You're the One Page 3

Del placed the can down. “What’s going on?”

  “Something. I can’t say. But those blokes are not as harmless as they seem, and they know you can see things from up on your roof. I’m asking you, Del, please don’t go on the roof, and please lock your doors and windows.”

  “They’ve been bad news for years and I’m not going to lock myself in during the day without good reason.” She waved one hand around. “I’ve lived all my life in Gully’s Fall, no one here locks their doors or windows during the day, and some only lock their doors at night.”

  That had the muscle flexing in his jaw again. “You?”

  “I have window locks, remember? I can lock my windows so they’re only partially open for fresh air but can’t be moved further.”

  “Flimsy locks. Change them.” He glanced around. “In fact, have you ever thought about security screens?”

  “In Gully’s Fall? No!”

  He looked right at her. “I’m worried about you.”

  Aw, that was kind of unexpectedly sweet. She actually melted a little, dimpled a smile at him.

  His gaze dropped to her mouth and lingered for several seconds before he muttered, “I’m even more worried now.”

  Palms flat on the bench, she relaxed. “Moz, just tell me.”

  “I can’t. Just do as I tell you, okay?”

  The man was serious, deadly serious. But if he wasn’t going to explain what the hell was going on, she certainly wasn’t going to blindly obey. He just didn’t have to know that.

  With a sigh, Del looked down at the drink can, shifted it around a little, bit her lip, sighed again and finally looked up at Moz. “Okay. Fine.”

  She’d have thought he’d be thrilled, instead, Moz’s gaze narrowed and suddenly his eyes were back to boring right into hers. “Okay? Fine?”

  “Yes. Okay. Fine. I will lock the doors. Happy?”

  “What about the roof?”

  “I won’t go up on the roof.”

  “You won’t?”

  She gave him big eyes.

  He studied her suspiciously.

  “What?”

  “Just like that? You’re giving in?”

  “I don’t get it. One minute you’re mad because I won’t do something, then when I finally agree, you get all suspicious.”

  “For you, it seems too easy.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you.” Definitely not the truth.

  After staring at her for a length of time, Moz leaned forward unnervingly, bending down to peer into her eyes.

  Man certainly had a thing for looking a person in the eyes. Del blinked back at him.

  “Right.” His voice was low and more than a touch gravely with threat. “I’m holding you to this.”

  Del coolly raised her eyebrows.

  “I find out you’re lying, I’ll be back.”

  “Back to what? Yell at me?”

  “If you’re lucky.”

  Oh boy, that sounded…deliciously threatening. Keep sane, girl, keep calm. “You won’t be back.”

  A little more of the eye boring before Moz straightened abruptly. “We’ll see.”

  Del took a sip of Diet Coke, refusing to break eye contact. No way was she going to back down, not now she’d regained some sense.

  “Catch you later.”

  “Sure. If I unlock the door to you, that is.”

  One dark eyebrow rose but he didn’t reply, leaving the kitchen in long strides.

  A small smile quirking her lips, Del leaned against the bench and continued sipping from the can. Boy, that man certainly didn’t know her very well, honestly thinking she’d just stand there and take his orders. If he only knew-

  “Are you coming to lock this damned door behind me?” Moz called from the front of the house.

  Damn it. Del screwed up her nose. The only way she was going to get rid of him was to do as he said. For now.

  Moz was waiting for her, standing on the veranda with arms crossed, a frown on his face. Wow, that frown aimed at her was starting to become a little familiar.

  She flicked the security screen lock. “There. Happy?”

  “Yeah.” The mirrored sun glasses he slid onto his nose hid his eyes, but she could still feel the intensity of his gaze as he looked down at her through the screen. “I’d advise you to keep me that way.”

  “Pfft. I’ve had threats from the blokes before, why would I be more afraid of yours?”

  Damn, she wished she could see his eyes as he just looked at her. The sunglasses did a good job of hiding his thoughts.

  “I’ll tell you why,” Moz drawled softly.

  “I can’t wait.”

