“A lot, boy. A lot. Get yerself settled in, and then we’ll talk.” Dante’s smile widened. “You might check on your brother across the street. There was a shit-ton of swearing coming from over there.”

Pretending not to listen, Audrey blinked. The man had a brother. There were two of them in this town. What an awful thought.

“No surprise. He hates paperwork.” The chief’s lips didn’t move, but the sunlines beside his eyes crinkled.

Oh. Dear God, the man would be lethal if he ever really smiled. She realized she was staring.

He noticed. His eyes narrowed, and his expression hardened. Even though Dante’s explanation should have placated the cop, he obviously didn’t trust her at all.

A chill ran up her spine because she knew she must have looked guilty as hell.

As Gabe left the grocery store, he eyed the buildings on Main Street. A shiver crawled up his spine. Too many places for a sniper to hide.

After a second, he headed back across the street. Get over it, MacNair. The antsy feeling wasn’t new, after all. Every combat vet went through something similar.

And his discomfort at being in town? All too familiar during his childhood. Each spring break-up, Mako’d take them to the nearest town where Gabe and his brothers would bunch together like terrified sheep. People would be talking, cars whizzing by… Of course, being resilient kids, they were fine within half an hour and driving the sarge crazy.

He wasn’t a kid any longer, but he’d get over his nerves soon enough.

And it’d been pleasant to see Dante. The vet had taken the young woman under his wing. Room and board in exchange for working a few hours? Riiiight. The old guy was good people.

It’d been nice to see a pretty woman too. Although she obviously hadn’t felt the same about him.

Was she avoiding him because he was in law enforcement?

Or because he had a dick?

Her face was thin with hollows in her cheeks. Her fair skin looked slack as if she’d lost weight recently. Despite her liberal use of makeup, faded bruise shadows over her left jaw and cheek showed. Even more damning, she had faint shadows of bruises on her neck. A healing cut by her mouth made him think of what happened when an abuser wore a ring.

The damage to her face and neck indicated that whatever—or whoever—had occurred, it had been brutal. He growled under his breath. Be nice to meet the asshole who’d hit her.

She’d sure been terrified when accused of shoplifting.

He felt a touch of shame. He hadn’t believed for even a moment that she might be telling the truth.

In his experience, everyone lied.