Warrior Son

by Rita Herron

  * * *

  MEGAN REPLAYED THE past few hours in her head as the crime team processed the lab. She gathered samples of the hair on the bodies in the morgue, but judging from texture, color and length, none of them were a match.

  Maybe her attacker had left a strand of his hair. Hair held DNA.

  Whether the person it belonged to would be in the system was the question. If not they’d have to find a suspect to compare it to.

  “Who else has been in the morgue and your office?” Roan asked.

  Megan massaged her temple with two fingers. “Me. Dr. Cumberland. Howard, my lab analyst. There are a couple of other techs and the chief ME, although he doesn’t come in regularly anymore.”

  “We need all their names and DNA samples,” Roan said.

  “I’ll make a list. Their DNA should be on file.”

  “Right. Can you think of anyone else? A family member or friend who came in to make an identification?”

  Megan searched her memory banks. “The wife of a car accident victim, but she was in her seventies with gray hair.”

  Roan claimed the seat across from her. “Megan, did you talk to anyone else about Joe McCullen’s autopsy?”

  She shook her head no. “Just Dr. Cumberland. He was so distraught he left the office. And of course Howard, the tech who ran the tests, knew.”

  “You trust him to be discreet?”

  “Yes. Explicitly. Besides, he didn’t even know the McCullens. Why would he want to hurt any of them?”

  “He may not have. But he could have talked to the wrong person without realizing it.”

  “I know Howard, Roan. I’m telling you he would never discuss a case outside the office. That is, unless it was with me.”

  Roan seemed to consider her statement. “You said Dr. Cumberland was distraught?”

  “Yes. His wife called me, upset. She said she’d never seen her husband so emotional.” Megan hesitated, still disturbed by the conversation with the woman. “I think she was afraid I was going to try to ruin Dr. Cumberland’s reputation by exposing that he’d made a mistake. He’s supposed to retire this year.”

  “But you didn’t mention doing that?”

  “Of course not. I’m sure he didn’t realize what was happening to Joe. He loved Joe and his sons. He cried like a baby at Joe’s funeral.”

  “Have you had trouble with anyone else lately?”

  Megan thought back to the man at the bar and relayed what had happened. “But he has nothing to do with Joe McCullen.”

  “True. But he could have shot at you in the street.”

  Megan shivered. “Or the person who fired that shot could have been trying to scare me, and it could be the same man who attacked me.”

  Roan squeezed her hand. “We will get to the bottom of this, Megan. Meanwhile don’t discuss this case with anyone. I haven’t told Maddox or his brothers yet. They deserve to know first.”

  “I agree. And, Roan, I would never discuss medical findings with anyone not involved or authorized in the case. I took an oath.”

  “I’m not questioning you,” Roan said in a husky voice that touched something deep inside her. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt. Obviously our investigation is making someone nervous.”

  The crime team finished and Lieutenant Hoberman told Roan he’d call him with the results of his findings. Megan stood, anxious to leave.

  “Thanks for coming, Roan. I appreciate all you did.”

  He rubbed her arm, his dark eyes intense. “I’ll follow you home, Megan.”

  Relief filled her. She didn’t want to act like a simpering female, but flashbacks of nearly suffocating taunted her. “Thanks.”

  He nodded and she locked up, then they walked to her car. “I’m right behind you,” Roan said. “When you get to your house, don’t go inside. I want to search it first.”

  The idea that someone might be waiting for her at home sent another streak of terror through Megan.

  She didn’t want to be alone tonight. But how could she ask Roan to stay without making him think that she wanted to be with him again?

  You do want to be with him.

  Yes, she did. But she’d been raised to be tough and strong. After all, she didn’t have her looks to fall back on. She’d have to remember that when Roan was at her house.

  Although, as she closed her door and started the engine, she could still feel that man’s breath on her neck. His hands nearly choking her.

  She could hear the sound of the zipper rasping as he closed her inside that body bag. She could feel darkness choking her when she’d awakened, locked in that drawer...

