by Virna DePaul
Barring that, she’d been lucky. Inmates manufactured shanks all the time. If Dusty had managed to slip one in with him—
“Where’s the inmate?” she asked even as she pulled away.
Dom clenched his jaw and barely resisted the urge to grab for her. He forced himself to take several steps back. “He’s in the holding cell. Don’t worry, I have another guard watching him, one who isn’t a damn fool this time.”
She nodded. Looked over his shoulder. “Good. That’s…good.”
When he didn’t speak or move away, she gestured to the door. “Well, I need to get the—”
Unable to help himself, he raised his hand and hooked a strand of her hair that had fallen in her eyes. Despite her quick inhalation of breath, he tucked it behind her ear and let his hand hover there. Their gazes locked and he felt his heart slam against his chest, over and over, beating into his brain, It’s her, It’s her, It’s her.
Her lips parted and she moistened them with her tongue. Helpless, his gaze followed the movement and lingered. This close to her, his body shifted into autopilot, as if ten years had never passed. He grew aroused. His breath deepened. His fingers itched to reacquaint themselves with her hair and breasts and hips.
“Dom…?” she whispered. It had the effect of a gunshot.
Dropping his hand, he swiftly moved back, putting several feet between them. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d meant only to check up on her, yet the minute he got anywhere close to her, he lost his mind. She was certainly staring at him as if she believed that to be true.
“I’m going to need you to fill out a statement. Since I was a witness, I can’t take it myself, so I’ll send another deputy over. Please wait here.”
“But I—”
Turning away, he pretended he didn’t hear her.
He knew exactly what that made him.
An even bigger coward than when he’d broken up with her.
Mattie’s knees were trembling so much she barely made it to a chair before she collapsed. Although she’d been shaken by the incident with the inmate, most of her current distress had to do with the man who’d just left—the same man who’d looked as if wanted to suck on her from head to toe. What was even worse, his intense scrutiny had made her own libido, put on ice for far too long now, go into overdrive. She felt flushed. Achy.
Empty.
But also confused.
Dom had looked at her with such tenderness. It seemed she was right. He did remember her. So why was he continuing to pretend he didn’t?
A thought occurred to her and her chest constricted with shame.
Maybe he was worried she’d try to pick up where they’d left off. Maybe he figured, now that she was a single mother and getting on in years, never mind packing on a few extra pounds, she’d hit on him? But then why show so much concern for her arm? And what about the desire that had darkened his blue eyes?
Shaking her head, she closed her own eyes and took a deep breath. The man was as confusing as ever. And, she reminded herself, opening her eyes, she had better things to do than let him play with her emotions again. She’d fallen for that white knight, your-soul-calls-to-mine act before only to be dumped. Hard.
She needed to stay on course—protect herself and stay away from him.
Biting her lip, she retrieved her cell phone from her pocket and dialed Ty Martinez’s number. “Hey, Ty. This is Mattie. I just wanted to say hello and tell you how much I’m looking forward to our date tonight.”
“Idiot,” Dom muttered as he made his way back to the in-custody holding cell. What had he been thinking? He should have known that with Mattie, even the slightest touch would send him over the edge. Now he couldn’t get the dazed, heated look in her eyes out of his head. Despite their past, despite her believing he’d forgotten her, she’d responded just as violently to his closeness as he had. When she’d whispered his name, it had taken all his self-discipline to leave her rather than fall to his knees and confess everything—how much he’d missed her and still wanted her.
Only one thing had stopped him. As much as he wanted her, he wanted her safe most of all. To insure that, he needed to stay objective. He also needed to find out if Dusty had any connection to Guapo.
Reaching his destination, he paused, took a deep breath, and went inside. Pete was gone. He thanked the remaining deputy, then shut the door. The room was quiet except for Dusty’s rough breathing. Deliberately, Dom remained silent for several more minutes before he turned and strode to the opposite side of the room. Grabbing an empty chair, he twirled it around and lowered himself into it. Straddling the chair and resting his chin on his folded arms, Dom stared at Dusty, noting how the usually easygoing inmate couldn’t quite look him in the eye.
