“I’m not lost. I got locked in that damn hall.”
“Locked in?” His gaze shot to the sagging building. “How did you manage that?”
“Look, could we hold off on the Q & A for now? I have a problem.” She winced from the cactus prickles.
“What?”
“I fell in a patch of cactus,” Cere explained. “And don’t you dare laugh and say I deserve it, Tafoya!”
He chuckled. “You probably do.”
“Fine. I’ll pull them out myself. Just keep your headlights pointed this way.”
The door closed, and Rafe walked over to her. “All right, Medina. Let the sheriff help you.”
“I should warn you,” she said with a grimace. “These stickers aren’t in the most appealing location.”
He stepped behind her, and emitted a soft whistle. “I see. Actually it’s kind of appealing.”
“Scumbag!”
His laugh was low and intimate as he took hold of one arm to steady her. “I hope you’re not squeamish about where I touch because I really can’t help it.”
Cere chewed on her lower lip as pain shot through her. “Just get them out.”
“No problem. What the hell happened to your shoes?”
Rafe listened to Cere’s rambling explanation with half an ear. He was amused by her predicament. Several times he fought back laughter. She did deserve it. And he didn’t mind at all as he took hold of the long needles which protruded from her nicely rounded rump and pulled them out.
She yelped and hopped slightly, and he tightened his grip on her, pulling her against his body to hold her still. She was light, and he caught a whiff of delightful perfume. Something expensive. Rafe inhaled as she dug her nails into his arm in her quest for support.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yes.” Her breathless reply came quickly through bared teeth.
Rafe smiled as he caught a glimpse of her in the silvery glow of headlights. Her delicate face was set, and she bit on her lip as though to keep from crying. The sight of her vulnerability picked at him like the pluck of a guitar string.
He pulled another needle out, and she twisted again. “Cere, just hold on to me. Or I could sit down and put you across my knee. That might be more natural.”
She slapped his arm, but it was a teasing blow. She took hold of his shirt, catching the material in her hand.
“Don’t move,” he ordered, very aware of the warmth of her body against his. Her scent was growing intoxicating—a mixture of the perfume and the warm female smell of sweat.
“That hurts.”
His fingers skimmed over her jeans, seeking more stickers. He tried to be as gentle as possible as he plucked them out.
“Ow!” she cried.
“Sorry.” He found another and rubbed his hands along her backside, trying to convince himself he was looking for more needles. The nicely rounded curves felt good beneath his fingers and sent a ripple of awareness through him. He shouldn’t be enjoying it this much. Too much time had passed since he had touched a woman so intimately.
“Hey!” She slapped his arm again. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I was feeling for more thorns. Yes, there’s one!” He pulled it out, but after that, they were too short to pull out.
“You’re not taking anything out,” she said, pulling away. “You’re just feeling me up. Is that how you examine female prisoners?”
He ignored her sarcasm. He adopted his best official tone. “You’re going to have to take off your pants.”
She shook her head, all traces of humor dissipated. “Not on your life, buddy.”
“I can’t get all of them out, and you’ll never get them out yourself. Come on, let me help you take those off.”
“I’ll bet you’re good at that, aren’t you? Taking off a woman’s pants?”
“Fine. Try to sit. There are still some fine needles and I don’t have fingernails to pull them out.”
“I do.” She lifted her hand, but the glamorous nails she had displayed before were almost invisible. Three were broken and another was hanging. “Damn. I just had those put on.”
“Take off the pants. I’ll help you find your shoe and follow you back to town so you don’t get in anymore trouble.”
Irritation flickered in her eyes. “You expect me to drive in a T-shirt and panties?”
He chuckled. The vision that popped into his head was appealing—too appealing. “I’ll give you my shirt, just to show I’m a gentleman.”
“How kind,” she said sarcastically. All the same, she unzipped her pants, and still holding onto him, tugged them off. He had seen the tanned length of legs earlier, and while he knew he shouldn’t be doing it, Rafe admired them again. He had to stop that. Why was this woman so tempting? It had been years since he’d had this sort of attraction to anyone.
Without the expensive sandals and with her toenails as scuffed as her fingernails, Rafe found her even more tempting. Her tanned legs glowed in the headlights, shapely and muscular. Her panties were pink silk, and she pulled her T-shirt over them. His blood grew warm as his breath came a little quicker. A tightness pulled at his groin.
“Some gentleman. I know you’re looking.”
He couldn’t deny it, and he chuckled again. “I may be a gentleman, but I’m also human.”
“Neanderthal is more like it. Now what about the shirt you promised, Mr. Gentleman?”
He slid out of the shirt, eyes on her face. Cere dropped her eyes as though she couldn’t take the thought of seeing his bare upper torso. For all her city-girl airs, was she actually modest? At least today he had put on a tank top undershirt. He held out the shirt, and she wrapped it around her. The long tail fell nearly to her knees. The picture drew him like a magnet.
“I like the look,” he offered with a smile.
Her lips tightened into a straight line. “I’m sure you do.”
Rafe kept hold of her hand as they walked toward the building to find her other shoe. He found it and helped her put it on, noticing her trim ankles as she used his thigh as a foot rest.
