“We’ll be looking into it,” he hedged, as if unwilling to confirm or deny the existence of a camera. “In the meantime, I’d like you and your friend to come with us for a bit.”
“You can’t possibly think we did this,” she said.
“It’s routine. No need to worry. I’m sure your story will check out.”
Roxanne sure as hell hoped so, because she didn’t have time to waste. “Do I need to call my attorney?”
“That’s up to you, ma’am. Might not be a bad idea, though.”
That didn’t sound good at all.
Hours later, Tanner was brought into the room where they were holding Roxanne. Red marks lined his wrists where they’d handcuffed him.
He didn’t look happy about it, either.
Sheriff Bream announced, “You’re both free to go. A security camera at the bank across the street caught video of a man going into the clinic’s front door a couple of hours before you two. That same camera also verified your story about knocking on the front door right before the clinic’s closing time.”
Relief made Roxanne sag in her chair. She was exhausted, running on fumes. Hours of interrogation—as polite as it had been—had worn her down. Her worry for Jake had added to the stress until she felt stretched too thin and brittle enough to break.
Tanner moved past the uniformed female officer who had stayed in her room the whole time. Once he was at her side, she felt some of her tension ease. She wasn’t sure why that was the case, or what it was about him that caused the odd phenomenon, but she was grateful for the respite.
Sheriff Bream handed them his business card. “We’d like it if you’d stay in town tonight. We’ll put you up at the Hall’s Bed-and-Breakfast.”
“Why?” asked Tanner. “You said everything checked out.”
“It did. I would just feel better knowing you were nearby in case we had any more questions.”
Roxanne felt like she’d been wrung dry of information. While the officers were polite and professional, they’d been thorough—over and over again. “What else could you possibly want to know?”
“From what I can tell, at least four strangers have come through this town in two days. I’d like to know why.”
“I told you why we’re here. I’m looking for my friend.”
“Seems to me you’re not the only one looking for someone.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Tanner. He shifted half a step closer to Roxanne, and she couldn’t help but feel the protective vibes sliding off him in waves.
The sheriff watched her face as he spoke. “Joyce woke up to say that the man who shot her told her he had to get better fast so he could find a woman named Roxanne.”
Shock trickled through her, stunning her speechless for a moment. “Can I see a picture of the man?”
The sheriff nodded to the female officer, who pulled a page from a folder and handed it to Roxanne. It was a grainy image from the bank’s security camera showing the profile of a man in clothing too heavy for the stifling heat. He looked to be in his thirties with a receding hairline and a nose too small for his face. She didn’t recognize him.
“Do you know him?” asked the sheriff.
Roxanne shook her head. “I have no idea why he’d be looking for me. Maybe it’s another Roxanne.”
Bream lifted his bushy brows. “It’s not exactly a common name. And I don’t happen to be a big believer in coincidences. Maybe we should talk about why someone would be looking for you.”
She stared right in his eyes. “You’ve already run my license. I’m sure you’ve checked into my background. Did you see anything that would make you look for me?”
“Money. Or this man could be tied to your kidnappers—their kid, maybe.”
“Kidnappers?” asked Tanner, looking between her and the sheriff as if expecting an answer.
Roxanne wasn’t going to be the one to give it to him. The shame of that whole ordeal was not something she wanted to face tonight, when she was already feeling fragile and worried.
Fortunately, the sheriff didn’t answer his question, either. Instead, he continued on as if Tanner hadn’t spoken. “It could be about revenge. And then there’s a whole slew of things you could be hiding—things that wouldn’t show up on any background search.”
“I’m not hiding anything,” said Roxanne. “All I want to do is find Jake and bring him home.”
“We’ll do what we can to help, but there’s no record of his passing through. In the meantime, you two get some rest. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”
Roxanne opened her mouth to argue, but Tanner’s hand settled at the small of her back, jolting her silent. He looked down at her. “I think that’s a good idea. We’re both beat.”
They were escorted back to their truck and then followed an officer over to the Hall’s Bed-and-Breakfast.
It was a cute place, with plenty of southwestern flare that would appeal to tourists. The rock garden in front was lit with color-changing lights that led the way to the front door. The front porch boasted several seating areas kept cool by an overhead system of tubes spraying a fine mist of water.
Roxanne barely noticed the lobby. Her eyes were burning with fatigue, and her heart was heavy with worry. She couldn’t have cared less about the décor or the friendly man behind the counter. All she wanted was to go to her room, take off these bloody clothes, shower, and figure out a way to find Jake.
Maybe Mira would have some ideas about where to look next.
Tanner walked her to her door and waited while she unlocked it. The tarnished brass knob squeaked as it turned. So did the hinges.
She walked inside and set her small overnight bag on a chair upholstered in turquoise fabric. The furnishings were old, some even antique. The dry air had caused the floorboards to shrink, leaving gaps between the wooden slats. A small TV sat on a wall-mounted stand. Outside, a streetlight glowed bright, burning her eyes.
Roxanne drew the shades down. One of them kept sliding back up, thwarting her attempts to darken the room.
