groaned, casting a glance over his shoulder toward their table.
Okay, so the feelings were mutual between the two men.
“And I was thinking maybe you should try easing up a little on the surveillance around the community center.”
He laughed. “Has everyone in town voted you the person to ‘deal’ with me...talk me down a bit?”
She was starting to think so herself. “I’m just saying those kids are not that bad. Noah’s on them like white on rice—you can ease up a little. Maybe even offer to help out at the center or something.” Putting in a few hours with at-risk kids would be a better way to get involved in the community, instead of making enemies out of everyone.
“I don’t think so. And trust me, this cute, quaint little town may not be as safe as everyone wants to believe. False sense of security is common in places like this, where you all feel as though you know one another. But just because nothing bad has ever happened here, doesn’t mean nothing ever will.” He reached for his coat and tossed several bills onto the bar.
Retrieving his ID, she handed it to him.
“Nighty-night, Talks-a-lot,” he said with a wink as he headed toward the door.
* * *
“JAKE—PERFECT TIMING,” Sheriff Bishop said as he entered the station the next morning.
Crap. That sentence was never followed by something good. “What’s up?” he asked, removing his jacket and draping it over the back of his chair before wiping the snow from his dark hair.
“We just got a call from Darlene Dawson. She’s in charge of town events...and she said they still need several more floats for the Christmas parade.”
“Okay...”
“So we’ve decided to enter one this year,” he said.
Why did he get the feeling that he would somehow get roped into helping? He sighed. “I still can’t believe a town this small even has a parade,” he mumbled, pouring a cup of weak coffee.
“It’s for the kids,” Sheriff Bishop said. “My daughter and her sons live in Nashville now, but they’ll be home soon for the holidays, and I know my grandsons would just love to ride on the float.”
Fantastic. Jacob still didn’t know what any of it had to do with him. If he had his way, he would sleep away the holiday. He’d all but given up on the idea that he could be back in the city by Christmas, so he’d accepted the fact that it would be another lonely one for him.
“Anyway, I just thought you might want to take on the project.”
What on earth would give the older man that idea? His holly, jolly demeanor? He shook his head. “No, thanks.”
“Jake, I know you’re hoping to get back...home...someday,” he said, lowering his voice. “But you’re here now—why not try to make the best of the situation, get involved with the community, get to know people better? You might actually like it here.”
Doubtful. “Sorry, Sheriff Bishop—Christmas just isn’t my favorite time of year, and I’d rather leave float-building and other holiday events to the people who enjoy them.” They couldn’t force him to participate, after all.
Sheriff Bishop frowned but then nodded. “Okay, I understand.”
It didn’t sound as if he did, but Jacob wasn’t about to explain that he’d spent the past two Christmases alone in a dingy hotel room, and that the one before that he’d put his own father in jail. Prior to the Lorenzo case, he’d been investigating corporate fraud cases, and his father’s company had been found guilty on several counts. Nope, this time of year wasn’t exactly a good one for him.
“Well, I’ll need you to stick around for a while this afternoon,” Sheriff Bishop was saying. “I need to drive to Newark to pick up the flatbed trailer for the float.”
Jacob’s ears perked. “Newark?”
Sheriff Bishop nodded, printing off the information for the rental place.
He cleared his throat. “You know, I could go pick it up for you.” The perfect opportunity to sneak off to Newark to meet Emilio at the dock without anyone questioning him.
He frowned. “But you just said you weren’t interested.”
Jacob sighed. Like it or not, he’d just agreed to help with the float. He shrugged. “It’s for the kids, right?”
Sheriff Bishop grinned, handing him the printout and his truck keys. “Tell Ted at Xtra Lease to send the invoice to the station.”
“He’ll be okay with that? He’ll know who I am?” he asked, reaching for his jacket. He wasn’t thrilled about taking care of the rental, but he was eager to check in with Emilio. Make sure the man hadn’t changed his mind about helping him.
“I told him to expect you,” Sheriff Bishop said with a grin.
Of course he had.
* * *
WITH THE TRAILER attached to Sheriff Bishop’s Ford F-350, Jacob drove to the Port Newark Container Terminal. Emilio worked as a container inspector, and the inside man had allowed more than ten containers of illegal drugs and contraband to pass through clearance in the two years that Jacob had been undercover. When the man had announced that he wanted to get out of the cartel business, his life had been in jeopardy, but Jacob had offered him another solution. Working for the good team, Emilio had agreed to let him know when the next shipment was arriving in the port. It had been the backup plan in case the original bust had gone wrong—which it had.
Of course, no one knew about plan B except the two men.
Turning onto the yard, Jacob parked the truck near the empty container stacks in the storage facility and jumped down. He raised the collar of his coat to shield his face against the blowing snow and made his way toward Emilio’s office at the far end of the yard.
An eerie sense of déjà vu made him shiver as he recalled the last time he’d visited the man here. Gun loaded, his mind racing and his heart thundering, he’d been there to “take care” of the older man. With one of Lorenzo’s goons at his side, he’d had no idea how he was going to get out of shooting the man without blowing his cover. Luckily, the other young man had had an even weaker stomach for murder, and he’d disappeared behind the containers, puking long enough for Jacob to make his pitch to Emilio, fire off his weapon and meet the guy as he was returning—looking more than a little relieved that Jacob had “taken care of things” without him.
Knocking on the office door, he scanned the area. Containers were being unloaded at the port terminal, and the place was full of people. He’d never been here during the day before, and he hoped no one questioned his presence. Though his sheriff’s badge in his pocket gave him a much stronger sense of peace than the illegal gun he’d carried the last time he was there.
Emilio opened the door. “Can I help you?” he asked, his frown indicating that he didn’t recognize the forty-pound-lighter, clean-shaven cop.
“Emilio, it’s me,” he said, lowering the collar. “Jake.”
Still, the man hesitated, holding the door open just a fraction. “Jake who?”
Jacob held out his hand to reveal the knife-wound scar he’d suffered from the guy before he’d had a chance to explain that he was undercover and was trying to save his life. “The man you stabbed.”
Emilio’s eyes widened. “Jake?” He opened the door wider and ushered him inside. “You look so different.”
“More handsome, I hope,” he said, shaking the man’s hand.
“Well, you’re no Channing Tatum,” Emilio said. “You’re also not supposed to be here.” He lowered his voice. “I heard your cover was blown, and the bust was...a bust.”
Jacob