  “Because your friends are more bark than bite.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so. They bark, but Del, I bite.” With that, Moz swung around and walked off the veranda.

  Holy crap. Del could only watch in astonishment as the inspector strode to his ute, got in and drove off her property.

  It was several seconds before she finally closed her mouth. When her male friends threatened her she felt nothing but annoyance or humour and mentally flipped them the bird. But with Moz, crap on a stick, she couldn’t help but wonder…where exactly would he bite, and just what would his bite be?

  At that thought, she became aware of something else.

  Well hell, Moz Baylon apparently could make her panties a little damp.

  ~*~

  Moz was under no illusions. Delia Miller had no intention of taking heed of his warnings. His jaw clenched. The damned woman had lied right to his face without the blink of an eye or a glimmer of remorse.

  If she thought he was kidding her about his bite being worse than his bark, she had another think coming.

  Right now, however, duty called.

  Pulling in behind the vet clinic, he saw the cop car already parked near the back door. Getting out of the ute, he headed inside, going through into the hallway. Being Sunday the clinic was closed, no staff around but the vet waiting for him.

  Already familiar with the way, he turned into a side room to see Grant, the vet, and Kirk, one of the local cops, standing beside the table where the body of a large dog lay.

  Grant looked at him, his normally pleasant face grim, while Kirk maintained that stoic cop face, the only sign of his anger the hardness of his eyes.

  Moz nodded at them both before turning his attention to the dog. “So, what do you reckon?”

  “Dog fight.” Hands in his pockets, Grant shook his head. “Poor bugger.”

  “While Phil was patrolling this morning, he found another carcass down near the river.” Kirk looked at Moz. “You were up at the sale yards checking the stock going on the trucks, so we didn’t call you straight away. Thought I’d let you know when you got here.”

  “Damn it.” Moz hated this so much. “Dog fight, Grant?”

  “Afraid so. There’s no doubting the wounds, and I’m telling you blokes, the fight was vicious.” The vet looked moodily down at the body on the table.

  Moz followed his gaze, silence falling on the small group as they all gazed down at the dog. The animal was a mess, old cuts and scars, fresh wounds clotted with dried blood. What they were all suspecting was like a bitterness in the very air, touching each of them.

  “Bloody dog fighting.” Grant stroked the dog’s head gently. “Goddamn, bloody dog fighting.”

  “I spoke to the council rangers yesterday, no one has reported missing any small pets,” Kirk stated. “So that’s one thing. No animals being stolen to use for baiting and training dog fights.”

  “At least not here.” Moz paused. “Not yet.”

  “Turns my stomach to think anyone in Gully’s Fall could be involved in something like this.” Kirk rubbed his brow.

  “May not be here, they could be just using this place as a dumping ground. Gully’s Fall is a small place, if dog fighting were going on around here almost everyone would know within hours.”

  “Yeah. They’re a good bunch around here.” Kirk
met his gaze levelly. “But you know as well as I do that we also get travellers through, and people from other towns are probably involved. Dog fighting rings aren’t just isolated, they can involve a lot of people from different places.”

  “Speaking of isolated, I dropped in on Harding’s place just awhile ago.” Moz leaned one hand on the cold, steel table. “Follow-up inspection to ensure he’d complied with one of the animal welfare codes I’d warned him about. He’d complied.”

  “And you just happened to have a look around,” Grant said.

  “Doing my job. I can say I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.”

  “His usual crony with him?” Kirk asked.

  “Dawson was there.”

  “Figures.”

  “And so was a bloke named Cutter.”

  Kirk’s gaze sharpened. “Really?’

  “According to Del, they’ve been friends for years.”

  “Del?”

  Moz met his gaze. “She was up on the roof of her house watching them.”

  Kirk’s jaw clenched, the only sign he was far from happy. “On the roof?”

  “Oh yeah.” Grant nodded. “I’ve heard about her liking for sitting up there. She sees everything.”

  Moz said, “I had a talk to her.”

  “I’ll see her later,” Kirk said at the same time.

