Page 6 of Rogue Wave

“I believe he said you were right,” Dougie chimed in, a mischievous half smile on his face.

“Who are you, and what have you done to the real Hank?” Hazel asked, clearly enjoying the direction this conversation had turned.

She smiled up at me, and all I could think of was wanting to kiss that sassy smirk right off her face.

And this was why I needed to stay away from Hazel.

Dougie wasn’t much better, always egging her on.

I needed to focus my energy elsewhere.

“Sheriff,” one of my deputies called out.

I glanced at Kingston as he waved me over. Just the distraction I needed.

A few hours later, we were finally ready to pack up. We had our evidence and our interviews, the Navy and Coast Guard were combing nearby waters for any boat wreckage, and my deputies—along with state police—were searching the rest of the coastline for any other beaches that may have had items wash ashore.

I hated when drugs made it into our town, but I hated it even more that these had washed up literally into my own backyard.

It was just after four in the afternoon on a Sunday. A time when I should be kicking back and relaxing on my porch and enjoying the night.

Instead, I was stuck in my office. I’d had phone call after phone call—FBI, DEA, Coast Guard, other local law enforcement agencies, and the local news stations. It was the last that gave me the most grief.

We had decided to put some reward money up for information that could lead to the arrest of the people responsible for the drugs.

The local news pissed me off simply because they wouldn’t leave. I’d done their TV interview like they’d asked and answered all their questions. I’d explained that the woman who had found the drugs on the beach had given officials some information to go off of, but we needed the public’s help for more information.

I was deliberate in not mentioning Hazel’s name specifically, and I’d chosen my words carefully.

I knew I made it sound like Hazel may have given us more than she had because that would hopefully get to the right people and make them nervous that we had more than we did. In truth, we had very little. But when criminals were nervous, they made mistakes.

As for the general public? When it came down to it, many would sell their family members for the right price.

I’d learned that years ago.

My father had been a good man, fed up with dirty politicians, so he had decided to run for local election himself. Surprisingly, he’d won, even though he’d had no experience in politics. He’d been a lawyer, so he knew the law well, but that was about the only advantage he had in that position.

He’d risen through the ranks and eventually run for governor of Arizona—and won—during my sophomore year in college. Two years later, I’d met my future ex-wife, Kenzie, when she was living across the street from me at the end of my senior year.

Admittedly, I was young and dumb and put too much focus on thinking with the wrong head. Against the wishes of my parents and just about every friend I had, we went to the courthouse and got married four months after we met.

I was about to graduate with a degree in criminal justice and now had a new wife. I’d gone back and forth between going into law like my dad or going into the police academy.

In the end, I loved the law, but I had always felt drawn to law enforcement as my own way to make a difference, like my dad had.

What I hadn’t known was that Kenzie was hoping I’d go on to become a lawyer or politician because the money was better.

Six months later, I was divorced, fresh out of the police academy, and trying to start my life over with new life lessons.

The biggest of those life lessons? There were two kinds of dangerous women.

The greedy, cutthroat opportunists like my ex-wife, who emptied your bank account and left you questioning your life choices.

And then there was the kind who were beautiful and smart…and whom you couldn’t ignore no matter how much you tried.

Hazel was the second kind.

“I’m headed out for the night, unless you need anything else,” Deputy Kingston said from my doorway.