by Lora Leigh
Would he come in uniform, she wondered? Or in those thigh-hugging jeans and loose shirts that always made her mouth water? She wanted to strip him so damned badly she could barely breathe for the need when he was out of uniform.
She didn’t want to even consider what he did to her when he was in uniform. She tried to ignore the wicked little urges she had then, because it was a hell of a lot worse than without the uniform.
Maybe it had something to do with those handcuffs hanging on the side of his belt, she thought mockingly as she made her way up the stairs to her apartment. Yeah, had to be those handcuffs. She had some interesting fantasies where those were concerned.
Unlocking her apartment, she pushed it open and stepped inside. The lights were on. She left them on because she didn’t like the dark. She and her friend Janey Mackay were a lot alike in that regard. The dark was a lonely place to be for Rogue.
The large, open living room and kitchen greeted her. Spotlessly clean, because she really didn’t spend much time in her so-called home. The dark brown leather couch and chairs were comfortable; the scarred coffee table was an antique she hadn’t had time to refinish. Or perhaps just hadn’t made time. There was something about those scars of time on it that appealed to her.
The double doors into her bedroom were open, a low light on her bed stand shining into the room. And it was quiet. So quiet.
Maybe she needed a cat. A cat would at least meow at her when she came in, or so Janey had assured her.
Shaking her head, she paced over to the tall, wide windows and drew a curtain back enough to stare into the parking lot below. Just in time to watch Zeke Mayes pull into the lot in the full-sized farm pickup he drove when he wasn’t on duty.
Hell. He was going to be in civilian clothes.
She watched closely as he parked, opened the door, and stepped out beneath one of the bright lights shining overhead. Her mouth watered.
A long-sleeved white button-up shirt was tucked into snug jeans. She thought he might be wearing boots. There was the glint of his badge on the pocket of his jeans. He wore it like that sometimes, and she thought it was the sexiest damned thing she had ever seen.
She wondered where his handcuffs were.
Her fingers clenched on the material of the curtains as she felt herself heat at the sight of him. She might be a virgin, but she knew all the signs of arousal and a night that was most likely going to involve toys of some sort.
Her clit was swollen, the bare folds of her sex felt flushed and damp. Her nipples were peaking beneath the camisole and vest, and she could feel that nervous little flutter attacking her stomach and thighs. Just the sight of him was enough to sensitize her body.
It was lust. Lust was a powerful force, she reminded herself. It couldn’t have anything to do with the need to just curl into his arms and rest there. That was weakness, not lust. It was loneliness. She had separated herself from most friendships, she hadn’t allowed herself a lover because she couldn’t have the lover she wanted. So comfort wasn’t something she knew a lot about. But it was something she missed more often than not.
Running her hands down the sides of her skirt, Rogue pulled back from the window and drew in a deep, hard breath. She could almost feel him moving closer. Through the bar, his shoulders brushing against the women who would crowd closer, just to feel the heat and hardness of his corded, muscular body.
She closed her eyes, remembering the feel of him herself. The way his body seemed to wrap around her when he almost, just almost brushed against her. Zeke always made certain he didn’t actually touch her unless he had no choice.
The jarring ring of the phone had her eyes jerking open. Frowning, she pulled the cell phone from the clip at her side and flipped it open after checking the number.
“Yeah, Jonesy?”
“Sheriff wants to talk to you,” he growled. “You in?”
Her lips almost twitched at his protectiveness. “Yes, Jonesy. Send him on up.”
Jonesy grunted and she could almost see the wrinkles in his brow as he frowned.
Flipping the phone closed, she laid it on the table by the couch and moved to the door. She opened it, pulled it wide, and moved back to the kitchen for a bottle of water. Something to do with herself as she waited. To calm herself, to settle her vulnerabilities until she could reestablish her shields.
Joe and Jaime’s deaths had thrown her. It had left her drifting, uncertain, questioning too many things in her life. The twins were two of the few people she had allowed herself to care for in the past years. She kept most people at a distance simply so they couldn’t hurt her, so they couldn’t be used against her to hurt her. It was easier that way. Easier on her heart and on her life.
