Seconds later, she was lying on her back in the bed, her lips pressed to his, their mouths open, and a hand running through his thick hair. When she felt Boone’s fingers on the bare skin of her calf, slowly rising first to her knee and then to the back of her thigh, Lily gasped, shuddering with the pleasure of his touch. Quickly, she started to consider that this night would have no restrictions, that this man had captivated her enough for her to want to give herself to him. Lily marveled at how strange and unexpected life could be. Only days before, she’d intended to go with Jane to New York City. But now here she was, a man from the city come to her. It was like a dream.
Unfortunately for Lily, all dreams, both good and bad, come to an end.
And that’s what happened when someone tried to open the door.
Chapter Eighteen
BOONE WAS IN HEAVEN.
Kissing Lily, touching her bare skin, feeling her hand run through his hair, was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. The whole day had been that way, really. Walking with her through the festival, sharing lunch in the grass, and watching her smile as she introduced him to people: it all made it hard for him to concentrate on his work. And now look where they were.
As excited as Boone was, he knew that he had to be careful. He didn’t want to pressure Lily into doing something she wasn’t ready for. Sure, she’d told him that she was willing to go farther, to lie down with him in the bed, but it was obvious to him that she was innocent. The last thing Boone wanted was to push too far, too fast, and give Lily a reason to regret what they were doing. But that was easier said than done. Each kiss made him yearn for more, and it was a struggle to hold himself back.
And that was when he heard someone at the door.
Boone froze. Where moments before his heart had been racing from kissing Lily, it now came to an abrupt stop. For a second, he wondered if he’d imagined the noise, but then it came again, not loud but clear enough.
“Did you hear—” Lily began beneath him but he put a finger to her lips.
“Shhh,” he further silenced her, straining to listen.
There came another sound from the other side of the door.
His first thought was that it was the two bastards who had robbed and beaten them only yesterday. Maybe they hadn’t gotten what they’d been after or felt that no one would expect them to hit the same place two nights in a row. Either way, if they’d been casing the place and saw it quiet and dark for hours, they would’ve assumed that no one was there.
If so, they were in for a shock.
“Whatever happens, run away as fast as you can, then call the police,” Boone whispered as he started to get off the bed, but Lily held him tight.
“Don’t!” she implored him. “What if it’s the same men from last—”
“I’ll be all right,” he interrupted, knowing that there wasn’t time to discuss the matter. “Do you trust me?” he asked.
Lily nodded in the darkness.
“Then be ready to move,” he told her.
Boone slipped off the bed and moved toward the door, his eyes never leaving it, expecting it to open at any moment. He braced himself against the frame, the knob at his hip; when it swung open, he’d be right on top of whoever stood outside. More sounds came from the other side, as if something had been stuck in the lock in an attempt to jimmy it. Boone considered using the darkness inside the room to his advantage but quickly changed his mind. The greater element of surprise lay in meeting the intruders head-on. Taking a deep breath, he put his hand on the knob and then whipped open the door.
The figure standing just outside emitted a gasp of surprise. Boone grabbed a fistful of shirt and yanked the person toward him, knocking them off their feet. Together, they tumbled to the ground in a heap, Boone in control, straddling the unwanted visitor’s chest, his fist cocked and ready to strike.
“Wait!” a man’s voice screeched. “It’s me! It’s me!”
In the faint moonlight shining over his shoulder, Boone got enough of a look at the man to suspect he knew who was wriggling beneath him, the prominent Adam’s apple being the most obvious clue. When Lily turned on a lamp, the sudden light glaringly bright, his hunch was confirmed. It was Clive.
“What in the hell are you doing?” Boone demanded. “I just about knocked your head off your shoulders!”
“I…I was just coming home from the fair…” the writer explained, his voice panicked. “Everything was dark and I couldn’t see the lock and then my key stuck and then—”
“All right, that’s enough,” Boone said, trying to stem the rush of words, but Clive wasn’t going to be deterred.
