Chapter 1

1

Powell Melissa Barratt was going to be the utter end of him. He knew it. And it would probably be tonight .

Texas State Police Detective Gunnar Erickson held his dance partner at a respectable distance and circled the dance floor of the Barratt-Finley Creek Hotel, careful not to fall flat on his face. Or choke on the woman's cloying perfume that couldn't disguise her thoroughly rotten soul.

He resisted the urge to tug at the bowtie around his neck. He was a man who had spent almost half his life working in law enforcement. Tuxedos weren't ever going to be something he enjoyed wearing.

His date for the evening had ordered what he should wear. Told him where they were going. And why. Then Powell had looked at him with big brown eyes and a knowing smirk. Turning him on instantly—and not having a clue she was doing it.

Powell knew how he felt about these kinds of events.

The little demon was getting even with him for something. And she was running from him tonight. Even though she knew she had to stay where he could see her for this guard duty gig to work.

She'd almost been abducted by unknown assailants two weeks ago—now Gunnar was assigned to guard the woman he wanted more than words could say.

Even if she just kept trying to escape.

"You seem to be a million miles away, Detective Erickson," his dance partner said. Gunnar tuned back in. He was dancing with the head of the Wichita Falls TSP at the moment. The head of the entire TSP, actually. He couldn't afford to look like an ill-mannered imbecile. Even though she made his stomach turn. "Something you would care to share?"

He shook his head lightly. "Just a small problem with a woman. But we'll work it out once I catch her again. I'm looking forward to it."

"Powell looks beautiful this evening. Then again, Melissa Barratt's daughter always does know how to look presentable. I understand her friend is recovering well after the attempted abduction?" The woman knew just about everything that was going on in the TSP. It was her job, after all. But Gunnar had learned long ago not to share secrets. It just wasn't safe. "Dr. Harris, correct?"

"Yes. She's back at work as of a few days ago." Haldyn Harris, Powell's bestie in the entire world, had been abducted during the attack Powell had escaped and then rescued eight hours later. She was the head of the Finley Creek forensics department. The entire TSP was in an uproar now. Gunnar wanted the assholes responsible—so he could tear them apart. He was a simple man at heart—women he cared about had been threatened. Hurt. He wasn't going to forget that easily.

"Excellent. For one so young, Dr. Harris had done a remarkable job with the forensics department out of Finley Creek. So much so that I can eventually see offering her the position of head of our lab at Wichita Falls. It may be more in keeping with the level of her skills."

Gunnar just nodded. Not that he could ever see Haldyn Harris leaving Finley Creek. "She's very good at what she does."

"From what I have seen, all of Major Crimes is good at what they do. How is Lieutenant Coleson adjusting to life in Finley Creek? I understand she recently returned from maternity leave. A girl this time, as well?" Commander Hamler was making idle chitchat, but he felt like he was in a damned interrogation.

As the suspect.

He concentrated on his boss's words—while scanning the ballroom for a particular woman in a blue dress.

"Yes. Heather is now in charge of our new cold case division. Along with Detective Foster. Heather seems to be very good at solving mysteries from the past." And Lieutenant Heather Coleson was a complete mystery herself.

He just kept that thought to himself. Heather was one of those women everyone noticed when she walked into the room. She just was.

But Gunnar—Gunnar belonged to the dark-haired woman in deep blue dancing nearby with a man he had never seen before.

He had found her.

Powell wasn't escaping him tonight. She just wasn't.

She wasn't as in-your-face beautiful as Heather, but Powell fascinated Gunnar more than any other woman in existence. He was hers. She just needed to figure that out for herself. And claim him.

He was trying to be patient here.

"I am glad to hear that. I did not know Lieutenant Coleson well—she was on the late shift, I believe—but she had a growing reputation for her…investigative skills."

Something about the woman's tone stuck with him. This was one woman who made a man's skin crawl. Talk about the creepies.

But she was the one who signed the entire stack of paychecks for the TSP. He would mind his manners. And…sanitize…when he got home. Just in case.

"As does her younger sister. A forensics technician, I believe?"

"Hope Coleson's on the second shift crew. We are lucky to get her—from what I heard, she's brilliant, especially at what she does. But very young, and very, very bouncy. A bit hyper, I've heard—but brilliant."

"Age will settle that right out of her. Pity. Major Crimes is doing great things. It is a credit to the TSP."

Yet this woman fought every request the Major Crimes division made. Gunnar wasn't a fool—it wasn't just because she had to be cautious with the budget. This woman didn't like the men of Major Crimes. Not one bit. And she was attacking them with everything in her arsenal lately.

She didn't give a damn that it negatively affected the TSP. She was a pit viper. No denying that.

The music ended. It had been some of the longest five minutes of his life. He bowed slightly, in a way he knew the ladies at these kinds of things liked, and stepped back. "I'm afraid my date for the evening is beckoning me, Commander Hamler. It has been a pleasure."

He was such a liar. Gunnar didn't give a damn.

Powell was doing no such thing—and Rhonda Hamler the viper knew it. Gunnar wasn't a fool.

"It is always a pleasure to visit with one of the men who serve under me," she told him. He knew the woman, old enough to be his mother, liked what she saw when she looked at him.

Gunnar had been told before he was an attractive man.

But talk about making a man's skin crawl. A man would have to be seriously delusional to ever get near that woman's bed.

"It was my honor. But I am all Powell's tonight." And every night going forward. But he kept that part to himself. Ms. Powell Melissa Barratt, Esq., was proving a bit difficult in regard to those plans. "She's just playing hard to get. But…we're in love. She'll catch on eventually."

"Enjoy yourselves. Time flies—and then one finds oneself alone. But then again, I believe you know that."

It was a not-so-subtle dig, a reminder of the wife he had lost and buried years ago. And very nastily done. She liked what he looked like, but neither of them were fools.

Neither of them liked each other one bit.

Commander in Chief of the TSP Rhonda Hamler was a first-class bitch. Gunnar despised her and always had.

But she was a problem for another day.

Tonight, he had his woman to catch.

Gunnar stepped off the dance floor and searched the crowd. For a small woman with long dark brown hair and a dress cut far too low for his blood pressure.

Powell had to be around there somewhere.

He just needed to find her. Again.

She was fast when she wanted to be.

He would always look for one Powell Melissa Barratt, after all.