Page 12 of Welker

But his place wasn’t going to be insignificant much longer.

Lucky for Welker, his sister Callie had gone on to be an architect, so her genius was the driving force in determining the layout and eventual interior designs of the three buildings. Which would boost their value, exponentially. Not that Welk was selling. Nope. He was building a family compound for life.

Welk was lucky to have Callie. He was talented with his hands, but not so much with his abstract brain. He’d happily left all blueprint nuances to his sister.

His thoughts were interrupted when Moira walked back toward him and Mase, a hard look on her face. “Sheriff Gladstone isn’t happy that I called SWAT. He’s already sent out Undersheriff Pickenstahl and one of the newer deputies to secure the place as a crime scene. He doesn’t want us touching anything or cleaning anything up until they’ve done their preliminaries. I’ve been told not to remove a single item from the premises, not even clothing.”

Which sucked, because she couldn’t live in the dirty, roof-crawling sweats she still had on.

Moira continued. “Luckily, I have an extra uniform and my SWAT gear in my truck, so I’ll be okay to work, except…” She seemed reluctant to say the rest, eventually drawing in a breath to spit it out. “…I’m not allowed to return to duty with the sheriff’s department until the Sheriff clears me, since I’m the one who’s been targeted.”

That could mean a long wait, Welker knew. The sheriff’s department was understaffed at the moment, and even though this home-invasion should take priority because it was one of their own who’d been attacked, Welk got the feeling that there was no love lost between Moira and her superiors.

“Don’t worry about Abe and Gerald,” Mason assured her, calling the sheriff and undersheriff by their first names, which means they were either friends, or Mase had something over them with which to bargain. “I’ll talk to them both, and get the okay to start cleaning things up here, on our schedule.”

“And in the meantime,” Sin walked up behind Moira and laid a hand on her shoulder. “I’ve got some clothes you can borrow until that happens.”

Moira snorted. “Nothing you own will fit me,” she stated, straight-faced, and Welker figured she might have a point. Sin was built, tall and willowy. Moira was…

What was she, exactly?

Welker realized he had no idea what kind of build Moira had. Even now, seeing her off-duty and out of uniform, the sweats she had on could be hiding a svelte female figure, or covering up a muscled titan. When engaging in drills or on the mats at the gym, she always wore those ubiquitous sweats, so he couldn’t use that as a reference.

In uniform, her khaki-colored-fit was always square-cut, boxy, and never gave any hint of her body away. Frustratingly, it was the same with Moira’s hair. Welker had never seen it—even tonight when she’d been fresh from bed—any way other than pulled back into a tight braid that… Yup…fascinated him. The thick rope of honeyed brown hung down to mid-back, with never a strand out of place; nothing to tuck behind an ear; no whisps escaping… He wondered what it would look like, let loose to circle her face, maybe splayed out on a pillow?

Welker caught himself. What the fuck? Had he just pictured Moira’s head on his pillow? That was fucked up. Not that he was swimming in known territory, here. His attraction to Moira, he’d thought, wasn’t at all based on her looks. He’d always gleaned plenty of attention from beauties of the opposite sex, and they didn’t do it for him anymore. He was tired of superficial.

When lamenting all that with his sister and Sabira, even letting them know about his odd interest in Moira, the pair had teased that he was fixated on the sheriff because she was the one woman Welker couldn’t charm.

That might be part of the draw, but Welk knew the truth. He liked how calm and competent Moira was in any situation; under duress, being teased, faced with the unknown. She was never rattled. He’d watched her for months, waiting to see if she could be shaken, but her unruffled record still held. Even now, when she’d been the target of assholes at the one place she should be safe, there hadn’t been a single crack in her demeanor. She did seem a little concerned over not being able to pack for her stay with him. He could quiet her concerns on that front.

“There are some clothes at my place that will probably fit you,” Welker offered. Callie and Sabira kept clothes in his guestroom for when they came to visit and lend a hand with renovations. His sister was about the same height as Moira.

One blink was all Welk got in return for his proposal, but it hadn’t been a no, so it must have been her agreeing. She’d also need a toothbrush and whatever else she had to leave behind. “If you?—”

Lights and sirens sounded from down the road, cutting off the offer he’d been about to make; that they stop at an all-night store for whatever else she needed. Welker figured the new arrivals had to be the sheriff’s personnel rolling in. He’d never met any of Moira’s colleagues, but he was intrigued. How did she fit in?

The two vehicles pulling up were white, with the sheriff’s department logo blazoned across the doors in black and gold. Brand new, if Welker were any judge.

Sweet.

The cars came to a stop, and…

“What the fuck, Bliss?” the first man to put a foot on the ground spat, before he’d even fully left his seat. “Leave it to you to piss somebody off.”

Welker’s hackles were instantly up. What kind of asshole threw out a statement like that, clearly meaning it, without seeing to the condition of his Chief Deputy, first?

Welker was about to say something, but Mason must have sensed it, and stepped forward instead. “Gerald.”

He held out a hand to the man Welk could now identify as the Undersheriff. “Nice of you to show up.”

Not friends, then.

Welker had known Mason for years, and the greeting he’d just bestowed was the kind his boss saved for pompous, ass-kissers.

Pickenstahl grumbled. “As if I had a choice. The sheriff told me Bliss had gotten herself into some kind of trouble, so I had to drag my ass out of bed to get here and have a look.”

“Well, as you can see,” Mason narrowed his eyes at the man, “the perps did a number on the place. But don’t worry. We haven’t touched anything. And we’ve taped off the entire scene.”

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