Minutes ticked by, but still Dom waited. When Dusty wasn’t looking at the floor, he cast apprehensive glances at the door that led to the jail transport bay. The more time that passed, the more jittery Dusty became. He bounced his knee. Swiped his nose against his shoulder. Tossed his head like he had a permanent crick in his neck that he couldn’t get rid of.
Despite the fact that the guy had been incarcerated for several weeks, his glassy, dilated eyes told Dom he was on something, most likely meth. That posed three immediate questions. Where’d he get it? Did he get it in exchange for making an attempt on Judge Butler? And was his ensuing assault upon Mattie coincidence?
Of course, it appeared coincidental. After all, if Dusty had arrived at the courthouse twenty minutes earlier, he would have been locked down well before Mattie ever stepped into the courtroom. But Dom didn’t take anything at face value. Everything—the tardiness of the jail bus, Pete Littlefield’s uncharacteristic carelessness, even Mattie herself—was immediately suspect.
It was another five minutes before Dusty snapped.
“Come on, man. You taking me into court or back to jail?”
Dom let him sweat another thirty seconds before answering. “Maybe neither.”
The quiet words brought Dusty’s gaze zooming directly to his. “Whad’ya mean?”
Straightening, he casually moved the chair he’d been sitting on against one wall and stepped closer. He loomed over Dusty, forcing him to crane his neck up at him. “I mean, you made a mistake trying to hurt a woman on my watch, Dusty. Before, you were just a two-bit thief with a drug habit and a big mouth. Now, you’re an attempted murderer.”
Eyeballs practically popping out of their sockets, Dusty once more swiped his nose on the shoulder of his jumpsuit. “Murder? Yeah, right. I barely touched her.”
“And exactly what were you planning on doing if you caught her? I bet you would have touched her a whole lot more.”
Dusty grinned, showing several gaps between crooked, stained teeth. “It ain’t like that, man. I just panicked. I’ve been in that little cell for days. I was starting to get claustrophobic.”
Grasping the back of the other man’s chair, Dom leaned down until he could see his reflection in Dusty’s dark pupils. “Cut the bull. You’re a small-time druggie, Dusty. You would have pled and been on your way to rehab in the next day or two. You’ve been in the system long enough to know that. So why’d you do it?”
“I told you, I panicked—”
Straightening, Dom forced himself to take a step back. Then another. That conflicting mix of ice and heat, the one he’d felt when Cam had told him about Joel, was back. He suddenly didn’t trust himself not to step over the line, and his tenuous hold on his control shocked him. “The guy who gave you a fix. When did he first contact you?”
Dusty’s gaze skittered away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re going to take a drug test whether you want to or not, and then you’re going to be charged with yet another count of under the influence. That, with a charge of assault and attempted escape? Well, let’s just say you better get over that claustrophobia really fast. There won’t be any more drug rehab on the horizon. You’re going to prison, man. I can’t see a skinny gu
y like you lasting very long there.”
Dusty narrowed his eyes and spat on the floor. “I can handle it.”
After staring at the blob of saliva on the floor, Dom looked back at Dusty. Fear flashed in the other man’s eyes, making Dom smile evilly. He activated his radio. “Prisoner ready for transport back to the jail.” Dom casually strolled toward the inner door that would take him back to the courtroom.
“Wait!”
He paused with his hand on the doorknob and slowly turned around. “Something you needed, Dusty?”
“So—um. So what happens if I tell you who gave me the stuff? You gonna drop the charges? You know, the assault. The escape charge?”
“I’m a cop, not a lawyer. I can’t do anything like that. But if you cooperate, I’ll talk to the D.A. myself. If you don’t, well…”
Dusty swallowed hard and cast another glance at the outer door. “The other inmate. Martin Johnson. He slipped me a hit in the holding cell just before we loaded. Told me he had more and all I had to do was cause a little ruckus here.”