Damn, she hadn’t realized how much she had let herself care about people until today.
“Leaving your door open like this could be dangerous.” Zeke’s dark voice filled the room as she reached inside the fridge for the bottle of water.
She paused, closed her eyes, and took in a deep, hard breath before clenching the water and pulling back. She turned to face him, letting the fridge door close as her eyes met his.
They were eagle fierce in his sun-darkened face. His dark brown hair was cut short, almost military short. There was the lightest sprinkling of gray at his temples. It was sexy.
Those damned jeans molded to his thighs. The fabric of his shirt was just a little loose but did nothing to hide the power of his broad chest and shoulders. And yes, he was wearing boots. Scarred work boots. The kind that just made a man’s legs look strong and sturdy.
“I knew you were coming up.” She shrugged. “Close the door behind you.”
He stood there, staring at her.
“Unless you’re scared to be alone here with me.” She moved slowly through the kitchen area to the living room. “Afraid your reputation will suffer, Sheriff?”
His lips quirked. Rogue watched as his arm reached out, his fingers gripped the doorknob, and he closed the door slowly. A second later, those lean fingers flipped the locks in place without his gaze ever leaving hers.
“So brave.” She pretended to shiver. “You’re living dangerously this week.”
He stared back at her the way he usually did unless she pushed him. As though he were on the edge of being bored with her. Damn him. She didn’t bore him. She made him hard. He was filling those damned jeans out in ways she knew they weren’t meant to be filled. That was not boredom.
“You heard about Joe and Jaime,” he stated as he moved farther into the room. “I tried to find time to come out and tell you myself, but I was tied up with forensics and city hall.”
“Not a problem.” She shrugged as she twisted the cap off the water. “I’m sure I heard about it before the coroner ever had the bodies loaded and ready to go. Your deputy likes to run his mouth, Sheriff. Seems he thinks trailer trash like the Walkers don’t warrant a forensics team. Bad blood showing and all that. Why should the city waste its money on two men that just got what they deserved.”
His lips thinned. Anger perhaps. Irritation definitely as he strode to where she stood. “Sit down, Rogue. I’ll deal with my deputy and city hall. Until then, I’d like to figure out what the hell happened with Joe and Jaime.”
She sat down on the couch and would have laughed in mocking amusement when he took the chair beside her, except the disappointment went too deep. She would have felt his warmth if he had sat on the couch. And she felt cold inside. For some reason, she felt lost. As though she had traveled too far and too long from some vision of security and now found herself deep in unfamiliar territory.
“I’m sorry about Joe and Jaime, Rogue.” Zeke sighed then, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “I know those boys were closer to you than most folks knew. That’s why I need to talk to you. See if you can help me figure out what happened.”
Rogue slid the high heels from her feet and folded her legs beneath her. No sense in worrying about whether or not her legs looked nice in front of Zek
e right now. He was keeping his gaze firmly on her face. Besides, feeling sexy and being reminded of why he was here didn’t go hand in hand.
“Joe wouldn’t have killed Jaime,” she told him with a firm shake of her head. “Joe and Jaime were too close, Zeke. They might have fought over a woman every now and then, or anything else, but they would have never hurt each other. Not for anything.”
“What about drugs?” He leaned forward and stared back at her in demand. A demand for the truth, as though she would lie to him.
“They didn’t have the money for drugs,” she told him. “A little pot every now and then, sure. But not the hard stuff. They didn’t touch hard drugs.”
“But they did smoke pot?” he asked.
“Probably.” She lifted her shoulders. “I never saw them do it, but I assumed they did from a few jokes they’ve made over the years. I never saw any evidence of it though. The most I’ve seen was a few too many beers and a little brawl here and there over a girl. They usually made a few swings at each other, started laughing, and then headed home with the girl together. They were like that. Nothing was serious for too long.”
