by Brenda Novak
“None of your damn business,” he said.
“It will become my business if you’ve been out in the desert shooting illegal immigrants.”
He laughed softly. “Sorry, Sophia. I’m not the one who’s killing wetbacks. But if you want my opinion, I think the guy who’s doing it deserves a medal.”
“Then you’re as twisted as he is,” she said. “But that doesn’t surprise me.”
“You’re so sure it’s me that you’re missing the obvious.”
“Which is…”
“Oh, no.” He shook his head. “You’ll have to work that one out for yourself. I’m the last person who’d ever help you.”
She lowered the gun so it wasn’t pointing directly at him, but she didn’t put it away. “I don’t need your help, Leonard. That’s not why I’m here.”
Easing himself onto the bed, he stretched out his legs. “No?”
“I’m here for the picture.”
He smiled. “Oh, that. Of course.”
“Where is it?”
Eager to witness her reaction, he shifted to one side so he could pull it from his back pocket. Then he turned it face out but held it far enough away that he could snatch it back if she grabbed for it. News of her having an affair with her stepfather would be all over town by tomorrow. The picture had already served its purpose, but he couldn’t relinquish it to her or anyone else. He’d had to do a lot of work in Photoshop to get that picture to look as real as it did. The image seemed authentic in the dim light of a bar, even here in the bedroom if viewed from a distance, but he had no illusions that it could withstand a close inspection, especially by the subject herself.
To his gratification, the sight of what he’d created made the color drain from Sophia’s face. “Where did you get that?”
“Where do you think?”
“Not from Gary. There’s no way he could’ve taken that photo. For one, it’s recent.”
When he hadn’t been able to find any pictures of Sophia except those snapped at Lake Powell during a trip they’d taken at the invitation of the former chief of police, Leonard had had to adjust his story. But gossip about a current affair would do more damage to Sophia, anyway. Councilwoman Torres definitely hadn’t liked what she’d seen. She’d stiffened the moment she took hold of the picture and recognized who it was. Then she’d assumed an air of superiority that told him exactly what she thought of Sophia St. Claire. And she’d been one of Sophia’s most ardent supporters!
“I guess I misunderstood,” he said. “I was sure Gus was talking about an old affair, but when he brought this to the bar tonight I realized it was taken within the past couple of years.”
“Gus didn’t bring that to the bar,” she said. “Gus isn’t even in town. He’s in Flagstaff.”
Leonard hadn’t been aware of that when he’d used Gus’s name. Other than running into him at the Firelight occasionally, they had little or no contact. But it didn’t matter. Leonard was only trying to torment Sophia; making her scramble to suppress the rumors he’d started would certainly do that. Especially because those rumors were founded on a kernel of truth—a kernel that was already painful for her.
“Then someone else must’ve given it to me.”
“Or it isn’t me at all,” she said. “What’d you do? Doctor one of the pictures we took at Powell?”
She’d caught on quickly, even though he’d done an excellent job of changing the background. But knowing what he’d done wouldn’t improve her situation. She wouldn’t be able to counteract the damage to her reputation. Too many people had seen the photograph. Regardless of how much she denied that anything had happened, they’d secretly wonder what had gone on between her and Gary. Particularly since there’d been rumors when she’d left home before graduating from high school.
“I guess you’ll never know, huh?” Laughing, he pulled out his lighter. The breasts he’d superimposed over her bikini top were gorgeous—for all he knew they were nicer than the real thing. He’d been careful to choose someone about her size and shape. But as fond as he was of his work, the time had come to destroy it.
Realizing what he was about to do, she lifted her gun again. “Oh, no, you don’t.”
“Go ahead and shoot,” he said, and lit the edge of the photograph.
With a curse, Sophia tossed her gun aside and lunged to stop him. He blocked her with one arm, but he was sitting on the bed, which put him at a disadvantage. He had to drop the picture in order to keep her away from it. Fortunately, it continued to burn where it landed on the floor. He just had to hold her down until it was too late.
“There goes your proof,” he whispered in her ear. “Proof that I got those tits off a porn site on the Internet. At least I made you look good, huh? I could’ve used a picture of some tits that’d been butchered by an implant operation gone wrong. That would cause a stir with all the guys who like to dream about getting in your pants.”
If she could’ve reached her gun at that moment, she might’ve shot him. He’d never seen her fight so hard or become so incensed, but she was no match for his size and strength. The picture was completely destroyed by the time he let go of her and got up to put out the fire that was beginning to lick at the carpet.
Sophia’s chest heaved as she scrambled off the bed and watched him stamp out the ashes. She looked utterly distraught. And that made Leonard happier than he’d been in more than a year.
Victory. At last. He could hardly wait till she saw what he had in store for her next.
When Sophia arrived home, she was wiped out, physically and emotionally. She now knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Leonard was out to destroy her. It was as personal as it could get. But knowing didn’t help. Her life was unraveling so fast Sophia didn’t seem able to stop it. She kept searching for the quickest, surest way of breaking her fall, but she couldn’t grasp so much as a handhold.
