You're the One (26 page)

“Smart arse. I
meant, you’re really going to keep him?”

“Why not?” Ian
shrugged. “He’ll be good company in the shop and at home. Gets kind
of lonely since Martha passed away.”

His wife had
died over a year ago. Everyone knew Ian had loved her, missed her,
and had buried himself in work. The dog would be good for him. He’d
be good for the dog. At least one good thing had come out of the
whole ugly situation.

Dee glanced at
her wrist watch. “Well, now the fun is over, time to go back to
work.”

“I’m going to
take this boy to the vet.” Ian clicked his fingers at the dog and
strode back to his shop.

Del, Dee and
Farris watched as the dog hesitatingly got to his feet and started
following Ian, so uncertain it was heart wrenching.

“Come on,
boy,” Ian called.

The dog took a
last look in the direction his previous master had disappeared then
trotted after Ian, tail down, looking like he expected a blow any
second.

Farris slung
his arms around Dee and Del’s shoulders. “Thanks for coming to my
rescue, girls, but I’d have handled it, you know.”

“We know,” Del
said.

“I haven’t had
a fight for awhile,” Dee drawled. “Figured I’d see if I still had
it in me.”

“Kind of like
a test run?”

“Exactly.”

“You tell that
to Ryder,” Farris said. “I doubt it’s going to make a
difference.”

Del
grinned.

“And you.”
Farris shook his head at her. “I think you better go to church and
make confession before Moz comes looking for you.”

“I’m not
Catholic.”

“Do it anyway,
it’ll be your final chance.”

She looked at
him. “Are you enjoying this?”

“No. After the
blokes have dealt with you two, they’ll come looking for me. I’m
just dead.”

Dee snorted.
“What for?”

“Letting you
two wade into my battle.”

Del punched
him lightly on the arm. “We weren’t leaving our friend hanging in
the wind.”

“That’s
right,” Dee agreed. “That poor dog.”

“You really
mean me, right?” Farris asked.

“Sure, you
keep thinking that.”

With a laugh,
he walked through the back door of the dress shop.

Dee and Del
looked at each other.

“Well, shit,”
Dee said. “I think I need a Diet Coke. Maybe some chocolate.”

“Trying to
sweeten yourself before Ryder comes to take a bite out of you?”

“He starts
anything, I will kick his arse.”

“Won’t make
any difference to Ryder. Your arse is grass, lady.”

“I’ll just
stop his subscription to his beloved Green Lantern comics.”

Del squinted.
“Okay. You might be able to wiggle out of it.” As if that would
work. Not.

Dee cast her a
jaundiced eye. “Unfortunately for you, you are so much dead
meat.”

“Dad will be
all disapproving, but I’ll sweet-talk him.”

“I don’t mean
Uncle Dan, and you know it.”

“Who do you
mean then?” As if Del didn’t know.

“Moz.”

“Moz isn’t my
boss,” she retorted a trifle sharply.

“He’s your
boyfriend, he’s the local inspector, and he has an
over-protectiveness that makes him over-bearing at times, like most
of the men in our lives.” Dee grimaced. “Do you think they were
actually all brothers and simply separated at birth or
something?”

“I dare you to
ask Mrs Montague that.”

“Not in this
lifetime. She’d have my guts for garters.”

They started
back towards their own shops.

Del stopped
and looked at Dee. “Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for
coming out.”

“Well, hell,
you’re my cousin.”

And that said
it all.

With an
understanding grin, they went their separate ways.

~*~

Leaning back
in the chair, booted feet propped on the desk, hot tea steaming
from the mug in his hand, Moz stared at the computer. There was
always bloody paperwork. Whoever reckoned that computers made for
less paperwork should have had their arses kicked.

The door to
the office opened, Kirk striding inside with Maggie on his heels.
“We need to talk.”

“About
what?”

“You holding
your temper.”

Moz’s eyebrows
arched in silent query.

Kirk stood in
front of the desk, Maggie leaned against the door with arms
folded.

“What’s got
you so worried?” Moz took a sip of hot tea.

“The fact that
Harding, Dawson and Cutter were in town.”

Moz tensed.
“What’d they do?” Putting the mug on the desk, he swung his booted
feet to the floor.

