“Okay, but you’ll have to tell me one day, Callie,” he said picking her up. “Come, Zeke.” He carried her to bed. As he tucked her in, a part of him was waiting for her to tell him to stay. If she did, he absolutely would.
“I’m right downstairs if you need me,” he said softly.
Callie stared up into his eyes. God, she wished he would demand to stay there with her. She could use someone to hold her. The terror was still there, just simmering under the tough exterior.
“I’ve got the man-eater here, so I’ll be good.”
He simply nodded and walked away.
Damn!
Closing the door, he listened to her talking to his dog as they became acquainted.
If there was one thing that he knew for sure, it was that Zeke was one damn lucky mutt.
* * *
Wednesday Morning
Callie could feel something licking her fingers.
Immediately, she rolled to her right and found herself face to face with Zeke, in all his bed hogging glory. She didn’t know whether to laugh or scream. Callie decided to pet him on his floppy ears, before heading to the bathroom to shower.
She wasn’t going to win this battle that was brewing between her brain and her gut. She could already feel the soft spot forming for both the sheriff and his mangy guard dog.
In fact, it was more than a soft spot.
The man knew how to get to her.
Quinn heard Callie moving around and began making her breakfast. He couldn’t cook many things, but eggs were a no-brainer. In fact, it was the staple of his diet. The least he could do was feed her, since this felt like his fault.
Quinn was worried about her. The fact that helping him had dragged her into the line of fire, weighed heavily on his mind. There was this growing guilt that was consuming him whole.
How could he tell her delicately that she wasn’t going to help him anymore, and not have her hold it against him?
He almost laughed.
Yeah, this was going to be a fight.
He could already see it coming.
Oh well. Callista Carter was going to have to accept it for what it was. Her life was valuable to him, as was what he was trying to build between them, so he would have to muddle through on his own.
Callie dressed in her suit, knowing it wasn’t going to work with sneakers. Instead, she scrapped that idea to frustratingly dig through her closet. Finally, she ended up going with jeans.
Well, hell. It was her office, so why couldn’t she have a casual Wednesday?
Pulling on her clothes, she checked her make-up, and then finished playing with her hair.
Enough with the stalling, Callie knew that it was time to face the man in her kitchen. There was bad energy in her house, and she knew why.
Quinn could hear her coming. At her approach, he held out the mug of coffee. When she casually strolled past him, taking the cup, but keeping her face carefully neutral, he braced for the storm that was on the horizon.
Yeah, this was going to be ugly.
“Are you hungry?”
“Not really,” she replied. Despite her answer, he placed a plate of eggs in front of her anyway.
“Oh well. That’s too bad since I cooked for you. I don’t usually do that for anyone, so eat up or you’ll hurt my feelings.”
Callie couldn’t help but notice that his words didn't sound entirely like a joke to her. There was generally truth in words said in jest. The last thing she wanted was to hurt his feelings, so Callie sucked it up.
As they both began eating, Zeke strolled in, placing his head on her lap, big eyes staring up at her. She took a bite of her toast and fed him the rest. The large dog inhaled it, before looking for more.
“You just made a friend for life,” he said, not looking up from his food. For what was coming, he couldn’t go soft and mushy.
“Great,” she muttered, feeding him more.
When her eyes finally met his, Callie got a funny fluttering in her stomach. It was hard not to feel all hot and bothered when a man made you breakfast, slept on your couch, and had some stubble on his face. It was like he knew she was a sucker for a scruffy, unshaved cowboy.
Damn it!
“We need to talk,” he stated, putting down his fork.
Callie shrugged as she ate her scrambled eggs. Considering he swore he couldn’t cook, they were light, fluffy, and really good.
“You’re done helping the police.”
Callie glared at him, her blue eyes going ice cold. “You think?”
“Yeah, it’s not worth you being hurt,” he added. If something happened to her, how would he justify it? Callie mattered to him, even if he meant nothing to her.
“Well, Sheriff Gaines, I’m so damn pleased that you have made another decision for me in life. First, you tell me that you’re staying here, and then I’m being marched to your house tonight against my will. On top of all the masculine ridiculousness, you now tell me that I’m no longer ALLOWED to assist you.”
“Yeah, that about sums it up, baby,” he said emotionlessly, unwilling to compromise on her safety.
“Go to hell. I’m helping you.”
“Or what? Are you going to march on over here and kick my ass?” he said, snidely. “Go ahead and put your hands all over me.”
“I’m going to do far worse,” she threatened, noticing his lifted brow. “I’m going to call the FBI and have them down here all over your ass.”
The vein in his temple throbbed. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh, yeah, I would,” she replied, picking her dish up, only to drop it on the floor for Zeke. “Try me, Sheriff.”
“Fine, call them,” he said, trying to see if she was bluffing or had the ability to really pull it off.
“I plan on it!” she snapped, walking toward her office. Behind her was one very angry man, and yet his temper was nothing compared to hers at that moment.
As if timed, her home phone rang, and Callie knew it had to be Luke, sending the information she requested. “Hello?”
