Reel Trouble: Wild Women of Alaska (3 page)

Treat followed the Deputy Chief—or DC as he was beginning to think of her, since he’d yet to catch her name. Until he had something else to call her, DC seemed a good fit.

They were a
Deadliest Catch
town. It worked that they also had a Deadly Catch of a Deputy Chief. He cocked his head to appreciate the view better. He’d never thought of himself as an ass man, but she might have had him rethinking his fascination for breasts.

“Eyes off my ass, Devereux.”

He jerked his gaze off her comely backside and increased his stride to bypass her, reaching for the driver’s door to the police-issued SUV. At least she’d dropped the Mister. Could she be warming toward him?

“What are you doing?” She came to a complete stop and eyed him suspiciously.

“Opening your door.”

“I can open my own door.”

“My mother drilled in chivalrous ways until they became part of me. If you have a problem, you’ll have to take it up with her. But I don’t recommend it.” He held her door open and stepped aside to give her room to climb up into the seat. He refrained from offering her his hand to assist. She’d probably bite it off. When she got in, he wasn’t sure who was more surprised, him or her.

He shut the door and walked around the front of the vehicle as she turned over the engine. He jumped in and buckled up. She spared him a glance and then dropped the gear into reverse.

“Who is your mother?”

“Julie Kromenhook.”

Her eyes widened. “She’s your mother?”

“I take it you’ve met.”

“She was one of the first to introduce herself to me. She’s one salty old broad. Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Why not? She is.”

“What happened to your dad?”

He gave her points for not mentioning the name difference. “Mom’s kind of a mix of old-fashioned values and forward thinking.”

“The need to open my door.” She cocked a brow.

“You got it. She also didn’t want a husband, but she wanted a child.”

“Wow.” She was silent a minute. “So your dad was a sperm donor?” She suddenly blushed a becoming pink. “That was completely inappropriate.”

“So is my mother.” He settled into the leather seats appreciating the view out the passenger window. Much better than the cage in the backseat where she’d stashed him earlier.

“Not a sperm donor in the sense that you’re thinking,” he continued. “In her mind, if she was making a baby then she’d make one the way God intended, between a man and a woman, and not dry ice and test tubes. She picked out her specimen and propositioned him. They had their fling, which ended the minute Mom was knocked up. I think my dad would have worn her down and had her married before she knew what was up, based on stories I’ve heard of him, but he was lost at sea during a vicious williwaw twenty-five years ago. A lot of crabbers were lost during that squall.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Well, that’s part of the life we choose, living off the sea. Mom raised me alone, with a bunch of spankings delivered from the other women of the village.”

“Doesn’t look like the spankings should have stopped,” she drawled.

“Ahh, so you do have a sense of humor.”

She held her forefinger and thumb about an inch apart.

“I shared something personal, it’s now your turn, DC.”

“DC?”

“Short for Deputy Chief. I have no clue what your name is.”

“I told you, it’s Brogan.”

“Brogan’s your first name?”

“No. It’s Seana. Seana Brogan.”

“I like Seana. Very feminine.”

“
You
are free to call me Deputy Chief Brogan.”

“I’ll call you that in bed.”

The SUV swerved. “The hell you will.”

“We’ll see, won’t we?”

“We sure as hell will not.”

“Seana Brogan,” he murmured. “That name sounds familiar.”

“I was named after my dad. He’s a retired Alaska State Trooper.” She flicked him a glance out of the corner of her eye. “He’s probably arrested you at some point.”

“Ha-ha. No, that’s not it.” He scratched the stubble on his face. Time to shave again now that he was in town for a spell. He needed to be more presentable for company—the kind of company that was right here in this vehicle. Something about Seana Brogan captured his attention. “Captured! You and Garrett Hunt brought down that serial killer in—what was it, Ninilchik? Kalisof?”

“Nikiski.”

“I knew I heard your name before. You and Hunt collaborated on capturing that guy who raped and killed three teenage girls—”

“Four.” There was something in her voice that said there was more to the story. But she didn’t look like she was ready to share it.

“Didn’t you get some big award from the governor for apprehending—”

“Stewart Browning. And along with the award, I also received a reprimand from my chief.”

“Why? The work you and Hunt did was amazing. How you tracked him down from Fairbanks, and called in Hunt—he’s kind of a buddy/enemy of mine by the way—great work. Just think of all the teenage girls you saved by going rogue.”

“Not everyone sees it that way. And how do you know Garrett Hunt?”

Treat shifted in his seat. “He married a fishing buddy of mine,” he grumbled. “Damn fish cop.”

“Sonya? You know Sonya?”

“Oh, yeah. Now she was a hell of a woman.”

“She still is.”

“Off the market and a bit of a traitor after shacking up with a fish cop.”

“You fish in Bristol Bay in the summer?”