Part of her wished she’d shot him. The way he’d taunted her, he’d asked for it. But she was a cop. That meant something to her. It meant she couldn’t abuse her right to carry a firearm, couldn’t abuse her power in any way, or she’d be no better than he was.
She told herself that what he’d done wasn’t the end of the world. That picture was a fake, the type of prank some stupid boy might play in high school. She’d simply deny any wrongdoing, do what she could to silence the rumors and weather the embarrassment. What other option did she have? But none of this would be easy. Everyone she met would wonder if it was true. Her mother would freak out and blame her, maybe quit speaking to her. And it could affect her job. Elizabeth Torres had seen that photo, which might legitimize the gossip, take it beyond the realm of a few guys talking dirty over beer.
Covering a yawn, she shuffled up the walk, her feet feeling like lead. She needed a chance to regroup and recover. But one question made it impossible to put the picture fiasco out of her head: How did Leonard find out about Gary? She doubted her mother had told him. Gary must’ve said something to someone recently, intimated that she’d been receptive to his advances. And Leonard had heard about it, probably at the Firelight, where so much of Bordertown’s gossip got started. That was the only reasonable explanation….
She walked into her bedroom before remembering that she’d let Rod stay the night. Until this second, she’d been too upset to think of anything but Leonard and what he was doing to antagonize her. Now she realized she didn’t even have a bed to fall into.
While she stood in the middle of the room, trying to decide whether she should make Rod move to the couch or sleep there herself, he leaned up on one elbow.
“Hey,” he murmured sleepily and slid over. “’Bout time you got home. You coming to bed?”
He said it as if there was no reason they couldn’t share her bed, and suddenly Sophia couldn’t name one, either. Although his injuries were more visible, she was hurt, too. What would it matter if they curled up together?
“Why not,” she said, and took a pair of boxers and a T-shirt into the bathroom
to change. After hanging her uniform over the door, she crossed the room and climbed into the spot he’d vacated for her.
The residual heat from his body was a welcome contrast to the cool air pumping into the room, courtesy of her hard-working air conditioner. But he didn’t move, didn’t touch her. She was so sure he’d gone back to sleep, she inched closer to his body, searching for the comfort she couldn’t seem to find anywhere else. Somehow it helped just to hear him breathe.
He must’ve felt her move, must’ve sensed that she wanted to be near him, because he rolled over and scooped her up against his side as if they’d been sleeping together for years.
Once she noticed he was partially awake, she thought he might try to kiss her or touch her. She’d certainly made herself accessible, had even slipped one of her legs over one of his.
But he didn’t. “You okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” she lied. “What about you?”
“Better now,” he said with what sounded like a smile, and drifted off to sleep.
It felt good to be held, so good Sophia didn’t want to fall asleep despite the fatigue that had been dragging at her only minutes before. She lay awake for a long time, her head on his shoulder, her arm on his bare chest.
And then she began to crave something far less platonic.
Rod felt Sophia touch him while he was still half-asleep. Her hand traveled across his chest and hesitated briefly on his pectoral muscle before skimming lightly over his nipple. He told himself she was just shifting, trying to get comfortable. He thought maybe she was asleep and didn’t realize that her movements were so sensual. But a second later, he felt her press her lips to the indentation above his collarbone and knew she was doing more than merely seeking a new position in which to sleep.
Should he accept the invitation she was extending?
Should was a difficult word. The answer was probably not. Maybe definitely not. He’d made that decision, hadn’t he? But he’d fantasized about Sophia so many times when he was younger that he knew it would take a stronger man than he was to refuse her. He was already rock hard, already thinking about the moment he’d feel her hips lift to meet his.
Determined to take it slow and savor every second, for old times’ sake if for no other reason, he moved his hand up the back of her shirt to massage the muscles on either side of her spine.
“I thought your offer had been rescinded,” she whispered.
He grinned at the slight taunt in her voice. “And I thought you had to protect your reputation.”
“I don’t seem to have much to lose anymore.”
This sounded more serious than he’d expected. “Something happen tonight?”
“Nothing I want to talk about.”
Should he force the issue? Not now. He had the one person he’d always dreamed about in his arms and she was finally receptive to him. There’d be time to talk later. In the morning. Right now, he preferred to communicate with his hands.
Her breathing grew shallow when he cupped her breast. “You sure you’re not sex-starved?” he teased. “Because it feels that way to me.”
“If I wasn’t, I am now.”
He chuckled at the honesty of her response. Her flesh was so supple, so smooth. But before he took this any further, he wanted her to know she could trust him to keep his mouth shut. “I won’t tell anyone about this, Sophia. This is between you and me, and no one else. I promise.”
“Okay.”
“You believe me?”
Her response was barely audible but sounded sincere. “I do.”
“That’s my girl.”
He wasn’t sure where that last remark had come from. It was a little too possessive; she wasn’t his “girl.” But it’d slipped out, and he chose not to draw attention to it. Instead, he pushed up her shirt and rocked back to see her.