Dom pressed the button on his radio. “Hold off on transport.” He retraced his steps into the room. “Did he specify what kind of ruckus?”
“No.”
“Did he say anything about the judge? Or Mathilda Nolan?”
“Who’s Mathilda?” Realization sparked in his eyes. “Oh. The brown-haired babe?” Flicking his tongue obscenely, Dusty murmured, “You got something going with her?”
Dom was sure he didn’t react by so much as a flicker, but Dusty latched onto the idea and wouldn’t let go. “You do, don’t you? Isn’t that some kind of, I don’t know, conflict or something?”
“Stay focused here. So for a hit of meth, you put your freedom on the line? With no further instruction than that? Without asking for any kind of motive?”
A shadow darkened Dusty’s eyes before he narrowed them and snorted. “Freedom? I ain’t been free for over twenty years, man. You ever been addicted? You ever needed something so bad, you were willing to do anything to get it?”
An image of Mattie’s doe eyes and full lips flashed in Dom’s mind before he ruthlessly shoved it away. He’d fought that particular craving for days, and just as he’d expected, it was Mattie and not sheer boredom that was making this assignment so tough.
“What do you know about Johnson?” Dom would get the man’s file himself and talk to Pete after he debriefed Johnson. But it was always helpful to hear what the other inmates knew about one another.
Dusty snorted. “He ain’t exactly forthcoming about himself, if you get my point.”
Sighing, Dom shook his head. “Dusty, Dusty, Dusty. My willingness to help you with the D.A. is growing smaller as we speak. I know you’ve got ears. And I know you wouldn’t pull something like this unless more than meth was involved. He threaten you?”
“No.”
“Dusty.”
Dusty’s expression hardened. “He didn’t threaten me, man. He just…he’s got money. Pull. Resources, if you get my drift. How often does a Richie Rich land in the jail, willing to make my time a little easier in exchange for something so easy. I’m telling you, that’s it. And I’m not saying anything else until my attorney gets here.”
“Oh, that’s fine.” Dom leaned down close so that Dusty was forced to look at him. The other man’s eyes flickered with fear, which is exactly what Dom intended. “While you wait for your attorney, be sure to think about me. Because if you hurt that woman you attacked, if you ever come near her again, no one, not your attorney, not Mr. Richie Rich, not even your mother, will keep you safe.”
Chapter 6
An hour later, Mattie thanked the sheriff’s deputy who took her statement and the paramedic who’d come to examine her. When she’d asked who’d called the paramedics, the deputy had told her Dom. Talk about overkill. Although the paramedic had offered to take her to the hospital, she’d refused, just barely able to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Take her to the hospital for what? A few marks on her arm? With the courtroom packed with impatient attorneys and their clients, she knocked on Judge Butler’s door.
“Come in,” he called from inside.
Mattie opened the door and stepped into the judge’s large, airy office. Judge Patrick Butler had graying hair and was of average height, but his lean frame could have belonged to someone fifteen years younger. He rose from behind his desk and waved her in. Mattie stepped inside but froze when she saw the much larger form rising from one of the plush chairs situated in front of the judge.
Dominic.
A slight frown furrowed his brows when he saw her. The nerves that had just started to calm within her tingled with awareness.
Focusing on the judge, Mattie said, “I’m done giving my statement, your honor. We can start court whenever you’re ready.”
“You told me you weren’t hurt, Mattie, but Deputy Jeffries thinks you should be going to the hospital.”
Refusing to look at the man whose gaze she could feel lasering into her, Mattie shook her head. “Deputy Jeffries is being overly cautious.”
“Take off your sweater,” the man in question ordered.
Mattie glared at him and clutched the black sweater she’d donned minutes before as if he meant to rip it off her.
He turned back to the judge. “Her right arm is scratched. With Dusty Monroe’s background, I wouldn’t take that lightly.”