  His menacing warning reverberated in her ears. Had she heard that voice before?

  Chapter Ten

  Tension thrummed inside Roan as he followed Megan back to her house. He kept his eyes peeled in case someone was following her, but the truck that fell in behind her as she turned through town eventually veered into the parking lot for The Silver Bullet.

  He replayed the scene Megan had described in his head a half-dozen times, his anger mounting. If whoever had attacked her saw her with him, would he assume she’d talked? Would he come after her again?

  Hell, he was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t. Because there was no way he’d leave her alone now.

  This son of a bitch wouldn’t get away with terrorizing her. And if he’d killed Joe—his father—he had to go to jail.

  He had to tell Maddox—soon.

  Speaking of Maddox, his phone buzzed and the man’s name appeared. Had he heard what had happened?

  “Deputy Whitefeather.”

  “It’s Maddox.”

  “Did you get Romley?”

  “No, he escaped. But I’m on his trail now. He hooked up with a woman named Darcy at a bar. She said he told her he’s headed west. I’ll keep you posted. Anything going on there?”

  Roan hated to lie to his boss. But how could he tell Maddox he was his half brother and that their father had been murdered on the phone? That was a conversation to be had in person.

  “I’m taking care of things,” he said instead.

  Maddox thanked him. “Hopefully I’ll have Romley in custody by tomorrow and be able to head home.”

  Twenty-four hours. He needed every second.

  Maddox disconnected, and Roan turned into Megan’s driveway and parked behind her. The rain had stopped, but the dark clouds still shaded the moon, pitching her yard and house into darkness.

  He scanned the perimeter and pulled out his weapon as he climbed from his car. Megan opened her door and slid out. Her face still looked pale, her face gaunt.

  “Stay here until I search the house.”

  She touched his arm. “Be careful, Roan.”

  He shrugged off her concern. “Just doing my job.” Except protecting Megan felt more personal. That one night they’d shared had made it that way.

  An animal howled from the woods behind her house, and somewhere nearby a dog barked. She handed him the keys, and he gripped them in his free hand, his other hand tightening around his gun.

  The steps creaked as he eased up them. He paused to listen at the door before he opened it. Everything seemed quiet.

  Although he doubted Megan’s attacker would strike twice in the same night, someone could be lurking inside.

  He eased open the door, pausing again, but the entryway was quiet and so was the rest of the house. He used his pocket flashlight to illuminate the area, then inched into the den, then the attached kitchen. Everything appeared in order.

  He eased into the hall and checked the bedrooms. Once again quiet. Nothing out of place.

  Relieved, he hurried back through the house to tell Megan. He motioned that it was okay for her to come in, then waited as she climbed the steps.

  “The house is clean,” Roan said.

  “I’m going to take a shower,” Megan said. “Thanks for following me home.”

  He cleared his throat, hating the fear lingering in her voice. “I’m s
taying here, Megan. Just in case.”

  Her gaze met his, relief, then some other emotion he couldn’t quite define, flickering in her eyes.

  He couldn’t erase what had happened to her earlier. But he could protect her tonight.

  * * *

  MEGAN BREATHED A sigh of relief that Roan had insisted on staying with her. She detested showing fear or appearing weak, but she also was no martyr. Realistically the man who’d threatened her could be watching her. If he saw Roan, would he assume she’d told him everything? That she wouldn’t give up her questions as he’d demanded?

  “If you’re hungry, there’s some homemade soup in the fridge.”

  Roan raised a brow. “You cook?”

  Megan shrugged. “I had to. My mom was too busy with my sister and her beauty pageants to do it.”

  She realized she sounded bitter and hadn’t meant to.

  “I’m sorry, that didn’t come out right.” She’d told Roan about her sister’s murder the night his mother died. Another way they’d bonded. “I loved Shelly.”