  Yeah, and Moz wanted to see Kirk later about the very same thing. His eyes must have relayed something, because one of the cop’s eyebrows rose a little.

  Grant, still looking down at the dog, missed everything. “So where do we go from here?”

  Kirk switched his attention to the vet. “We’ll investigate from our end, ask some questions, step up patrols.”

  “You’d want to ask discreetly, otherwise whoever is doing this is going to hear.”

  “Thanks. I’d never have known how to do that unless you’d just told me.”

  Moz grinned.

  “Sharing my expertise,” Grant said.

  “From dealing with little old ladies and their savage little pooches?” Kirk looked at him.

  “Don’t under estimate little old ladies and their savage little pooches. You of all people should know that.”

  “Duly noted.” Kirk looked at Moz. “Don’t know what you’re smiling about. I hear you got the rough end of Mrs Montague’s tongue for mentioning how round her dog was.”

  Grant whistled. “You took on Ryder’s mother? Brave man.”

  “Stupid, I’d say,” Kirk added.

  “Some of us just have to be big boys and deal with the tougher aspects of life,” Moz said.

  “So what are you doing about her?” Grant smirked.

  “Bugger all. The woman may look like a beauty queen, but she has a tongue on her like a razor blade. Nearly made my hide bleed.”

  “Good thing you’re so tough.”

  “I said the tougher aspects of life. I didn’t say Mrs Montague. She’s a whole other category.”

  Kirk and Grant grinned.

  “Right, back to business.” Moz looked at the dog. “I’ll let the town rangers know what’s going on, as well as report to the rangers in Ellor’s Loop and surrounding towns. I’ll see what reports they’re getting, check the towns’ vets, see who has incidents of hurt or dead dogs. Hopefully we can find a common link.”

  “One link and we can follow the whole thread.” Kirk started for the door. “Okay, I’ll report back to the boss, let him know what’s happening, and we can alert the cops in nearby towns.”

  Moz helped Grant slide the dog into a bag and place it in the freezer kept especially for animal bodies. Once they’d finished, they washed their hands and went into the office where Grant dropped down into the chair behind the desk.

  Moz remained standing, hands in his pockets as he peered out the window.

  “How’s the house hunting going?” Grant queried.

  “Not easy,” Moz replied. “Julia’s boarding house is lovely, very peaceful, but Mozart isn’t happy.”

  “Mozart doesn’t like staying with Elissa and Simon?”

  “He and Arthur don’t get on.”

  “Arthur’s an old cat who has claimed Simon’s house as his. Having an interloper isn’t going to go down well.”

  Leaning his hips back against the wall, Moz folded his arms. “Julia said I could have him at the boarding house, she was happy for him to stay in the bedroom. Elissa said not to worry, Arthur would get over it. Dee said Mozart can stay at the flat or Ryder’s depending on where their cats are at the time. I just don’t feel right about any of it.”

  “Shifting him from place to place with the smell of strange cats constantly around can cause some issues.”

  “Yeah. Don’t want him to start fire-hosing the places down. Nothing worse than the smell of cat piddle.”

  Grant grimaced. “Actually, trust me, there are worse things.”

  “Okay. But I don’t want him starting to spray other people’s homes.” Moz sighed. “I really need to get a house, move Mozart back in with me. I could have left him in a boarding cattery but he gets freaked.”

  “Bad memories.”

  “Yeah, bad memories.”

  “He can stay with me,” Grant offered. “I told you that.”

  “I appreciate it, but you already have an assortment of strays living with you.”

  “My place is still bigger than a bedroom.”

  “Argh!” Moz rubbed his brow. “I don’t want to foist him on to different people all the time. I just need to find a house and get him home with me.”

  Grant smiled slightly. “I get it. I’ll continue to keep an eye out for you.”

  “Thanks.” Moz pushed away from the wall. “Speaking of Mozart, I better go and visit him. He gets a little freaked if I don’t see him.”

  “You mean the way he chewed through the wool blanket?”

  “He’s a little unsettled.”

  “Moz, that cat is a lot more than a little unsettled.”