She wiped her hands and stood with her hands on her hips staring at the ghostly outline of the building. “Maybe we should go back in,” she said, bending over to pick up a black shoulder bag.
Rafe stopped admiring her body. “What? Hell, no!”
She flashed an impish grin that struck him harder than the slap of a fly swatter. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid? Have you been in there at night since you were a kid?”
“Of course,” he said.
She rubbed her hands on her legs, eyes on the building. “Do you have a flashlight?”
“Haven’t you had enough of this place for one night? Didn’t you say you were locked in a room? Weren’t you afraid?”
“Only when I thought someone had done it on purpose. You didn’t happen to see Diaz on the road when you were driving here, did you?”
He jerked upright, putting his hand on his gun as though the man might be around. “What makes you think someone was here?”
“I thought I heard footsteps or a car.”
He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “It’s like that night we were out here. We were all convinced we heard something and ran. The place does that to people.”
“You saved me.” Her voice was suddenly soft as she turned to him. “I fell down, and I was afraid those ghosts would catch me. Then you picked me up and carried me to the car.”
“Huh?” He didn’t remember much about that night, except that they ran. It wasn’t the only time that happened during his many sojourns, but he’d never helped anyone. He shook his head. “Picked you up? I don’t think so. I ran so fast, I was the first one back to the car.”
She blinked and he could see confusion. “Then who picked me up?”
He couldn’t help but smile. “Maybe the ghost of Marco Gonzales. I remember we found you sitting on a rock by the car.
She slapped at his arm and muttered a swear word. “You can
be such a jerk.”
“Maybe that’s why he’s haunting your dreams. He wants payback. Or perhaps he locked you in because he doesn’t want you doing the story after all.”
“Stop being funny. And don’t tell me I’m an excitable female, Tafoya. I’ve been in tricky situations before. I don’t panic.”
“Well, maybe you should.”
She shot him a glare so sharp it would have wounded him if it had been a material object. They walked back to her car. Cere started to toss in her clothes but stopped. “Oh, no, look at that.”
“What?” He followed the direction of her pointing finger.
Her front tire was flat.
“Do you still doubt me?” she asked. “Someone locked me in that room and flattened my tire.”
“I doubt that. This car wasn’t meant for off road driving. You probably hit a rock or an old nail or something.” The situation was beginning to perturb Rafe, but maybe this would teach her a lesson. The open prairie was no place for her rental sedan. “I’ll change it for you.”
He almost expected her to tell him she could do it herself. Instead she opened the trunk and stepped back.
“Damn rental company,” she said with a grimace. “There isn’t a spare in there.”
He looked into the empty well. “I doubt someone did that to you.”
She let fly a curse that surprised him.
Rafe smiled. She was moving up in his estimation. Not that he enjoyed women who cussed. It just made her less prissy.
“Hell!” She pushed hair from her face, twisting it at the nape of her neck. “Is there a towing service I can call?”
“They’ll be closed. Why don’t I drive you home and we’ll get a tow truck to come out in the morning?”
She hesitated, her hand on the door. “I’d rather not leave the car here, even if it is a rental.”
“The car will be safe. I doubt anyone will be out this way tonight.”
“Except whoever flattened the tire,” she argued. “I have insurance, but I don’t want the car damaged or stolen.”
Rafe was growing weary of arguing. “You’re not in the city. It will be fine. And don’t worry about insurance. The rental company is responsible since they didn’t provide a spare.”
“I don’t know…”
Her face was set, and he could read her reluctance, but he was losing patience. He needed to get home to Ginny. “If you won’t leave it, you can spend the night inside. I’ll send a tow truck in the morning.”
Despite her earlier show of bravado, he didn’t think Cere would opt to stay alone near the abandoned dance hall.
She tugged at her lower lip and then sighed heavily. “Oh, all right, let’s go back to town.”
Rafe stepped over to check the tire before leaving. Maybe it wasn’t as critical as she thought. He stared at it and leaned closer. His stomach rolled over. A long clean slash was cut along one side of the tire. She could not have driven far if a rock had caused the damage and the cut would be jagged. This had been done by a knife blade or box cutter.
No doubt about it. Someone had cut Cere’s tire.
Chapter Eighteen
“You know that was stupid, don’t you?” Rafe asked as he drove back toward town. “You didn’t find what you were looking for.”
“How do you know?”
Rafe met her eyes and grunted. Intense curiosity burned in her beautiful eyes, and he dropped his gaze. It fell to the crossed bare legs visible in the dim glow of the dashboard lights. A hot river of desire flooded his veins, like lava unleashed. This was something he didn’t need—physical attraction to a snobbish spitfire.
“I looked around. The hand print is in the room on the other side of where you were. Tell me what you thought you heard.”
“Someone was in there,” she insisted. “Maybe they followed me.”
“Were there any cars on the road behind you? Did you look?”
“There weren’t any cars. I checked my mirror before I made the turn off.”
“The wind probably blew the door shut.”
His gaze flickered to her legs, and she smoothed the shirt over them as though she noticed the direction of his glance.
