One could argue that a small town like Del Sol didn’t need a sniper.
One would be wrong.
Also, the girl could shoot the wings off a fruit fly at a thousand yards. Metaphorically speaking.
“Have you told her yet?” she asked.
“Crap, I forgot,” Quince said. “Zee and I found out we’re actually twins separated at birth.”
Sun turned back, her interest piqued.
“Weird, right?” Zee asked, nodding in confirmation.
And Zee was the sane one.
“Very,” Sun agreed. “Especially since he’s half-Latino with blond hair, blue eyes, and a below-average level of common sense and you’re a stunning black woman with ebony hair, hazel eyes, and an above-average level of common sense. Way, way above.”
“Exactly,” Quince said, taking another bite.
“Like, atmospheric.”
He nodded. “Weird.”
When Sun started back to her office, she heard Zee say proudly, “Did you hear that? She called me stunning.”
“Yeah, well, since we’re twins, it was a compliment to both of us.”
“No way. That was my compliment. I get to keep all of it.”
“You were always selfish, even when we were kids.”
“Insult me again and I’ll eat the last cursed muffin.”
Sun laughed and continued toward her office with a new vigor. So far, she’d racked up three mysteries that needed solving fairly quickly. First, who were the Dangerous Daughters, and why did the mayor care so much? Second, how was she going to convince Mrs. Sorenson and Mr. Madrid to stop fighting and just date already? And third, what was up with Lieutenant Bo Britton? Because, as subtle as Quincy’s evasive tactics were—Note to self: never send that man in undercover—something did not add up.
And it was barely nine o’clock. She could only hope she’d survive the post until noon.
“Hey!” Quincy shouted. “I thought you were going to address the troops.”
Sun whirled on her toes and looked at Del Sol’s finest.
“Right.” She tossed the wrapper in a trash can and stuffed her hands into her pockets.
The deputies gave her their full attention just as Sun’s gaze darted to the gas pumps across the street where a truck had pulled in.
A truck she’d know anywhere.
His truck.
Her eyes rounded, and Quincy turned to look over his shoulder.
“Um, thank you guys for being here this morning,” Quincy said, coming to Sun’s rescue. “You guys are doing great work, and the sheriff looks forward to getting to know all of you better.”
A couple of the deputies clapped hesitantly as Sun stood glued to the spot, watching the man she’d been in love with since she was old enough to appreciate boys for what they were: boys.
Across the street, Levi Ravinder climbed down from his black Ford Raptor and slammed his door shut. He was agitated, his movements hurried and aggressive as he loaded supplies into the bed.
A man Sun assumed was one of his plethora of cousins filled up the tank. Levi shouted something to him, and the man showed him a palm in surrender. And then, as though he felt her presence, as though he sensed her focus on him, he turned toward the station and locked gazes with her.
Only he couldn’t have. There was no way he could see her, especially where she stood now, in the middle of the deputies’ office.
He scanned the front of the building before turning back to his cousin.
“After all this time?” Quincy asked, coming to stand beside her again.
She shook her head, embarrassed. “No. I’m just—” She exhaled, giving up the game. “I haven’t seen him in so long.”
“Yeah, well, he hasn’t changed much.”
Holy mother of God, was he wrong. Even from a distance, she could see the changes, and none of them were exactly subtle. His hair had gotten darker. His jaw stronger. His shoulders wider.
She stepped toward the lobby for a better look. She’d seen pictures, of course, a.k.a. she’d stalked his social media, but nothing had prepared her for the real thing. Especially where her bones were concerned, because they’d apparently dissolved.
He turned and went back to work, loading bottles of water and what looked like camping equipment into the truck bed, and Sun realized he wasn’t wearing a jacket. His tan T-shirt didn’t hide much. She could see the sculpting of sinew and muscle, his forearms cording with every movement, the shadows hugging his biceps ebbing and flowing with every effort. The effect was hypnotic.
Quincy elbowed her softly. “I could bring him in on suspected . . . anything.”
Sun laughed softly. “Thanks, but I’m okay. It’s better if we don’t talk. Or come face-to-face. Or have contact of any kind whatsoever.”
“Well,” Quincy said, taking a sip of coffee, “good luck with that.” He walked away and left Sun alone with her musings.
Sadly, alone with her musings was a dangerous place to be. Especially when she noticed that even though his coffee-colored hair had darkened, the stubble he’d worn since high school, the stubble that made him look charmingly disheveled, had grown a deeper, richer auburn. And though she couldn’t see his eyes, she’d dreamed about them almost daily. The rich, tawny color like whiskey in the sun. The long, dark lashes she would have given her left kidney for. The scythe-shaped brows that always lent him a look of mischief.
She walked closer to the plate-glass windows for a better view. He wasn’t a model, but he should have been. The world would have been all the richer for it.
Sun forced herself to snap out of it. She was back and Levi had never left, and the two were bound to see each other now and again. The only question was, how would she survive the stretches in between?
After another glance at the station, one that had Sun retreating back from the window, Levi walked toward the store to pay, and Sun realized just how lucky his jeans were to be able to hug such a perfect ass.
He disappeared inside the building and left her with no other choice but to finally take note of his truck. It had a custom wrap with his company’s logo on it, Dark River Shine, and pride swelled inside her.
He’d actually managed to take his family’s illegal business—and recipe—and turn it into an insanely successful career as a distiller. Now one of the country’s most prestigious makers of corn whiskey, a.k.a. moonshine, his products had been featured in newspapers and magazines all over the world, and he’d won numerous awards for the 100-proof spirits.
Awards. Just like Puff Daddy. Who knew such subcultures existed?
He stepped out of the Quick-Mart and headed back toward the pumps. Sadly, Sun missed most of his reemergence, because a Mercedes that had been barreling down Main, slipping and sliding on the icy road, jumped the curb and crashed head-on through the plate glass where Sunshine had been standing.
If she hadn’t been so preoccupied, she would have seen it in plenty of time and jumped out of the way. Instead, a barrage of splintered glass sliced across her face and hands. And a split second before the car sideswiped her, she realized her deputies might have been right.
Maybe there really was something to the muffin thing, after all.
Auri stood in the hall, staring at a locker that had the word narc written on it in red spray paint. She looked from the principal to the security guard and back again.