“Hey, gorgeous. I have your files. Do you want me to send it through?”
“Yeah, darlin’, that would be great. When I get to my office, I’ll call you back. I have another favor I need.”
Quinn wasn’t exactly down for the count on the argument front. If she wanted to play dirty, so could he. Showing Callie her cellphone in his hand, he made sure she watched him scroll through her contacts. Grabbing a pen, he scribbled down a number.
Callie was confused. It caught her off guard that he was in her phone. When he actually appeared to find what he was looking for, that shocked her more.
He lowered his voice. “You call them in, and I’m callin’ your daddy to tell him about your scare last night.”
Callie focused on the phone call. “Send it Luke. I’ll call you later.” She hung up the phone, fighting the urge to slam it down violently.
“You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, baby, you have no idea.”
Callie came around the desk and stuck her finger in his hard chest. “Why you…” She didn’t have a name for him.
“Excuse me?”
She wanted to scream in frustration.
It was all Quinn needed. Grabbing Callie, he pulled her against the front of his body as his mouth crashed down on hers in hunger. Just the sight of her there, all hair and anger, pushed him over the edge. He had to taste her and maybe, just maybe, she could quench the fire that was burning in his gut.
How did she not get that this terrified him?
Callie, in harm’s way, scared him shitless.
She didn’t know what to do when his mouth came down on hers in a frenzy. This was like being consumed alive. Callie could feel his need and urgency as it slammed into her own body in crashing waves. All she could do was hold onto him as he pulled her under.
Who was she kidding? This was one ride that she desperately wanted to take.
As her hand slipped beneath his untucked shirt, touching heated
flesh, Quinn’s brain screamed for him to stop. He knew that what he was trying to create between them had already been screwed up more than once. Finally, his sanity kicked in, causing him to slowly pull away from her mouth. The second the contact was broken, Quinn missed the heat and taste of her. “Callie,” he groaned, dropping more kisses on her chin and neck.
She had no control around him. This Casanova in his beat-up jeans, and cowboy hat, was her weakness.
Tearing herself from his arms, she pulled away. Damn it! She had never felt anything like that before. This was the first, and only man who she ever wanted to devour her whole. The look on her face must have said it all because Quinn immediately looked worried.
“I’m sorry, Callie,” he murmured. “You’re going to bolt, aren’t you?”
“I need to get to work, Quinn. I have quite a few appointments today,” she said, ignoring his question. As her fax beeped, it gave her the opportunity to put more space between them. When the last paper slid out, Callie shoved them into his hands.
“Callie,” he began.
She didn't give him a chance. “It was nice working with you, Sheriff.” It was the only sentence that would come out. Callie was feeling so many different things at that moment.
“Callie!” he called after her, as she raced out of the house. By the time he caught up to her, she was already in her Mercedes and pulling out of the driveway.
“Wait!” he shouted. “Callie! Please!”
But it was too late.
Now, he had more trouble on his hands. The woman he was crazy about had someone after her, and he just pushed her away.
“Real smooth, Quinton. Real damn smooth.”
* * *
Callie arrived at her office, and the first thing she did was call her insurance company to arrange for someone to fix her window and front door. Then, she sent a text to Luke, asking him to send everything through to the sheriff’s office instead of her. Quinn would need their help, and she wasn’t mad enough to make him, or any other women in town, suffer. If he didn't want her assistance, what could she do? Hold him at gun point?
Unfortunately, this was exactly what the killer wanted, and apparently, the sheriff was willing to give in to the demands.
When her cellphone began ringing and more texts started coming in, Callie did the best thing for her sanity.
She shut off the phone.
At that moment, men weren’t high on her list. Avoiding them was the smartest advice she could give herself.
Well, that and never trust a sexy sheriff with her heart.
* * *
Quinn sat in his workspace looking like he wanted to chew nails. He was in a real pissy mood and knew that he had deserved Callie’s hostility. She wasn’t used to being bossed around, and that’s exactly what he’d done.
When she didn't answer her texts, he got worried.
As his calls went to voicemail, it made him nervous.
After calling her office, only to be told she wasn’t taking any calls from him today, or ever again, he was scared shitless.
Okay, this was a very bad thing. There was no doubt in his mind that he needed to handle this, and fast. As he began weighing his options, his office phone rang.
“Sheriff’s department.”
“Quinton Gaines?”
“Yeah,” he snapped. The voice sounded familiar, but there was no way in hell the Feds would be calling for him.
“My name is Agent Lucas Mars. I was asked to assist you with the files we sent to Callie. Do you have any questions?”
Quinn was confused. She was angrier than a building full of bees, and yet she had still asked her contacts at the FBI to help him.
Damn it!
“I haven’t gone through the file yet, Agent, but from what Callie told me yesterday, there are some similarities.”
“Out in Phoenix, there were seven victims in all. Each was gagged and assaulted the same way. Only the trail went cold.”
“But no carvings?”