  “Okay, so he has some issues. Give him a break.” Moz started for the door. “Catch you later.”

  The drive to Simon’s house was nice, the sun hot outside, summer all around. Hot, dry, yet life still went on. Kids still played, birds took shelter in the trees, sheep grazed, the fields were as a summer season would find them.

  Pulling into Simon’s driveway, he got out and stretched, inhaling the summer air. Yep, hot, but it was fresh country air, too, all clean and wholesome. He’d only been here a short time, but he’d visited Gully’s Fall a few times since his sister hooked up with the redheaded firie so it wasn’t a strange place. Best decision he’d ever made was accepting the job as RSPCA inspector and moving to this side of Australia. New life, new job.

  Going up onto the veranda, he spotted the old, snaggled-toothed, one-eyed cat giving him the wary eye from the old armchair in the corner of the veranda.

  “Hey, Arthur.” Moving across to him, Moz knelt on one knee and proffered his fingers to the cat.

  Arthur sniffed his fingers before looking away with a put-upon expression.

  Grinning, Moz rubbed behind his ears gently, rewarded by the spasmodic purring that broke out.

  The door opened, his sister peering around the edge. “You’d better wash your hands before you pat Mozart. He’ll spazz out if he smells Arthur on you.”

  Giving Arthur a last couple of strokes, Moz pushed to his feet. “How is he?”

  “Which boy? Arthur’s angry, Mozart is, well, Mozart.”

  “Mozart’s freaked.”

  “Weirdly so.” She held the door open. “Don’t let the flies in.”

  “You’re the one with the door open.”

  “I’m being polite, boofhead.”

  Laughing, Moz followed her inside, automatically flicking the security screen lock.

  “Simon’s in the lounge,” Elissa said.

  “Okay.”

  “I mean, there’s no need to lock the door. I’m not here alone.”

  “Huh. Old habits die hard.
”

  Simon appeared in the lounge room doorway, a glass of iced coffee in one hand, a sandwich in the other. “City boys.

  “You weren’t born in the country.”

  His brother-in-law was completely unfazed. “Been here in the country for awhile.” He affected a long, slow drawl. “Once you live in the country, ain’t no goin’ back to the big smoke.”

  “Am I supposed to be impressed by that appalling accent?”

  “City folk just don’t understand us country folk.”

  “This is getting worse.” Moz looked down at his sister. “What did you put in his sandwich?”

  “Sardine and onion. Don’t look at me, it was his choice.”

  Simon grinned widely. “Want to give your brother-in-law a big, welcome hug hello?”

  “Prefer to kick your arse.”

  “I’m hurt.”

  “You would be. I have to order my size boots.”

  “Big foot. Maybe we should nickname you Yeti.”

  “Maybe I should rearrange your accent.”

  “Maybe you should go see Mozart.” Elissa slid between them.

  “She’s worried about little me.” Smugly, Simon took a big bite of the smelly sardine and onion sandwich.

  Moz looked at the firie. Dressed comfortably in cargo shorts and t-shirt, feet bare, red hair tousled, Simon had the lazy look about him that meant he was in a lazy mood and had probably spent most of the day sacked out on the sofa. But his lazy demeanour was belied by the tall, muscular build, the fit body the firies were required to keep in shape for their job, and he knew behind the lazy smile was a sharp, keen mind. Plus even though his brother-in-law had his lazy moments when he liked to sloth around, and in fact, he’d been known to lie on the hammock out back and not move for hours, he worked hard. He’d almost single-handedly renovated the old house he’d bought before Elissa had come along, he did his share of the housework, and he was well known for helping others’ out.

  Basically, Simon was a good bloke and he loved Elissa deeply, was devoted to her, and for that reason alone Moz accepted him. However, if he ever hurt Elissa, Simon was going to be in a whole world of pain.

  “How about just a hand shake?” Moz offered.

  “Are you shitting me? Last time you did that I almost had to have it x-rayed.”

  Moz grinned.

  “See that?” Simon asked Elissa. “Told you he’d done it deliberately.”