Tanner reached over her head and took the loop from her hands. He wrapped the cord around a nail that had been driven into the windowsill, presumably for that purpose.
“Thanks,” she said, her voice rough from all the talking she’d been doing. At least that was what she convinced herself was causing it. Deep down, she knew it was more. She’d been fighting back tears for the last hour as her worry for Jake grew.
Tanner took her by the shoulders and turned her around. Concern lined his face and made his blue eyes brighter. His big hands held on to her, giving her more comfort than she would have liked. “Are you okay?”
His concern for her cracked her defenses, and she pulled in a shuddering breath to keep herself from tearing up. She would not cry, not in front of Tanner.
Roxanne plastered a fake smile on her face. “I’m fine. Just tired. You don’t need to stay.”
“I’m worried about you.” He smoothed some wayward strands of hair behind her ear.
She had to resist the urge to lean into his touch, desperate for the comfort it brought. The casual way he invaded her space turned her brain to mush. She had to find a way to keep a professional distance, for both their sakes. “Don’t worry. I’m a big girl.”
A small grin lifted one side of his mouth. “Not all that big. And you were put through the wringer today.”
“So were you.”
“It’s not my friend who’s missing. I know that’s hard on you. I also know we’ll find him.”
“How?” she asked before she realized how much that lack of faith revealed about her state of mind.
“I have some ideas. Why don’t you get some sleep, and we’ll talk about it in the morning.”
“You’re stalling, aren’t you?”
He shook his head, and confidence radiated out with that single motion. “Nope. But we’re both tired. And I’m really sick of having blood on my clothes.”
Roxanne was, too. And the sooner she went to bed, t
he sooner Tanner would tell her his ideas. For now, she had hope, and that was more than she’d had when she’d walked into the room.
She wasn’t sure exactly how he’d managed to turn her worry around, but she was grateful he had.
She stepped forward, and with his hands on her shoulders, she was able to press herself against his body. She hugged him tight, pressing her cheek against his hard chest and reveling in the feel of the muscles sliding under the skin of his back.
His arms wrapped around her, returning the hug.
She didn’t let it last long. It felt too good for that, and anything that felt that good had to be wrong.
Roxanne pulled away, unable to meet his gaze. She walked to her door and opened it, giving him the unmistakable hint he should go.
He did, and the room suddenly felt empty and bleak without him.
Norma Stynger answered the call from one of her men stationed in the town of Dry Valley. Keeping an eye on the locals was important, and the best way to do that was to use someone no one would suspect—someone who’d lived there all his life.
S-eight-nine had been born there. He’d left to serve his country, and after a few years, Norma had been able to get her hands on him.
He’d come home to a parade, and Sheriff Bream had offered him a job working for the sheriff’s office whenever he wanted it. She’d ordered him to accept the position. That had been two years ago, and S-eight-nine had become an invaluable resource.
“A doctor was murdered in town today. We have video of the man who did it, and I’m certain he’s one of ours. I thought you would want to know.”
Norma stifled the momentary flutter of panic that news caused. “Is he in custody?”
“No, but we’re looking for him.”
“Were there any witnesses?”
“Besides the camera? A nurse was also shot. She could probably identify him.”
There were only a handful of subjects working in this area. Most of them did countersurveillance work, ensuring that the facility was never located by outsiders. Anyone who got too close was killed, and their body was split open and left under the sun for the animals to dispose of. It took only hours. She had to marvel at nature’s efficiency.
“Take care of her,” ordered Norma. “She’s a threat to the project.”
“Yes, ma’am. There were two other people who stumbled across the scene after our man left. Do you want me to take care of them as well?”
“Did they see him?”
“No, but there is one odd coincidence. Our man told the nurse he was looking for a woman named Roxanne. The woman here also has that name.”
That was no coincidence. The odds were too slim. S-eleven-sixteen’s contact was here—perhaps with the subject’s diary.
A flash of panic assailed Norma before she could control it. There was no need for hysterics. The woman may have figured out where to find them, but there was no way she could know the exact location of the facility. S-eleven-sixteen didn’t know, so it stood to reason that she couldn’t, either. Besides, it was hidden well. Guarded. Only someone who knew the land and the security measures would have a chance at slipping by without being killed.
Still, this woman was a risk, and Norma didn’t like the idea of her asking questions or raising suspicions in town. They were not going to move again because of Roxanne Haught. She wasn’t worth the trouble.
“Do you know where she is?” Norma asked S-eight-nine.
“At the Hall’s B and B. Second floor. They were put in the rooms on the east, the ones with the balcony.”
“I’ll have the general deal with them. Keep the authorities away for the rest of the night.”
“Won’t their deaths raise too many suspicions, ma’am?”
“I won’t have them killed there. The woman may still be of some use.” If S-eleven-sixteen cared for Roxanne Haught, Norma would be able to use her to verify that his induction was complete and successful. This was a rare scientific opportunity, and Norma couldn’t let it slip by.
Chapter Thirteen
Tanner could still feel the heat of Razor’s slender body pressed against his as he made his way to his room next door.
