Lover Beware

getting him there.
    Parker approached with a set of cuffs.
    Michael’s expression grew colder. “You won’t need those.”
    “Winslow Central advises differently.”
    “Because I’m SAS?” Michael swore beneath his breath and allowed himself to be cuffed. “Didn’t anyone tell them we’re supposed to be the good guys?”
    Tucker retrieved his warrant and took a half step back, as if, even cuffed, he was afraid Michael might harm him. Michael decided that was the first sensible thing Tucker had done in the last half hour.
    “I know you’re SAS, Rider. And I don’t like this any more than you do, but there’s a man dead, and a woman hurt in hospital. I have to play it as it comes.”
    “And in this case I guess I’m the easy option because I’m military and not local. Hell, I’ve only lived here for fifteen years.”
    Tucker snapped his notebook closed. “It’s not that.”
    “What then? Motive? I’ve been back three days. I haven’t had time to buy groceries yet, let alone go out and murder anyone.”
    “Opportunity.”
    “Every male in Tayler’s Creek and Winslow had opportunity .”
    Tucker’s gaze shifted to the weaponry that was laid out on the tarpaulin. “Not many of them are armed like you are.”
    “You won’t find a weapon there that isn’t registered. Those guns were part of my kit.”
    Tucker’s gaze sharpened. “You’ve left the SAS?”
    “I resigned two weeks ago.”
    Tucker pulled out his notebook again, flipped the cover, and scribbled a note. “That’s something we can check on.”
    “If you’re looking for a dishonourable discharge, don’t hold your breath. And when you test the guns and ammunition you’ll find the ballistics won’t fit. The perp used a twenty-two, and I don’t own one. But a twenty-two is a pretty standard kind of gun around here. Most farmers use them for rabbit and opossum control.”
    Tucker’s eyes sharpened. “How do you know a twenty-two was used?”
    Michael wondered idly if Tucker was aware that in Special Forces one of their offensive training units concentrated specifically on how to use cuffs to disable and kill. “The same way everyone else in this town knows it. I read it in the local paper.”
    Michael watched as the guns were bagged and loaded, then climbed into the rear of one of the police cruisers and allowed Parker to belt him in. “Guess you’ll be busy checking all the guns that belong to the locals. I’m betting there must be at least a hundred of them.”
    He heard Tucker swear beneath his breath, then the door thunked closed, cutting off the sound and enclosing him in the stifling interior. One of the cold-eyed Winslow cops climbed in beside him, and the other took the wheel.
    As the police cruiser maneuvered down his long shady drive in Tucker’s dusty wake, Michael clenched his jaw and settled in to wait out the process.
    Minutes later, he was hauled out of the backseat and a flash exploded in his eyes. The local press. A couple of shopkeepers walked out of their businesses to see what all the commotion was, along with a small stream of customers. A woman pushing a supermarket trolley paused at the boot of her car, long, shiny dark hair swinging forward as she rummaged for keys. Michael’s belly clenched, his heart slammed hard in his chest.
    Jane.
    Hunger ate at him, sharp and deep. He’d been back in Tayler’s Creek just three days, and in that time he’d spent a lot of time sleeping, and the rest of the time trying to contact Jane O’Reilly. Every time he’d knocked on her door, mysteriously, she hadn’t been at home, despite the fact that the whole place was wide open. Every time he’d rung, he’d gotten her answering machine, and she hadn’t bothered to return his calls.
    She was his next-door neighbour, but damned if he’d been able to catch her at it.
    A hand landed in the centre of his back. Grimly, he resisted the shove. His gaze locked on Jane as he willed her to look at him, cold fury welling at the steel manacling his wrists.
    If it hadn’t been for Jane’s dog hanging around his place, he’d have begun to wonder if she hadn’t packed up and left town. Or worse, buried herself with her husband.

Chapter 3
    THE AFTERNOON SUN poured down, radiating off asphalt with all the heat of a blast furnace as Jane slid her key into the boot lock. Automatically, she moved back a half step as the lock disengaged. Her disinterested gaze lifted with the motion of the boot and snagged on a pair of