“I follow the fish all over Alaska’s coastline.” He noticed how they were getting back to talking about him. “Any other family besides your pop?”

“Uh, no.”

“Well, would you look at that. I was raised by women and you by men. We have a lot of similarities, you and me.”

“And yet they say opposites attract.” She braked and put the SUV in park. “Looks like we’re here.”

“Actually, no. This is where you arrested me. But this isn’t where my boat is.”

“You couldn’t have said anything while I was driving?”

“Seriously wasn’t paying attention to where we were going. Just enjoying the journey.” He smiled and this time she didn’t scowl. He considered that progress until a cab passed them and her scowl returned.

“I thought you said there were no cabs in Unalaska,” she said.

“I didn’t say there weren’t any cabs. Just that Unalaska wasn’t big enough to need them.”

She stared at him hard before asking, “Where do I drop you off?”

“Sure you don’t want to catch some dinner? I’m starved.” She narrowed her eyes, and he decided he’d pushed enough for today. “Over there, on the other side. The big black and white boat they’re offloading.”

“The one waving the pirate flag?” she asked as though she wasn’t surprised to find one.

“Yep, that’s my crabber. The
Sea Wolf
.”

“Why isn’t your boat featured on
Deadliest Catch
?”

“I enjoy fishing. A boat full of cameramen mucking up the works would take all the fun out of it. No thank you.”

“What of the money and fame?”

“What would I do with those things? If anything, they’d get in my way.”

She pulled up alongside his pride and joy. Well one of them. He currently had five boats. And yet he still hadn’t acquired a car. Maybe he should think about that.

“Thanks for the lift, DC. I enjoyed our talk and looking forward to the next one.”

“Goodbye, Devereux.”

Now that was where she was wrong. He didn’t see a goodbye in their future.

Seana climbed the stairs to her hotel room, her arms loaded with files she’d brought home and the take-out container she’d picked up from Amelia’s. The Grand Aleutian was a pretty fancy place to stay, much more than she’d expected Unalaska having for accommodation. But it wasn’t a great place to live. She needed to find long-term housing, and fast. Hollywood was in town as the
Deadliest Catch
boats returned with the footage of another opilio season. She’d almost had a fan moment standing in line behind the brother captains of the
Time Bandit
when she’d picked up dinner.

A door down from hers, a crash sounded followed by creative cursing and bouts of laughter. She hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since she’d arrived. Tomorrow, she’d get dead serious about finding her own place. Maybe the Real Housewives of Dutch Harbor could help her with that. Put a new spin on the outing. Though the thought of meeting with a bunch of women she didn’t know had sweat pooling under her armpits.

Criminals didn’t make her perspire, but meeting with a bunch of women did?
Come on. Buck up, Brogan.
They were just women. She could do this. She had to.

After she ate dinner, she set herself up on the bed to go over the files. Getting up to speed was taking longer than she liked. Any day now, Morehouse would make some snide comment about her not being able to handle the job.

A bang against the wall jolted her off the bed. She automatically reached for her gun on the night table, only to relax when laughter once again followed next door. A door slammed farther down the hall, and music started to beat overhead. She rubbed her tired eyes and anchored her hands in her hair. She couldn’t take another night of this party atmosphere. It was like she was in college living in the dorms. Grabbing her badge and gun, she struggled back into her jacket and left the noise of her hotel room. Maybe if she walked the streets of Unalaska, she’d return exhausted enough to sleep regardless of the racket.

The wind hit her first, and she zipped up her jacket, stuffing her hands in the pockets. That was another thing she’d have to get used to. Fairbanks didn’t get a lot of wind, but Dutch Harbor did. A nasty gale gusted off the Bering Sea and cut through the layers of her clothing. She should have grabbed her warmer coat, but the last few weeks she hadn’t needed it. Tonight had her rethinking the warmth of the southwestern part of Alaska. About a third of a mile up the road, she decided there wasn’t much to see and entered the Harborview Bar to get out of the wind for a bit.

As far as she could tell, there didn’t seem to be any clear city planning for Unalaska. Houses and commercial buildings had been put basically anywhere with no rhyme or reason. There wasn’t even a well-defined place that could be called downtown.

She needed a coffee shop, not a bar. She’d been informed when she’d asked for a local coffee shop, since coffee was a type of religion with her, that there was a ‘coffee hut’. The Hut was a small shack that you drove up to and placed your order through a window. How would she survive living in a place without a full-size sit-down-and-relax coffee shop?

The noise in the Harborview Bar and Grill rivaled the noise in the hotel room, but the heat was welcomed.

“Yo, it’s the new Deputy Chief!” hollered a boisterous voice that she couldn’t put a name to. “We’s doin’ no wrong, Officer.”

“Now that don’t mean nothing,” another voice joined the conversation. “Heard tell, she locked up Treat today because two women was fighting over him.”