He’d wanted to stay. He didn’t like the idea of leaving her when she was so obviously suffering with worry for Jake. He also didn’t like the idea of leaving her alone in case whoever had killed the doctor came back.
If he’d been more than a few feet away, he probably would have fought her on the issue, but he’d been in enough battles to know that sometimes falling back was the best option. He’d planted the seeds of hope tonight. After some sleep, and some time for those seeds to grow, she’d be better able to handle moving forward.
The walls were thin. He could hear the sound of water running in the shower next door. He stripped out of his bloody clothes. The shirt was ruined, but his jeans might survive. He shoved them in a plastic laundry bag and sat to wait until Roxanne was done with her shower before he would get one himself, just in case the aging B and B didn’t have enough hot water for both of them to shower at the same time.
The thought shoved an image in his head of the two of them showering together and soaping each other up. He hardened in a heartbeat, his cock rising to attention at the stray thought.
Not going to happen. Not in this lifetime.
Tanner forced his thoughts to go in another direction as he peeled the bandages from his back, desperate to find something to distract himself. His muscles stretched at the awkward angle. His blood beat through his veins, trying to cool his skin. Even clothed in nothing more than a pair of knit boxers, he still felt overheated. Sweat beaded up along his hairline and down his spine. His hands closed into tight fists as he tried to regain control.
He wanted her. And as simple as that fact was, it came with a cargo shipload of problems, not the least of which was that they had to work together. Too bad his libido didn’t care.
Soap banged against the bottom of the tub, and he tried really hard not to picture her all soapy and naked, bending over to pick it up.
Of course, trying not to think about it only made things worse. His imagination went wild, filling in all the erotic little details he hadn’t had the pleasure of seeing. He’d seen her bare arms and legs when she’d thrown on her workout clothes to clean up the glass, and that alone was enough to give him wet dreams for the rest of his life. She had the kind of body that made his mouth water. Sculpted, but not hard. Sleek but curvy. And her skin was whisper soft. Covered in suds, she’d be even softer. His hands would glide so easily over her slippery skin, finding all the places that made her breath catch when he stroked them.
Tanner gritted his teeth and turned on the TV. The news was on, and an anchorwoman was talking about the economy. She was pretty, but not nearly as hot as Roxanne. Her hair was nice, falling over her shoulders in dark waves that caught the studio lighting.
Razor’s hair would be dark blond right now, slicked back from her forehead by the shower. He wondered if the color was natural and if he’d ever get the opportunity to find out. He could see her doing the full spa treatment, wax and all.
Not that he’d ever have the chance to look. The only way he was ever going to see her naked was in his dreams, which was going to be more than enough to make him uncomfortable tomorrow morning.
He knew he’d dream about her tonight. Hell, he was dreaming about her now, and he wasn’t even asleep.
The water next door turned off. He made a beeline for the bathroom and took as little time as possible getting clean, ignoring the sting of soap in his cuts. The threat to her safety was real, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to be caught in the shower if the bad guys came a-callin’.
The sheriff had been hiding something today. Tanner was sure of it. Maybe it was a mistress or a gambling problem, but Tanner didn’t think so. Bream had been smooth, but there had been a couple of flickers of unease that didn’t make sense.
Both had happened when he’d been asking questions about the strangers
that had come through. It was almost as if the sheriff knew something wasn’t right. The question was whether he was trying to figure out the problem or was he part of it.
One thing was for sure: Razor got a strange e-mail from the same town in which a doctor was killed by a man looking for her. That was more than coincidence, and Tanner was going to get to the bottom of it.
He might have let down his family more times than he could count, but he wasn’t going to let Razor down. She needed his help, and he was going to see to it that she got it.
Tanner had finally calmed his thoughts and fallen asleep when he heard a noise that was out of place. His mind jolted into wakefulness, his body tensing to act. He lay in bed, breathing quietly, seeking out the source of that sound while his hand moved toward the gun sitting on his nightstand.
He could see nothing out of place in his room. Light from the streetlights outside filtered in around the edges of the shades, allowing him to see without trouble.
A faint scratching sound came from the balcony. It could have been a cat or some other animal, but Tanner wasn’t taking any chances.
He rose from his bed and moved on silent feet to the French doors. He lifted the edge of the curtains and peeked out.
No one was out there.
He pushed the curtain open and unlocked the door to get a better look down the long balcony that ran along the building.
From Razor’s room came a clatter, as though something hard had fallen onto the floor, followed by a sharp, feminine cry of pain.
Adrenaline surged through him as a hundred different reasons for the noise flew around in his mind. None of them was good.
The balcony door was closest, so he went that way. The wooden deck was rough against his bare feet. In the few seconds it took him to reach her door, he registered the sound of crickets and the scent of heat rising from the asphalt below.
Razor’s door was open. Tanner barreled through, his gun drawn and ready.
His eyes were already adjusted to the dimness, so he had no trouble seeing the wiry man who had Razor pinned on her stomach against the bed with her wrists bound. She struggled, but his knee was against her back, keeping her down. Her head was shoved into the mattress, cutting off her air and any screams she might let out. Her arms flailed and her feet kicked, trying to find some target.
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