“I’m not asking you to take anything lightly,” Mattie retorted. “I’m not asking you for anything at all. I’m fine. I washed the scratches and the paramedics checked me out. I’d really just like to get back to work now. The courtroom is packed and people are getting restless.”
Mattie paused, fully aware she was babbling. Embarrassment and frustration made her snap, “Shouldn’t you be out there doing your job instead of playing amateur doctor? You’re only here for another few weeks, right?”
His frown deepened, then relaxed. His eyes took on a calculating air that made her automatically take a step back. One he noticed. “She’s right, your honor. I’ll relieve the deputy inside—”
Mattie flushed when she realized someone else had been watching the courtroom while he’d been talking to the judge.
“—and Pete can talk to you as soon as he’s done at the station.”
“Very well. Thank you, Deputy.”
Dominic walked toward the door but paused by Mattie’s side. “Who told you I was only here for a few weeks?”
Feigning a sudden interest in the judge’s cream and blue striped curtains, Mattie shrugged and tried to sound unconcerned. “Our regular bailiff comes back from paternity leave at the end of the month.” When he didn’t answer immediately, she couldn’t stop herself from looking up at him.
“That may be true, but I stay for as long as I’m needed.”
Her jaw dropped at his words, stated so calmly but with an undeniable air of challenge. She knew for a fact he was lying. Tilting her chin up, she met his gaze squarely. “I don’t need anything from you, Deputy Jeffries.” Not anymore.
It was there again, that strange glimpse of amusement when his expression was entirely passive. He lowered his head to hers, his warm breath tickling her ear as he whispered, “Now, that hasn’t always been true, has it, Mattie-mine?”
She reared back, staring at him as realization grabbed her by the throat and shook her like a rag doll. He did remember her. Any vindication or salve to her ego was overshadowed by suspicion, and the express confirmation that he’d been playing her for a fool and obviously felt no remorse.
She wasn’t aware that her mouth had fallen open until he nudged it closed with one finger.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t remember you the instant I saw you?” he said softly. “Or did you just pretend that’s what you believed because it was the safest course?”
With that final question, he strode from the room, quietly shutting the door behind him.
She was still staring at the door when Judge Butler chuckled. “Something y
ou want to tell me, Mattie?”
Startled, she shook her head. “What? Of course not, your honor. Deputy Jeffries is just being overly—”
“—cautious. Yes, so you said. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” Now there was a whopper of a lie. Dominic’s challenge—and that’s certainly what it had been—had her knees knocking together under her skirt. “Thank you, your honor.”
Mattie walked to the door and pulled it open just as the judge called to her. She turned with her hand on the doorknob.
“Yes?”
“I’m glad you weren’t hurt today, Mattie.” He rose, placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and squeezed. Uncomfortable with the intensity of his gaze, she stepped away when his touch lingered. He noted her movement, but smiled anyway. “How is Tony doing? You know I’m always here if either of you need me, but I haven’t heard from him in awhile.”
With a smile that hopefully reflected her appreciation, Mattie responded, “Tony’s fine. Thank you for asking.”
Raising his arm, Judge Butler showed her the small shopping bag in his hand. He smiled sheepishly. “You know what good friends your parents were to me. Margaret and I wanted to give you a few things. I know times are tough for you now.” He raised his hand to forestall Mattie’s protest. “Nothing lavish. Just a few small gifts for you and Jordan. Tony, too. Would you give it to him?”
“Of course.” Mattie took the bag he offered. “Thank you again.” Stepping outside, she shut the door, then leaned back against it. She felt strange about the gifts and sincerely hoped they weren’t anything expensive. If they were, she’d give them back. She’d always enjoyed and cherished her relationship with Judge Butler, but lately, something about his interest in her personal life made her uncomfortable. Closing her eyes, she took several slow, deep breaths. Weariness made her limbs heavy. Maybe Dominic had been right. Maybe she should have gone to the hospital, then home.