“What about enemies?” Zeke asked. “Did they have any you’d believe would want to hurt them?”
She stared back at him heavily. “I can’t think of a single enemy those two boys had. For all their womanizing, they were well liked. I never knew of anyone wanting to hurt them. And why ask that question if it’s a cut-and-dried murder-suicide as your deputy believes?”
She watched Zeke suspiciously now. Why the questions if he believed Joe had murdered Jaime, then killed himself?
“There was a murder, no matter what happened or why,” Zeke told her. “I need to figure out the what and the why to close this case, Rogue. I don’t like questions left dangling.”
“Then you have a hell of a question going on there,” she told him. “Because I’m telling you, Joe wouldn’t hurt Jaime. He was the oldest twin. He was more protective toward Jaime. No one hurt Jaime that Joe didn’t come running.”
He still watched her closely, that somber gaze moving over her face, almost to her neck. For a second, she had a feeling that he would have looked lower, but he didn’t. He kept his gaze on her face, and that pissed her off.
He was sitting here questioning her over her cousins’ deaths, deaths he had to suspect couldn’t have played out as it was made to look. He could have come to question her at any time, but he came late, after he was off duty, in plainclothes, and aroused.
Unlike him, she’d had no problem looking below his neck. Or his waist. She sure as hell had no problem looking below his belt.
“Look, Zeke, I can’t tell you anything you obviously don’t know already,” she told him. “I know Joe or Jaime—neither one would have hurt the other. Whatever happened up there is bogus. It was a setup and I can’t figure out why, because Joe and Jaime were a threat to no one.”
“We thought you were a threat to no one last year when you were attacked as well,” he reminded her. “It wasn’t what you knew on Mackay and Grace that landed you in the hospital, Rogue, it was what they were afraid you knew. What could Joe have been afraid of that would have made him kill his brother and himself?”
Last year she had managed to get herself twisted into a Homeland Security investigation into Nadine Grace and Dayle Mackay. As he’d said, it wasn’t what she had known but what Grace and Mackay thought she might have known that had been the problem. When the investigator, Dayle’s son’s lover, Chaya Dane, had questioned her, it had drawn Rogue within their sights once more.
She’d spent a week in the hospital, bruised, with a cracked rib and a bruised skull, but she’d come out of it alive.
“Someone else killed Joe and Jaime,” she told him. “Get that in your head, Zeke. Someone set that scene up. Because I know to the soles of my feet neither of those boys would have hurt the other. It wasn’t in them.”
His jaw flexed, and his gaze jerked to her feet where they rested at the side of her body, then back to her face. How interesting.
God, he made her mad. Never more mad though than he was making her tonight. He was almost foaming at the mouth to touch her, as desperate for it as she was, and still, he denied both of them.
He nodded. “I’ll keep checking things out,” he told her. “But unless forensics or the coroner comes up with something, then murder-suicide is what we’re looking at. And it damn sure looks as though Joe killed Jaime and then himself.”
Her lips twisted mockingly. “Yeah, and there are pictures on the Internet that make me look like a world-class slut,” she reminded him. “Trust me, looks are incredibly deceiving.”
His gaze darkened, though it never moved from her. Sometimes, she wondered exactly what was going on behind that fierce gaze. Hawklike light brown eyes that seemed to reflect shadows of emotions that she could never really decipher.
“I’ve never seen the pictures,” he finally said, surprising her.
Rogue’s brow lifted. “Really? You must be the only man in the county that hasn’t managed to find them.”
Zeke wasn’t a man to lie, about anything.
“I never went looking for them,” he told her. “I didn’t want to see them, Rogue, because they didn’t matter between you and me.”
THREE
Of course they didn’t. Those pictures, one way or the other, would never change the fact that he might want her, but he had no intention of touching her.
She’d tested that theory over the winter. All the rides she’d requested after the long hours she had put in at the Mackay restaurant. The nights she had invited him up for a drink or tried to linger in his vehicle to talk, to flirt. She’d given up. She’d let it go. She wasn’t begging him.