“No, that’s the only difference,” he said. “Apparently, if this is the same person, this is the escalation. Did you have Callie profile it for you?”
“She began, yes.”
“Good, because she’s the best there is. So, are you dating her?” he asked, switching it up to catch him off guard.
Quinn almost fell off his chair at the man’s audacity. “What? I’m sorry, but I must have misheard you. Can you repeat that?”
“Are you dating our Callie?”
Where to even go with this? First off, the use of the word ‘our’ made him want to chew through the phone to get to the man. Then, he only wished he was dating the doctor. He didn't know how to get her to agree to it. Talking about it with a stranger pissed him off to no end.
“I don’t know if I should answer that question. It’s really none of your business,” he snarled, as his temper rose. Quinn could hear the purely masculine laughter on the other end.
“Touchy, Mr. Sheriff.”
Okay, two could play at this game. “Maybe you can answer a few questions for me, since you’re trying to get to know me.”
The laughter stopped. Luke didn't expect the man to turn it around on him. “Shoot,” he said.
“Have you ever been her fiancé?”
Luke snorted. “No, but believe me, I asked daily when she helped on our cases. Callie had this irritating habit of repeatedly telling me no. Apparently, I wasn’t her type or something like that.”
“I see.” Quinn immediately felt better.
“Are there any more questions?” he asked, as the humor touched his voice.
“Yeah, how well can she shoot that Ruger of hers?”
Suddenly, Luke was worried. Callie only took out her gun if there was a major problem, and if the sheriff had seen it, something had gone on. “I once saw her take out a poker chip her daddy tossed in the air.”
“Thanks,” he said.
“You saw Callie with her gun?” asked Luke, trying to stay calm. Something was up. He could sense it.
Quinn opted to cover for her. “We were talking about firearms the other night, that’s all,” he said. Technically, it wasn’t a lie. They did have a conversation regarding them.
His bases were covered.
“Well, Sheriff, if you need any help or have questions about that file, then you just give me a call.” He rattled off his number and hung up the phone.
“Holy shit, that was close,” he muttered. Part of Luke’s conversation kept replaying over and over in his mind.
Callie had a type.
Now, he needed to make sure he became it.
Or at least as close to it as possible.
* * *
Callie glanced at her watch. Being that there was very little time left in her session with the reverend’s wife, her day was looking up. The woman was neurotic, paranoid, and obsessed with her husband’s daily business.
“I think he’s cheatin’ on me, Doctor.”
“Why do you suspect that, Margaret?” she asked, already aware of what the woman was going to say. It wasn’t like they didn't have this conversation every week.
“We don’t have sex anymore, and I don’t think he finds me attractive.”
“Margaret, how old is you husband?” she asked.
“He’s fifty-eight, but I don’t see how that has anything to do with it?”
Callie was then forced to launch into a lengthy discussion on how men declined in sexual activity once they hit a certain age. As the woman continued to stare at her blankly, Callie was ready to toss in the towel. Now, it was about getting the session finished.
When the timer went off, and the woman was gone, Callie relaxed in her office. While she should be thinking about work, she found herself dwelling on a certain sheriff. Maybe he really didn't want her to stop helping him with the case. Everything they both said could have simply been in anger.
At the knock on the door, Marti walked in with a bag.
“This came for you.”
Callie looked confused and opened it. Inside was a carton of Thai food. When she reached in, her heart skipped a beat in her chest.
He was thinking about her.
She had to know. “How did this get here?”
“It was delivered a few minutes ago. The sheriff wanted to buy you lunch,” she said, sitting in the vacant chair. “Plus, he’s called every hour, trying to bribe me to talk to you. That man has it pretty damn bad if you ask me.”
Callie was entertained. “What did he promise you?”
“He started small with chocolates, and then moved to his mangy dog, and finally his firstborn.”
Callie sighed as she opened the take-out container. He even ordered her favorite food. “Does the sheriff’s department have an email address?”
“I’m sure they do. There’s a website on social media. I think you can track him down there.”
“Thank you, Marti,” Callie replied.
“Your next appointment cancelled, so you have plenty of time to dream about the sexy sheriff.”
Callie started laughing.
“I’m serious. Do you think that men like him are going to fall out of the sky at regular intervals? You got a good one. You better make sure you hold on to that man.”
“Yes, Mom,” she teased, taking her first bite of lunch. Maybe her secretary had a very valid point. Turning to her computer, she began her research.
When she found the email address, complete with his smiling picture on the staff page, her fingers gently touched the image. Yeah, she needed to take care of this.
Twenty minutes later, she smiled, hit the send button, and waited to hear back from one of the really good guys.
Okay, he was infuriating, but then again, no one was perfect.
Quinn was sitting in his office when there was a knock on the door. For the last forty minutes, he had been distracted as he thought about Callie. When he didn't hear from her, Quinn knew there was a good chance he’d do something stupid like race over there, toss her over his shoulder, and drag her home. So, he forced himself to work. Maybe dwelling on something else would save him another apology and lots of humiliation.
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