“I didn’t think anyone was here! How was I supposed to know that you were inside with the lights off and…” Clive’s words trailed off as he looked around the room and found Lily sitting on the edge of Boone’s bed. No matter how naive he might have been, the writer was still smart enough to put two and two together and come up with four. “Oh no. I…I didn’t realize that…” he blabbered. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know that…that you were…”
“It’s all right, Clive,” Lily told him with an easy smile. “You couldn’t have known.”
“If I had, I never would’ve opened that door, I promise!”
“We know that,” she told him.
Boone got up off Clive, then helped the writer to his feet. By now, the younger man’s cheeks had turned beet red with embarrassment.
“Why…why don’t I go out for a while longer?” he asked as he stepped toward the door, trying to make up for his inadvertent mistake, but Boone put a hand to his chest, stopping him in his tracks.
“Stay,” he said. It was already too late, the romantic mood between him and Lily ruined, at least as far as the rest of the night was concerned. Glancing at her and seeing her nod, Boone knew that he was right.
Clive walked around the room, unsure of what to do with himself, then drifted into the darkroom as if he was trying to hide.
“I’m sorry,” Boone apologized to Lily once he thought Clive was out of earshot. “This isn’t how I wanted our night to go.”
“It’s all right. Really,” she said, further reassuring him by planting a soft kiss on his cheek. “There will be other chances for us to be alone.”
He could only hope that she was right.
In a couple of days’ time, Boone was supposed to leave for New York City, then off to all the other far-flung places his job would take him. While Lily had given an indication that she was considering coming along, the details had been few and far between. Was she being serious? Would she leave her hometown, the only place she’d ever known, in order to be with him? Boone really wanted to ask, but understood that now was not the time.
Just then, Clive wandered out of the darkroom as if in a trance, unsteady on his feet, his mouth hanging open like a door with a broken hinge. He held a photograph in his hand.
“Did you…did you take this today…?” he asked.
Because of the way Clive was holding the picture, Boone couldn’t get a good look at it. “Yeah. Lily took me around town so I could replace those that were stolen, remember?” he answered. “Why? Is something wrong?”
Clive turned the photograph so Boone could see it. His assumption had been wrong. It wasn’t a shot he’d taken today. It was the picture of Lily from the day they’d met.
“What about it?” Boone asked.
“I know him,” Clive replied, pointing at the man sharing the picture. “He was one of the men who broke in last night. He’s one of the robbers.”
“You’re joking,” Boone said, finding none of this funny.
“It’s him.”
“He’s the guy who hit you?”
The writer shook his head. “I don’t know if it was him or if he was the one Daisy chased out of the room.”
“I thought you said you were sure?”
“I am!” Clive insisted. “It’s just that everything happened so fast that I maybe have them mixed up in my head. But this one,�
� he said, jabbing a finger at the photograph, “was here! Neither of them was wearing a mask.”
“Mike,” Lily suddenly blurted, causing both men to look at her. “His name is Mike Detmer, or at least that’s the one he gave. I couldn’t remember it before, but it just came back to me.”
“You’ve met him, too?” Clive asked.
“I…bumped into him a couple of days ago…” she answered with a frown.
“We have to go to the police.”
“Tell them what we know,” Lily agreed.
Boone frowned. They were right, but he couldn’t help but remember how unhelpful Garrett had been the night before. Still, even the possibility of getting his hands on the bastard who’d robbed and beaten them was more than enough incentive.
“All right,” he said, plucking the picture from Clive’s hand. “Let’s go.”
“…and once we’re through the door—”
“We make sure all the blinds are drawn,” Randall finished, his words heavy with boredom.
Ever since they’d returned to the cabin after hitting the Life magazine reporters’ room, Leo had droned on and on about the coming bank robbery. He’d mocked up a rough model of the bank using ridiculous props like twigs, stones, bottle caps, and even a pepper shaker to mark the safe. Over and over, he talked through every step, periodically asking questions to see if his partner had been paying attention, until Randall was so sick of it he wanted to puke.