She unfolded herself from the couch, reached down, and picked up her shoes before staring down at him.
“Do you have any further questions, Zeke? It’s late, I need a drink, and I was looking forward to a bubble bath. Honestly, I don’t know what else I could tell you about Joe and Jaime that you don’t already know. Or think you know.”
And she couldn’t handle being in the same room with him tonight. She wasn’t as strong as she had been in the winter. Perhaps those winter months had weakened her. Hoping against hope each night that she had flirted her way into his car that something, anything, would come of it. Only to have her hopes dashed time and again.
“You’re throwing me out?” He tilted his head and looked up at her, his gaze flashing with a heat she was afraid to delve too deeply into. “After weeks of trying to get me up here to your apartment, you’re not even offering me a beer?”
“No. I’m not. Good night, Zeke. Lock the door on your way out.”
She turned and walked to the open bedroom door. She could feel his gaze on her, felt him watching her, his eyes burning into her. Suddenly, her skirt was too short, the vest flashed too much skin at her midriff and back. She felt exposed, vulnerable. She felt weak.
“Hell of a change, Rogue. You tried to seduce me half the winter. What happened?”
She stopped and turned around slowly to see him standing, cocky, assured, confident.
“I gave up,” she replied shortly. “As you said, I tried to seduce you. You weren’t willing. I don’t beg. End of story.”
His expression tightened, a muscle jumping at his jaw as his gaze raked over her then.
“You’re too damned young,” he finally berated her, and perhaps himself as well, she thought. Or he was trying to convince himself.
“I’m too damned tired to play games.” It was all she could do to keep her shoulders straight and to fight back the tears. “Joe and Jaime were family. This has hit me rather hard, and as you see”—she lifted her arms wide to encompass the empty apartment—“it’s just me and the bubble bath for comfort. I don’t need to add games to tonight’s stress if you don’t mind.”
Zeke watched Rogue closely. He saw it then. That shadow in those deep violet eyes that had held his attention. A shadow he had
never seen before. Loneliness. Loss. He knew that feeling. And in the past five years whenever it struck, it was Rogue that came to mind. Her smile, the promise of passion in her eyes, the need to touch her, the certainty that she could calm the beast that raged inside him.
Damn her. She’d managed to worm her way into his life, there was no doubt of that. He’d missed her in the past few weeks since she had started riding her Harley to the restaurant rather than calling him and bumming a ride. Hell, he’d more than missed it. It was as though something were suddenly missing from his life. There was an emptiness where those hours lay now, a sense of waiting.
“Why don’t you have a lover, Rogue?” He looked around the apartment. To his knowledge, as long as she had lived in Somerset, Rogue had never had a lover.
He didn’t count the pictures that had ended up on the Internet. He’d investigated that himself, and though he could never find proof, there was enough suspicion to prove to him that Rogue had been used somehow. Rumor was Nadine Grace and Dayle Mackay had targeted her when she had defended Zeke’s son over a test at school. Nadine had never liked Shane because Zeke had refused to walk the same path his father had walked. Thad Mayes had held the position of sheriff for years, and through that time he had protected Dayle Mackay and the Freedom League’s collective asses. He hadn’t just protected them, he had been part of them. Zeke refused to follow that path, and Nadine had finally found a way to strike back, through Shane.
A month after standing up for his son, Rogue had left the bar with a strange couple. She hadn’t been well known then; no one had thought to question her when she left. And then Rogue had been out of a job in the school system and the pictures had shown up on the Internet.
Oh, Zeke knew how Grace and Mackay had worked, he thought as he found himself moving across the room, his gaze drifting, again, to the scalloped lace that peeked over her leather vest.
Bra or camisole? he wondered. Probably one of those short little camisole things. Scarlet red and flirty. Just like the shoes she carried in her hand.
“You didn’t answer me, Rogue,” he reminded her. “Why don’t you have a lover?”