“I’m sorry you had to come out here. Where is your daughter?”
“Your mother stayed with her.”
She sighed and shook her head. “I don’t understand why Mom was looking for me. I thought she was on a date.”
“With Bradley Foster?” he asked.
“How did you know?”
“Everyone knows everything in this town. You’ll find that out quickly enough.”
“I won’t be here that long. I just want to get my story and get out.”
A spark of irritation grated at him. “That damn story is going to get you in more trouble than just getting locked in a dark room.”
Instead of frightening her, the comment seemed to spur interest. “What do you mean by that, Tafoya? Is there something you’re not telling me? Did you or your family know Marco?”
“He died long before I was born and by now you should know no one wants to talk about him.”
“What about his relatives? Are they all gone?”
He drew a deep breath. No sense lying; she’d find out the truth on her own. “He has a few cousins still in town.”
She sat forward, a tense nervousness driving her to tap her fingers on the window rest. Her voice took on extra vigor. “So if I call every Gonzales in the phone book, I should run across his relatives?”
“Probably.”
“Why don’t you save me time and give me names?”
“Uh, uh, I know how media people work. You’ll call and say, ‘Sheriff Tafoya told me you’re related to Marco and might talk to me.’ Isn’t that how it goes? You can make all the calls you want, but they won’t talk. They were unhappy about the newspaper story.”
She sat back, but he could feel the intense energy emanating from her. Something was on her mind. “Do you really think I’m callous?”
Rafe had regretted being so perturbed, though her comment had been a harsh wake up call for who she really was. “Perhaps I overreacted, but Naldo was more than a murder statistic to me. I’d known him since I was a boy. He didn’t deserve to be murdered. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“Someone killed him, and someone might have killed Marco.”
“Don’t try to tie the two together!”
What if she found out there was a connection between Marco and old Naldo? He didn’t like thinking about that himself.
She turned wide eyes to him, and he realized he had made another mistake. She’d caught the undertone in his angry proclamation. “Look, Cere, why don’t you drop this and enjoy visiting your mother?”
“Talk about culture shock. Seeing her in this town, with that man...” She shook her head, and Rafe perceived an opportunity to turn the conversation in a new direction.
“You don’t like our mayor? He’s such a sweet old guy.”
“It’s not that I dislike him. I want her to have a new life, be happy. Somehow it seems disloyal to my dad.”
Disloyal? A quick vision of Carmen appeared in his brain. Was he being disloyal by looking at Cere?
The lights of the city grew closer and they fell into silence. Cere tried to relax, but her moments in the Palladium kept coming back to her. She had heard a noise. Not the ghost of Marco. She started to thank Rafe again and stopped. His large presence filled the interior of the Jeep. She smoothed down his shirt. The light scent of shaving lotion rose from it, sending butterflies through her stomach. It had been a while since she’d worn a man’s shirt.
She glanced at his implacable face. His finding her had been a godsend, and she could imagine what he thought about her sojourn. Still she wasn’t going to give up her enterprise. She would have her mother drive her to get the car in the morning and have a look at the hand print.
Rafe pulled into a garage on the edge of town. The lights were out, but when he honked, a side door flew open. A rot
und man in a greasy T-shirt approached them. Cere recognized him as one of the men at the counter the previous day, but she hadn’t heard his name. He had turned his back to her, concentrating on his tamales.
“What’s up, Tafoya?” he asked, looking from Rafe to Cere.
“Hey, Len. The lady here is gonna need a tow from the Palladium.”
“Garage is closed. I can get it for you in the morning.”
“That’s what we figured. She’s gonna need a new tire too.”
Rafe opened his door and stepped outside, guiding the man away from his open window. Their voices carried back to her, but she couldn’t make out the words. When Rafe opened the door to slide inside, she blinked at the bright light from the overhead bulb.
Her gaze fell on the finely honed muscles of Rafe’s arms and shoulders. She had been too distracted to notice before, but now she noted the white undershirt against tanned muscular skin. Its tightness emphasized powerful shoulders and a wide chest with a fine matte of black hair. He must work out. Too quickly he shut the door and the car plunged into darkness.
“Len says he knows you,” Rafe said as he settled into his seat.
“I met him at the restaurant,” she admitted.
“Did you tell him about doing the Marco Gonzales story?”
“I mentioned it to the guys at the counter, but I told you, no one would talk to me.”
He drew a sharp breath. “They may not have talked to you, but that doesn’t mean everyone isn’t talking about your project.”
“What did he say?” Cere thought of the message on her phone and the paper stuck to her car. Her hour at the café seemed to have drawn a lot of attention.
A sharp rap on the window stopped Rafe from answering. He lowered the window, and Len shoved a piece of paper at him.
“Here’s a receipt. We’ll pick it up in the morning if you give me the keys.”
Cere pulled her keys from her purse and handed them to him. “Thank you.”
His eyes stayed on her, dark angry circles that bored into her. “If I was you, lady, I’d stay away from that Palladium. Next time you might not be so lucky to have the sheriff rescue you.”
He pulled back before Cere could respond. She was aware of his hulking figure watching as Rafe eased out of the driveway.
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