“Only two? Why that there ain’t no reason for an arrest, unless the new Deputy Chief wants our Treat for herself.” Loud, drunken laughs erupted around her.

She shouldn’t have come in here, but she couldn’t turn around and walk out now either.

Treat appeared through the crush, his eyes catching hers. “Cut the lady some slack. You know I’m not opposed to a pretty woman putting cuffs on me.” Louder laughter erupted in the bar. A few men slapped him on the back as he made his way through the parting crowd toward her. “Since dinner didn’t interest you, how about a drink? It would speak to the crowd of your impartiality in arresting me.”

Oh, so the man knew his way around a dictionary. That shouldn’t spark her interest. He took her hand. His palm was rough and calloused. Heat radiated up her arm from his touch and settled low in her belly.

No, no, no. Don’t be attracted to him.

Working men’s hands were her kryptonite. Her knees had a habit of going weak and falling open for a good looking man who had hands that told a story. Her knees needed to stay clamped shut next to Treat Devereux. The wind-worn, dark-blue Carhartt jacket he wore did a lot for his broad shoulders too. She bet he could take her five-foot ten inch frame and cuddle it fine against the warmth of his chest as those hands caressed up and down her bare back.

Oh good hell, she couldn’t be thinking of things like that.

They reached the bar, where a burly, ginger-bearded fisherman jumped up and offered her his stool.

“Deputy Chief, may I introduce you to Chaz Rasmussen,” Treat said. “Chaz is a longtime crewman of mine.”

“Ma’am.” Chaz bowed his head. “It’s nice to meet ya. I’d shake your hand, but I’ve been slinging crabs all day and my fingers have been pinched until they’re black and blue. Would’ve had some help if this dingbat hadn’t gotten arrested. No blame in your corner, ma’am. I place it all on him.”

“Which is why I’m buying the drinks,” Treat pointed out.

“Not fast enough, Captain.” Chaz tossed back his drink and sat the empty shot glass down on the scarred wooden bar top.

Treat signaled for the barkeep. “What are you drinking, Deputy Chief?”

“I’ll buy my own drink, thank you.”

“Afraid everyone will think you’re sweet on me?”

“I learned a long time ago not to accept gifts from strangers, and I don’t know you well enough for you to buy me a drink.”

“How do you expect to get to know me? Dinner was a no. Drinks seem to be falling into the no column too. So what’s a man to do?”

There was a long pause. “Most of the men I know, I work with.”

“Even I wouldn’t go that far. Seriously? You don’t date outside of the job? I thought there was a rule about fraternization within the police force.”

She tightened her lips not wanting to answer, but with both Chaz and Treat looking at her with what seemed genuine curiosity she blurted out, “I don’t date. Okay?”

Treat and Chaz shared a look, and then Chaz asked, “Like, ever? What about sex?”

Treat cut in, “We need to go about changing that.”

“Sure as hell do,” Chaz said. “Do you know how scarce women are in the state of Alaska?”

Seven to one. “Yes, I’m aware of the statistics.”

“Try ten to one in Unalaska. You
must
date.” Chaz’s eyes widened. “You don’t bat for the other team, do you? Now that would be heartbreaking.”

She cracked a laugh, and then laughed harder when Treat caught on to what Chaz had alluded to. His face went slack with shock. Neither man laughed with her, which made her punchy humor harder to control. Good hell, she needed to get some sleep.

“DC, you gotta stop that and give us an answer,” Treat said, his Adam’s apple busy bobbling up and down as he swallowed.

“No, I don’t.” She calmed down, made her way to the bar and ordered a whiskey, neat. “My sexual orientation is none of your business.”

“Oh good Christ almighty.” Chaz slowly lowered his considerable bulk onto the barstool. “Captain, I’m going to need a lot more to drink.”

Treat’s eyes narrowed as he studied Seana. He took a step toward her, but she held her ground. She’d had a father who’d schooled her in the poker face before she’d started kindergarten. No way Treat could look at her and tell what she was thinking.

“I’m going to enjoy finding out,” he said in a voice low enough that the patrons around them couldn’t hear, but loud enough that she caught the words and the intent behind them. They stirred something dark and enticing deep inside her. She took a sip of her drink, wishing it was the alcohol that had caused fire to race in her blood.

“Maybe, maybe not.” She finished the rest of her drink in one gulp, enjoying the burn as it slid down her throat. Setting her glass on the bar top, she threw enough money to cover the bill along with a decent tip. Nodding her head toward the two men who watched her with their mouths hanging open, she said, “Goodnight, gentlemen.”

Treat recovered first. “’Nite, DC. I’ll be seeing you.”

“Only if you break the law, and then you’ll wish you hadn’t.” She walked away with no hurry in her step, and a smile flirting along her lips.

How long would it take to make the rounds that she might, or might not, be a lesbian?