  “I know you did,” he said in a gruff tone. “But it sounds like you were the caretaker in the family.”

  Megan shrugged again. “Obviously I didn’t do a very good job or my sister would still be alive.”

  “Don’t do that,” Roan said, his voice harder. “Your sister’s death wasn’t your fault.”

  Emotions welled in her throat, threatening to send her into another sobbing fit. Determined not to fall apart, she turned away and headed toward the bedroom. “I’ll heat up the soup after I shower.”

  She didn’t bother to wait for a response. She shut the bedroom door and sagged against it.

  But the smell of the morgue and her own fear was wearing on her. She felt vulnerable and weak, like she might throw herself at Roan if she didn’t put some distance between them.

  Her phone buzzed as she dropped her purse on the chair in the corner. She checked the caller ID—her father.

  He probably just wanted to try to convince her to leave the ME’s office again like he had the last time they’d spoken. But she’d been adamant that she liked her job, and she didn’t intend to follow the career path he’d mapped out for her.

  Worse, if he knew her job had endangered her life, he would insist she leave it.

  No matter what she did, she couldn’t please him.

  She let her voice mail pick up and stripped her clothes, anxious to get rid of the sweat-soaked garments. The warm spray of water felt heavenly, but when she closed her eyes to rinse her hair, a chilling fear shot through her.

  Thank God Roan had come looking for her tonight, that he hadn’t waited until morning.

  She soaped and scrubbed her body and hair, desperate to cleanse herself of the stench of her attacker’s hands and the smell of the body bag. His voice reverberated in her ears again, and she shook herself, determined to block out the sound.

  Finally the water turned cold, and she dried off and pulled on a pair of jeans and a loose long-sleeved T-shirt. She towel-dried her hair, then combed it and left it to dry on its own. She didn’t care tonight if it was an unruly mass of curls.

  By the time she entered the kitchen, the smell of coffee and the vegetable soup wafted toward her. The warm homey smells helped her relax.

  “I hope it was okay that I went ahead and heated up the soup.”

  “It’s great. Thank you, Roan.”

  Roan gestured to the table and she sank into a chair. His dark gaze met hers, something hot and sensual simmering between them. He looked so big and handsome in her kitchen that for a moment, she imagined waking up to him every day.

  “Megan, I know you’ve been through a lot tonight, but can you tell me anything else about the man who attacked you? Did his voice sound familiar? Did he have a certain smell? Cigarettes maybe?”

  The sexual tension she’d felt humming between them had all been in her mind. Roan was here to do a job.

  He would protect her, but she couldn’t give him her heart. Men didn’t want boring plain Janes like her. They wanted beautiful, flirty, fun women, and that was something she would never be.

  * * *

  ROAN FORCED HIMSELF to keep his mind on the case as he and Megan ate dinner.

  Her silence concerned him.

  Was she reliving the nightmare of what had happened?

  Her phone buzzed again, and she glanced at it, then flipped it to silent.

  “You aren’t going to answer?”

  She shook her head. “It’s my father.”

  Roan sipped his coffee. “Why don’t you want to talk to him?”

  Megan sighed and set her spoon down. “Because he’ll want to know what I’m doing and if I tell him, he’ll use it as an excuse to lecture me again on why I should leave the ME’s office. He thinks it’s a waste of my talent to work on dead people when I could be saving lives.”

  Roan frowned. “He should be proud of you. You’re intelligent, you help families find closure by giving them details about how their loved ones died.” His throat grew thick. “And you’re compassionate to both the dead and the living.”

  “That’s exactly how I feel about the families,” Megan said softly. “I wish my father could understand that.”

  “Maybe one day he will.”

  She shrugged as if she doubted it, then ran a hand through the damp strands of her hair. They hung loosely around her shoulders, making her look young and impossibly sexy.

  Dammit, he wanted to run his hands through the luscious strands.

  “So your father is a doctor?”

  She nodded. “A neurosurgeon.”

