Her Lawman

By Hildie McQueen

Attraction hits Mark and Eliza at the worst possible time.

Deputy Mark Hunter's past returns full force when the first murder in twenty years happens on his watch in the usually quiet small town of Lovely, Montana.  This is definitely not the time to fall in love. Especially with the beautiful witness Eliza Brock, who could be involved.

The last twenty-four hours have been hell, between a fight with her ex that left her with a bruised face and now finding a dead man, Eliza Brock can barely keep it together.  In the middle of all the mess Eliza still manages to feel an undeniable attraction to the handsome deputy in charge of the investigation. Damn if she can't resist when he comes knocking on her door.

When someone is murdered, it's definitely not a normal week in the usually quiet small town of Lovely, Montana. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hildie McQueen
• Release date: May 28, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386194019

Hildie McQueen

Amazon bestselling author Hildie McQueen loves action, love and unusual settings. Author of western historical, Highland historical, paranormal and contemporary romance, she writes something every reader can enjoy. Most days she can be found in her pajamas hiding from deliverymen while drinking tea from her David Gandy coffee mug. In the afternoons she browses the Internet for semi-nude men to post on Facebook. Hildie's favorite past-times are romance conventions, traveling, shopping and reading. She resides in beautiful small town Georgia with her super-hero husband Kurt and two unruly boy Chihuahuas and a spoiled rotten girl Chi named Lola. Visit her website at www.hildiemcqueen.com Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/HildieMcQueen Twitter: https://twitter.com/HildieMcQueen Google+: https://plus.google.com/u/0/+HildieMcQueen

Book preview

Chapter 1

It was going to be a scorcher. At nine in the morning, the temperatures were already in the high eighties. About normal for the end of August. Deputy Mark Hunter reluctantly left the air-conditioned interior of his police cruiser to do a routine check on the abandoned, old warehouse at the end of Main Street, downtown Lovely, Tennessee.

After adjusting his tan Stetson, he kicked a rock across the cracked and potholed blacktop of the parking area and walked the perimeter of the building. Every once in a while he pulled his flashlight and peered through one of the dingy windows into the dark interior.

Upon reaching the corner of the building, Mark looked through a broken pane and noticed grass and weeds burst through some of the many crevices in the concrete floor, the tenacious plants stretched toward whatever bits of sun streamed in.

Minutes later he returned to his car, nothing of interest noted, except for the fact that he was sweating like a pig. The warehouse patrol would probably be the highlight of his day. An empty structure, the only intruders, weeds.

Some days he missed the chaos of being a cop in a bigger city. The bullpen, the smell of stale coffee, vagrants and prostitutes hurling insults and then there was the addition of having a partner to talk to. Everything that was once part of daily life in Nashville was in the past.

In Lovely, a total of three made up the entire police force for the tiny town. Besides him, a young deputy, Carson Scott and sheriff Clark, shared the office spaces. Every morning, coffee was delivered fresh from the diner across the street and the sheriff's wife came in once a week to clean the office spaces and replace the flowers on a table in the entry way. Flowers for goodness sakes. Who the hell expected to see flowers at a police station?

Since it was his choice to move to the small town after losing his partner in a shootout with gang members, he couldn't really bitch. Now two years later, he wondered if he should have waited before making the rash decision. After all, he had closure. Killed the bastard who'd shot his partner.

Besides even if he wanted to complain to anyone, the sheriff and his wife were gone on a five-day cruise and Scott was off duty during the day since he covered the evening shift.

For the next few days, during the daytime, he was the lone lawman in town, population eighteen hundred.

He motored around the warehouse and down Main Street to park in front of the police office. His plan for the day was to visit a few of the local establishments and then get breakfast. Yep, he had it hard.

The strong smell of flowers filled the air when he stepped into his office. At least the furniture remained standard issue by most public safety standards. Metal desks, chairs, and a metal bench bolted to the floor along the wall. Mrs. Clark had thoughtfully placed metal waste cans nearby in case an arrestee decided to puke. Mark shook his head. Most drunk and disorderly people arrested purposefully puked on the floor out of spite.