“And then what do you do?” Leo asked.
“Me and my tools head for the safe,” Randall answered, then yawned.
What the hell else would I do, asshole?
But as much as he’d hoped that Leo would take the hint and shut up, he was to be disappointed. “What about me?”
Randall shrugged. “What do you mean, ‘what about me’?”
“While you’re crackin’ the safe, where will I be? What will I be doin’?”
“Enough already, man. We’ve been over this crap a hundred times,” he answered with very little in the way of exaggeration. “I feel like I could do this in my sleep.”
“That’s the point,” Leo answered. “If we cover every detail, every eventuality, then we’ll be prepared to do the job. This way, nothin’ can go wrong.”
Randall wanted to call bullshit on that. Life was full of unexpected occurrences. His tools could break while he was trying to open the safe. One of the bank’s higher-ups might have forgotten something and come back to retrieve it, surprising them just the way that scrawny peckerwood had the night before. Hell, they could get in a car accident on the way to town, run over by some hick farmer who’d done too much Halloween celebrating. And none of these things could be prepared for no matter how many times you looked at some crappy model. But Randall couldn’t tell Leo that. The stubborn son of a bitch wouldn’t listen.
“I gotta stretch my legs,” he said, wincing as he got up from his chair. He still hurt from where that damn dog had bit him. Since he couldn’t go to a doctor, he’d done the best he could with alcohol and bandages.
“You try your costume on yet?” Leo asked before Randall reached the door.
“Nope,” he mumbled, pulling a pack of smokes from his pocket.
“Better get on it. We gotta make sure it’s not too long or you’ll be trippin’ on the sheet.”
Leo’s big plan to get them to the bank unnoticed was to wear Halloween costumes in order to blend in with the crowd. The older thief would be disguised as a cowboy, while Randall would go as a ghost so that he could better hide his bag of tools. According to Leo, no one would pay them any mind as they moseyed out of the bank, bags stuffed with cash.
But right then and there, Randall didn’t give a damn about costumes or pepper shakers that were supposed to be safes.
He wanted to be alone.
Outside, the night was colder than he’d expected, though there was no way in hell he was going back inside for a jacket. The wind gusted, requiring three matches to light his cigarette; when he finally managed to get it lit, Randall inhaled deeply, then blew a plume of smoke toward the sky. All the while, he kept telling himself that his share of the stolen money would be worth putting up with Leo and his crap. Somewhere, there were dice and cards waiting for him.
When he was on his second cigarette, Randall pulled a picture from his pocket, the image of Lily he’d stolen from the photographer. Though the night was dark as coal, he stared at the shot in the faint glow of his cigarette. Randall had folded over the edge of the photo, removing himself from view; he didn’t want to look at anyone but her, and that included his own mug. He drank in her long hair, pretty smile, and expressive eyes. He wanted to be alone with her, preferably in a hotel room where he could tear off her clothes, ravish her, to hear her voice screaming his name in pleasure. Randall knew he was fantasizing, that he would likely never see Lily again, but he didn’t see any harm in it. Besides, who knew? Maybe she’d be at the Halloween festivities.
After another couple of drags, Randall got tired of freezing his ass off and stomped out the cigarette; with as dry as things were this time of year, if he flicked a smoldering butt into the bushes, he could start a fire. When he went back inside, Leo was still poring over his model, studying it like there was going to be a test.
“You better?” the older thief asked.
Randall grunted in answer.
“Good enough. Now get over here. We still got work to do.”
Feeling a sudden urge to needle his partner, Randall answered, “Give me a second.” He walked over and propped up Lily’s photo on his bedside table, then stepped back to admire her. “Quite a looker, ain’t she?”
“What the hell is that?” Leo asked with a scowl.
