the shoulder. He had no idea what the projectile was and he didn’t care. “That’s it, damn it.” Spinning around, he crossed the room, pulling the cuffs of his belt.
Only to stop.
She was scrawling a message on a piece of paper.
Fine, you SOB. Go ahead. When I need you…
She hadn’t managed to write anything else.
“What?” he asked, his voice rough.
She stood there, head bowed over her note. Her fingers were trembling. Her shoulders rose and fell as her breathing sawed out in broken, irregular stops and starts.
His cuffs hung useless in his hand. He stared at them and turned away, lifting his head to stare at the ceiling. “What are we doing to each other?” he asked softly. “What the fuck, Moira?”
The faintest scratching sound caught his ear.
He turned, but what he really wanted to do was leave before they bruised each other even more.
She was no longer by the delicate little desk.
She stood by the window, staring outside.
But the note was there.
I need you and you’re leaving me.
“You don’t need me, Moira,” he said quietly. “Save for Brannon and Neve, you don’t need anybody.”
He took the piece of paper and folded it, first in half, then in fours, tucking it into his pocket.
Then he turned and walked to the door.
He turned the handle, the hinges creaking slightly. He stopped, though, pain splitting through him. There had been one time, exactly one, when he’d hurt like this and it had been the day she told him she couldn’t be with him.
Now, here he was trying to pull away just to save what little remained of his soul and…
Slim hands came up to grip his waist.
He closed his eyes.
Slowly, he turned, telling himself that he was going to pull away. He’d walk out the door. He’d turn this case over to his best man and keep his distance until he could get the hell of Treasure.
But she had tears on her face and when he reached up to wipe them away, she turned her cheek into his palm.
Her breath was a soft kiss against his hand and he knew it was already over for him.
He was done, already caught back in her orbit. Damn them both.