He refilled his coffee mug and checked email. The only thing of interest, a sale on bulletproof vests.

Minutes later Mark walked into Miller Hardware. Mrs. Tallulah Miller, a spunky sixty-something lady with salt and pepper hair and a quick wit waved in greeting. Hey there, Deputy Hunter. How are ya this mornin’?

Her store was the one place other than the Lovely diner, where locals always stopped by for a chat. So much so that Mrs. Miller set up a sitting area of sorts next to her checkout counter. Today the chairs were empty. It was still too early in the day for visitors.

Mark returned the greeting and neared the counter. Anything of interest today?

Other than that stray dog raiding my trash again, no. Cup of tea? She rushed to the room behind her counter not waiting for a reply. I just made a pot, she called over her shoulder.

Not exactly his favorite drink. At the moment, he would have preferred cold sweet tea.

As if reading his mind, she reappeared a few seconds later with a tall glass, the ice clinking side to side. I figured you'd rather have something cold after being out there. It's supposed to be a record-breaker.

He took a long drink. Thank you. What are you planning to do with the empty warehouse? The floor is starting to crack pretty badly. Besides, teenagers are always caught in there messing around.

She took a deep breath and lifted a cup of tea to her lips. Her eyes darted to the doorway in thought. I am considering just tearing it down. The last person who showed interest in it was Leroy Malone, she said, referring to the owner of the car repair shop. He was planning to move his business into it, but changed his mind after Janice left him. Mrs. Miller chuckled. Seems she left with the dog, jewelry, clothes, and all their savings.

The building was structurally sound and if he had his way, he'd consider buying it and turning it into a teen hang out or a bar with pool tables and dartboards. A business of the sort would be good for Lovely. Most people had to drive to the nearby town of Newton for nighttime entertainment.

Yet Mark wasn't sure he was ready to take the chance like that with his money and energy. Hopefully someone else will show interest before it deteriorates to the point where you won't have a choice. It would make a nice bar.

It would. Mrs. Miller eyed him in thought. And a bar would also give you boys more to do on the weekends. She chuckled.

The bell over the door jingled and Adam Ford walked in. Adam had not too long ago returned from Afghanistan and moved to Lovely at about the same time Mark had. The loner lived outside town in an old Victorian house he was in the process of restoring. Although not a friendly sort, more silent type, Mark genuinely liked the guy.

After Mrs. Miller greeted Adam, the men shook hands in greeting. Mark noted dark shadows under the eyes, haunted expression and a few days of beard growth on Adam's jawline. Typical of a man who'd not been well for a few days. It was well known, Adam suffered from severe PTSD, and so Mark didn't question him. Instead he motioned to the list in the guy's hand. What you working on now?

Drywall is finally all up. Starting the paint work this week. Adam looked past him to where the paint shelves were. My mother picked out some colors. She threatened to disown me if I paint the walls white.

Women have a thing against white walls, I guess. Mark recalled the different colors he'd painted his townhouse in Knoxville right after his ex-girlfriend moved in. After they'd broken up, he was left with walls painted in colors named after fruits and vegetables. Wanna grab a bite after you're done?

Adam hesitated and finally nodded. Sure.

I'll be outside. Mark waved at Mrs. Miller and left. He'd make sure Adam had a good meal before leaving town. If he guessed right, the guy hadn't eaten in a couple of days.

---

An hour later, Mark and Adam left the diner with leftovers in carry out boxes and fresh cups of sweet tea. Adam headed across the street to Miller Hardware. Mark walked alongside having forgotten his coffee mug at Mrs. Miller's store.

When he looked to Adam, about to say goodbye, someone ran into him so hard, Mark stumbled backward and dropped his food.

A young woman, he recognized as Eliza Brock, the short order cook at the Lovely diner, let out a loud yelp and began to cry.

He wasn't sure what to do. The food was beyond help, most of it