“Got in a
disagreement with some of the townsfolk.”

“Who?”

“This is where
you need to hold your temper.”

“Shit.” He
knew in an instant. “Del?”

“Words only,
Moz. Words. No one hit, no one hurt.”

A muscle
jumped in his jaw. “They bailed her up?” He surged to his feet.

“Not quite.”
Kirk nodded at the chair. “You might want to take a seat.”

“You might
want to start talking. Fast.”

Kirk gauged
his stance before he said, “Brand was mistreating a dog, Farris
intervened, Pierce and Cutter appeared. Looked like a free-for-all
was going to start.”

“Three against
one?” Moz scowled. “That’d be just like those bastards. But what’s
Del got to do with it?”

“She didn’t
like the odds and intervened in turn.”

“Shit.
Shit!
” Moz started around the desk. “If they hurt her, I’ll
kill them!”

“Steady up.”
Kirk side-stepped, barring his way. “No one got hurt. I just told
you that.”

Hands fisted,
Moz glared down at him. “So what the hell happened? Spit it out,
Morrison, before I drag it out of you.”

“Maybe I
should take it from here,” Maggie suggested. “Seeing as I was one
of the cops who came at the phone call.”

“Phone call?”
This sounded worse by the second.

“We received a
partial phone call from Dee, got around there fast to find that a
group of them had been at a stand-off. That’d be Del, Dee, Ian and
Farris against Cutter, Harding and Dawson.”

His tension
eased a fraction. Del hadn’t been alone.

“As Sarge
said, Brand apparently mistreated the dog, Farris intervened, the
others weren’t going to stand by and see him take on those three
dickheads. It was a stand-off, Moz. A
stand-off
.” She looked
reassuringly up at him. “No one got hurt, no one got touched.”

“Why am I just
now hearing about this?” Why hadn’t Del told him? Oh right, she
knew he’d have steam rolling from his ears. Like it was now.

“Oh, I don’t
know. Because the altercation had nothing to do with you?”

“Mags,” Kirk
warned quietly.

Maggie rolled
her eyes. “Sorry. Look, you’re her boyfriend, but this was cop
business-”

“Del is
my
business.”

“Really?”
Maggie looked amused now. “Does she know that?”

Kirk cut her a
look.

She held her
hands palms up. “Over to you, Sarge.”

Kirk looked
back at Moz. “Cutter, Dawson and Harding haven’t shown up anywhere.
We’re on the lookout for them to have a word about the dog and the
dispute.”

“They’ll lie
their arses off. And I want to talk to them about that dog.”

“You know as
well as I do that if we don’t go by the book anything brought
against them in the future can be jeopardised. We go by the book if
we want a water-tight case.” Kirk looked at him. “And seeing as
you’re emotionally involved, that means us talking to them before
you do. You’re liable to hit first and ask questions later. You
need to calm down.”

He knew it was
true, it just didn’t make him feel better. But meanwhile… Crossing
to the filing cabinet, Moz grabbed the keys from the little hook
near it. He was going to check that Del was all right before
ripping her for once again putting herself in harms way. God, the
woman was going to make him grey.

“Going
somewhere?” Kirk asked calmly.

“Del’s,” Moz
answered shortly.

“Oh good,
you’re coming with us.”

Moz cast him a
narrow-eyed look. If this drongo thought he needed to protect Del
from him, then -

“We’re heading
to her place to ask some more questions.” Kirk motioned for Maggie
to step aside.

The two cops
followed Moz from the office.

Moz shut the
door, the lock clicking securely. “About what? The dog? I can do
that while I’m there.”
After I check she’s okay and after I’m
through tearing a strip off her.

“The dog is
interesting. It’s been in a fight at some stage, has an infected
wound. Ian adopted it and took it to the vet. Grant took photos of
the wound so we’ve got it on file. I’ll email them to you.”

Damn it to
hell and back, this just kept getting worse. “She interfered
between Cutter and a dog he used for
fighting
?”

“Apparently
the dog belonged to Dawson. Might not be a bad idea to do a little
drive around his place later.”

“You haven’t
done that already?” Scowling, Moz opened the door of the work ute
and slid behind the steering wheel.

