Free One Night More by Mandy Baxter Page A

chief deputy’s office, Galen paused for a moment to collect himself so he wouldn’t appear rushed or out of control. Witnesses generally liked to know the people protecting them had their shit together. Muted voices permeated the door: Monroe and the soft laughter of a woman. Well, he’d known the witness was female, but something about her laughter struck him as familiar. And why did that cause his gut to curl up into a tight knot? Had to be the jet lag. Considering the circumstances, the witness sounded cheery this morning, but Galen was willing to bet Monroe wasn’t quite as jovial. The man was obsessed with punctuality.
    Galen rapped his knuckles twice on the door before letting himself in. “’Morning, everyone. Sorry I’m late. My internal clock is a little . . .” The words choked and died somewhere between his sternum and tongue. When he first walked through the threshold, all he could see of her was her slim back and lush auburn hair. But then she turned around to face him, and all logical thought took a permanent vacation from Galen’s mind. He’d died. It was the only explanation. His plane had gone down somewhere over the Atlantic and for some reason he’d gone straight to hell.
    Because only hell could have devised such a sweet, beautiful torment.
    Monroe stepped from behind his desk. “Harper Allen, I’d like you to meet Deputy Marshal Galen Kelly. He’ll be the deputy in charge of your protective detail for the remainder of the FBI’s investigation.”
    The look of shock that settled on her face couldn’t have mirrored his own reaction to the situation any better. She stared for a moment too long, her jaw slack. After the initial shock passed, a smile lit her face, and the sun couldn’t have been brighter in its brilliance. She took a step forward, the recognition obvious in her expression. Son of a bitch. Snap decisions were part of his job, essential to his training. And yet, this decision was one of the hardest Galen had ever had to make. Too much rested on his reaction. He forced his expression into a passive representation of professionalism.
    “Nice to meet you, Miss Allen.”
    She stopped dead in her tracks and Galen’s stomach bottomed out. His lungs seized up. The hurt that marred her soft features was enough to make him want to kick himself in the ass. And at the same time, with the way they’d parted, how did she expect him to react? He didn’t have time to process what he was thinking or feeling right now. If Monroe had even an inkling that Galen knew Harper, he’d be jerked off this detail faster than he could say desk jockey. No way was he going to spend his first weeks back on the job shuffling papers.
    Harper’s gaze hardened and her lips thinned. The fire in those hazel eyes was enough to make Galen sweat. She bucked her chin up, squared her shoulders, and said, her tone detached and formal, “Nice to meet you, Deputy.”
    Monroe motioned to one of the empty chairs in front of his desk. “Well, now that you’re introduced, let’s get you up to speed, Galen. Sean Davis is going to want to talk to you, as will the Portland Police Bureau. But as far as I’m concerned, you don’t need to meet with them. A phone call ought to do fine.”
    Galen’s steps were mechanical, each one precisely placed as he moved to the empty chair and sat his ass down. He was pretty sure Monroe was saying something important, but he couldn’t seem to focus on the words. Perched not two feet away from him—within touching distance—was the woman he’d spent an entire year trying to forget. Life sure had a way of kicking a guy in the nuts.
    “. . . doesn’t have any leads, but it’s only been a couple of days . . .”
    God, his memory of her hadn’t done her beauty justice, the thumbnail of her image on his computer screen a pale representation of her exotic features.
    “. . . I expect you to cooperate with their investigation. . .”
    She’d recognized him right away and damn, if