“What’re you talkin’ about?” Randall answered, a little confused. “That there’s the reason we broke into those fellas’ room last night.”
“I know that, moron,” he snapped. “What I’m askin’ is why is it still here?”
When the two thieves had returned to the cabin with the spoils of their robbery, they’d burned everything, the pictures, the negatives, and even the camera bag; they were now nothing more than a pile of ashes at the bottom of their wood-burning stove. No evidence meant no crime.
“I couldn’t bear to part with that one,” Randall explained.
“’Cause you’re stupid sweet on that girl.”
“Her name’s Lily,” he said, his tone more defensive than he’d intended.
“Stop that shit. It ain’t like the two of you are on a first-name basis.”
Randall wanted to point out that they were, but with as bent out of shape as his partner seemed, it’d be pouring gas on a raging fire.
“Take it down,” Leo ordered.
“I think I wanna keep it where it is,” he disagreed.
“If you won’t do it, then I will,” the older man said, and got out of his chair. But before he could reach the photograph, Randall stepped in front of him. Somewhere deep down, he knew that he was being stupid and petty, that this was one of those ridiculous arguments that ended up with someone getting hurt, but Randall couldn’t bring himself to back down. So far, he’d gone along with Leo’s plans without much complaint, but this time he wasn’t willing to give in.
To him, this was worth fighting for.
“Move aside,” Leo told him with steel in his voice.
Randall shook his head. “There ain’t no harm in my keepin’ that picture,” he said. “It don’t change things one way or another.”
“Someone could find it.”
“No one will.”
Leo pointed at the picture. “You leave that behind, whether here or the next place down the road, the cops might be able to draw a connection between us robbin’ that bank and you.”
“Trust me,” Randall said, feeling confident, even a little cocky. “Nobody is gonna link us to that girl, to our breakin’ into that room or hittin’ the bank.” He grinned. “I promise you that.”
Chapter Nineteen
; THERE ISN’T MUCH I can do with this.”
Lily frowned as Garrett tossed the photograph of her and the man who had broken into Boone and Clive’s room onto his desk. The three of them had walked to the police station and had found Garrett just as he was about to go out on patrol. He’d listened to their story, each of them talking over the others as they added their own piece to the puzzle, and had asked a few questions. Now he seemed to be saying that there was little chance of the thief being brought to justice.
“Why not?” Boone asked, sounding annoyed.
“Like I told you before, this isn’t the big city,” Garrett answered. “I can’t check our files of criminals or ask among the detectives to see if anyone knows this guy. It doesn’t work that way. Not here.”
As she looked around the Hooper’s Crossing police station, Lily thought he might be right. There were few other officers around, a couple at the coffee machine, laughing at a joke. Two out-of-towners were loudly snoring in the tiny jail cell at the back, sleeping off too much drink and the trouble it had caused. Occasional bits of static came over the radio, but no one was calling for backup or declaring an emergency. The fall festival might be the busiest time of year around these parts, but that wasn’t saying much.
“Then how does it work?” Boone demanded. “Those bozos rob us, knock the stuffing out of Clive, kick my dog, and get off scot-free?”
“We’re doing what we can.”
“I just bet.”
“I know how to do my job,” Garret said, his own temper rising, staring daggers at the photographer perched on the corner of his desk.
“Doesn’t look like it from where I’m sitting.”
“Stop it. The both of you,” Lily told them, wanting things to be civil and wondering why she seemed to be the only one concerned with keeping it that way.
Ever since they’d arrived, Garrett had been acting strangely. Though he had smiled when he first saw her, that good cheer had disappeared as soon as he’d realized she hadn’t come alone. Garrett was indifferent to Clive, but with Boone his dislike was obvious, bordering on confrontational. He cut the other man off midsentence, dismissed his concerns, and often turned in his seat, acting as if Boone wasn’t even there. Lily watched with dismay, unsure of what, if anything, she could do about it.
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