Kirk kept the
door open by the simple process of standing in the opening, resting
his arm on the roof of the cab and bending down to look in at Moz.
His eyes remained steady. “Oh yeah, we done it already. Did it last
night as well while you were out of town on that follow-up trip to
Marcor Downs. But we’re going to do another drive by later.”

“Good to
know.” Moz started the ute. “I’ll do one as well. After.”

“Moz.”

“Yeah?”

“You lose it
with her before we get more answers and we could lose whatever lead
we have.”

Moz glared at
him. “Are you saying that her safety is worth nothing?”

“I’m saying
that if you do your block before we talk to her, then she’s likely
to clam up about whatever she else she may have heard or seen just
to try and keep you calm.”

“I’m calm,” he
snapped.

“Really?
‘Cause mate, you look like you’ve been chewing nails for
lunch.”

Taking a deep
breath, Moz gripped the steering wheel. “Can you blame me? Jesus,
Kirk, Del put herself right in the middle of what could have been a
brawl. How would you feel if that was Molly?”

Kirk didn’t
hesitate. “Exactly as you feel now. I’ve already read Del the riot
act.”

“That sure as
shit isn’t going to stop me doing it. In fact,” he jabbed a finger
at his friend, “as soon as you’re finished asking questions, you
can take a hike and leave me to sort her out.”

An alarmed
expression crossed Maggie’s face. “Sarge-”

“Its okay,
Mags.” Kirk regarded Moz steadily.

Moz looked him
right in the eyes. “My woman, Kirk. I’ll deal with her.” Reaching
past him, he grabbed the door handle. “I’ll meet you there.”

Kirk stepped
back, allowing the door to thump closed, but before Moz could back
out onto the road, he leaned down again, that calm, steady gaze
trained on Moz. “Do I need to be worried?”

Bloody
hell, really?
Moz’s jaw clenched. “You need to ask?”

With a
satisfied nod, Kirk straightened. “See you there.”

Putting the
big ute into gear, Moz backed out of the parking bay and headed off
towards Del’s house, the cop car pulling in behind him.

The drive gave
him time to regain control, drag his anger down, shove it in a
mental box so he could breathe easily, focus on the job. Kirk was
right, if he went in there all guns blazing Del would get defensive
and tell them both where to shove it. No way would she talk with
him there, and he sure as hell needed to be there.

Damn it, he
shouldn’t have had to have his friend warn him. He was normally
clear-headed, didn’t rise to the bait of people, could remain cool
under the worst of verbal abuse screamed at him by those he’d faced
down over mistreated animal reports. He’d stood shoulder to
shoulder with the cops when needing their back-up to enter
premises. Hell, he’d faced down meth addicts and once even a
murderer, though they hadn’t known that at the time. All to save
animals, reptiles, birds, anything that crawled or walked or swam.
No matter how big or small, how cute or ugly, how sweet-tempered or
vicious, if it was in trouble he was there. He kept his temper,
didn’t get goaded into fights or arguments, let the insults and
verbal abuse pour right off him because it was so important not to
jeopardise a case, to make sure when it went to court that nothing
could be pointed at him and thereby weaken the case. He didn’t care
about those people, didn’t give a rat’s arse about their opinion as
long as he got what he wanted and needed - justice for the
creatures he was sworn to protect.

But one
thought of Del facing down those bastards, one thought of her
placing herself in danger, and he was hard-put not to tell Kirk to
shove it, to stay away, to find those bastards and make them wish
they’d never laid eyes on her, to let him deal with his woman
first.

But he’d also
learned a long time ago to maintain control on his temper. A man
his size with his strength could do someone serious harm. Moz had
never been a violent man.

Then along
came Del and look there, she could push his buttons. Not to mention
that anyone who threatened her was in danger of having their heads
ripped right off their shoulders.

By the time he
turned onto the curving driveway leading to her house he was
breathing evenly, hands still tight on the steering wheel but not
gripping, able to maintain a cool façade.

Standing on
the veranda, Del looked at the ute with a smile, but then she
caught sight of the cop car right behind him and her smile
faltered. She took another look at Moz when he braked and turned
off the engine and that smile disappeared altogether.