  If he was unimpressed with Megan’s work, he sure as hell would look down on a half-breed deputy sheriff. After all, what did he have to offer a beautiful, smart woman like Megan?

  “Let me guess, he wanted you to follow in his footsteps,” he said instead.

  Megan looked down at her fingers and nodded. “When my sister died, it tore his heart open,” she said softly. “Shelly was so pretty and full of life. He used to light up when she walked into the room. She had him wrapped around her little finger just like my mother did.”

  “I’m sure he loved you, too.”

  A sardonic laugh escaped her. “Standing beside Shelly was like putting a cactus next to a sunflower.”

  Roan didn’t like the comparison. “He favored your sister?”

  “I couldn’t blame him,” she said with not even a hint of bitterness. “She was so full of life...her outgoing personality drew everyone to her.” The sadness in her expression made his gut churn.

  “You would have liked her, Roan. Everyone liked Shelly.”

  “I like you,” he said bluntly. “Stop cutting yourself down and comparing yourself to her, Megan.”

  Megan’s lips parted. “I can’t help it. My father—”

  “Your father should have appreciated you.” He couldn’t help himself. He reached across the table and captured her hand in his. Her skin felt cold, her fingers tense in his.

  “You are not a cactus,” he said in a husky tone.

  As Megan stared at their joined hands, tears filled her eyes. “Roan, that’s nice of you to say—”

  “Shut up.” He shoved his chair back and stood, then circled the table and pulled her against him. “I’m not the kind of man who doles out compliments just to do so,” he said. “When I say something, I mean it.” He cupped her face between his hands. “You are not a cactus.”

  A slow smile curved her mouth. Damn, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. And the most humble.

  Unable to resist the heat simmering between them, he angled his head and slowly lowered his mouth to hers.

  It was a mistake.

  It was heaven in a kiss.

  He told himself to stop. But he didn’t listen.

  He’d wanted to kiss her again ever since she’d walked back into his life. He’d never forgotten how sweet and erotic she tasted. How her shy touches made him feel strong and virile.
/>   How her silent surrender made him ache for more.

  * * *

  MEGAN SANK INTO the kiss. Roan’s lips felt strong and persuasive, offering her pleasure and a reprieve from everything that had happened.

  Still shaky from her ordeal, she gripped his arms to keep herself steady, her heart pounding as he rubbed slow circles on her back. His big hard body felt like an anchor against the tirade of emotions overwhelming her, and she savored his calm, tender kiss.

  Tender but erotic.

  He teased her lips apart with his tongue, and she parted them on a sigh, need and hunger spiraling through her. She slid her hand up his back, urging him closer, desperate to feel the hard planes of his body against her aching one.

  He deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring, his chest rising and falling with a labored breath. Desire heated the air between them as he finally ended the kiss, but he didn’t pull away. Instead he trailed kisses along her jaw and neck, nibbling at her ear, then lower to the soft swell of her breasts. She arched her head back on a moan and wished she’d dressed in something sexier after her shower, something easy to strip, like her robe.

  She wanted him naked and inside her.

  He made a low, throaty sound of appreciation, then slipped one hand over her breast and stroked her. Her nipple beaded, begging for more, and he slid his hand beneath her shirt and cupped her through the lacy barrier of her bra.

  One stroke, two, he thumbed one nipple then the other, until warmth pooled in her belly. She ran her hands down his back to his butt and cupped his hips, pleasure stealing through her as he thrust his sex against her heat.

  A second later, he reached for her shirt to strip it, but his phone trilled, cutting into the moment.

  “Ignore it,” she whispered.

  For a brief second he did. He kissed her again, more urgently this time, the air charged with their breathing. But it continued to trill, and he gave her an apologetic look, then pulled away.

  Megan wrapped her arms around herself, trembling with desire as he snatched the phone from the table.

  * * *

  ROAN WANTED TO pound something in frustration. He wanted to kiss Megan. Take her to bed. Make love to her.