With the blinds drawn it was too dark to admire what she’d shown him earlier. But he didn’t really mind. There was something incredibly erotic about having to rely on his other senses. He could get lost in making love to her without worrying about what his own expression revealed, wouldn’t have to guard himself. That freedom seemed vitally important with Sophia, even though he’d never thought of it with anyone else. Maybe it was because of who she was and what she meant to his past.
Kneeling over her, he bent his head to run his lips across her stomach. He could smell some sort of fruity lotion and liked the scent. When her fingers delved into his hair, he took her hands and held them above her head as he slowly made his way up her abdomen to the tantalizing swell of one breast.
When his mouth closed over her, she shivered and he felt himself letting go, getting caught up in the moment. Suddenly, all that mattered was the way her hands moved to his head when he released them, the taste of her, and the fact that she wanted him.
The girl who’d stood him up for the big dance fifteen years ago, who’d turned up her nose at the half-breed bastard, was now trembling at his touch.
20
The rhythmic pull of Rod’s mouth made heat pool in Sophia’s belly. She liked the way he moved, but the reverence with which he handled her body surprised her. He didn’t treat her as if this was cheap and easy, the means toward an ultimately selfish end. He acted as though every touch, every gasp, meant something.
The problems that had threatened to overwhelm Sophia—the murders, Leonard’s desire for revenge, the fake picture he’d shown at the Firelight—seemed to break up and disperse, float away from her along with all her smaller concerns. Or maybe her problems weren’t going anywhere. Maybe she was. Rod was carrying her to some far distant place, where there were no worries. Only physical sensation. Exquisite sensation.
She caught her breath as his deft fingers slipped beneath the elastic of her boxers. He wasn’t someone who’d be able to give her what she wanted in the long term. She’d known that from the beginning. But he seemed to have exactly what she needed right now.
“You’re perfect,” he said.
She jerked as he touched the most sensitive part of her, and he chuckled softly. “Look what I’ve found.”
“But do you know what to do with it?” she teased.
“I’ll see if I can figure it out. Hmm…”
Darts of pleasure shot through Sophia and she writhed against his hand.
“That seems to work,” he said. “Yeah, you like that.”
She was breathing too hard to speak.
“You’ll let me know when you’re looking for something a little larger, right?”
The way her legs began to shake answered for her—and triggered a powerful response in him. She could sense it.
“You’re so warm. So…wet,” he said, but he wasn’t teasing anymore. The ragged edge to his voice told her he was being swept away, just as she was. He’d started their lovemaking slow and lazy, as if he planned to take hours. But she could already sense his mounting tension, his struggle to retain control of the desperate urge to reach completion. And his arousal excited her more than anything else.
Picturing his handsome face, because she couldn’t actually see it, she arched upward, and he shoved her boxers down over her hips. A moment later, she lost them entirely. Her T-shirt, too. Soon they were both naked, kissing deeply, rubbing and tasting and straining….
“We’ll do it again.” His words sounded more like an apology for being unable to wait. But she wouldn’t have changed anything. She couldn’t resist the compulsion that propelled her forward, either.
Wrapping her legs around his lean hips, she urged him to deliver what he’d promised almost since the day she’d first seen him, at Debbie’s trailer. And he was more than willing to accommodate her. But he tried to do it gently. Supporting the bulk of his weight on his hands, he started to ease into her. But she craved force, wanted to be overpowered.
“Take me now, hard and fast,” she whispered, and that was all the encouragement he needed. Throwing his head back, he drove into her as powerfully as she’d asked him to, again an
d again, stretching, filling, satisfying.
“That’s it—ah, that’s it,” she gasped, and let the natural rhythm of their lovemaking take it from there. She was on a runaway train speeding into the night, and it had never been a more thrilling ride.
The bug he’d planted was too far away to pick up everything. But Leonard didn’t have to hear each moan to know what was going on inside the house. Muted or not, those noises were pretty obvious. The chief of police was getting busy with someone, and it didn’t require much effort to guess who.
With a smile, Leonard started his truck. They were making this almost too easy for him.
It was morning. When Rod lifted his head, he could see the glimmer of sunlight around the blinds. But Sophia was still sleeping.
Shifting carefully so he wouldn’t wake her, he studied her sleeping face and bare breasts in what little light filtered into the room and chuckled as he thought about how freely she’d encouraged him to let go of all restraint. Their lovemaking had been fulfilling. Satisfying. The best. Because she made love as passionately and fearlessly as she did everything else—driving her Harley, wielding that battering ram, showing up at the safe house even though he’d told her not to.
He remembered her chasing him through town the day he’d arrived, lights flashing, siren screaming and blare horn held out the window with one hand. Pull to the side of the road!
“What’s so funny?” she muttered sleepily, but moved the arm she’d flung over her head, covering her chest as if his close perusal made her self-conscious.
He hadn’t realized she was awake. Knowing she wouldn’t find their chase as funny as he did, he wiped the smile from his face and came up with a scowl to replace it. “Nothing. I’m just mad that you didn’t let me get any sleep last night, that’s all.”
She arched her eyebrows at him. “You wanted to make love three times in two hours, and you’re blaming me?”
Running a finger down the length of her tattoo sleeve, he grinned. He hadn’t liked all that ink when he’d first seen it. But he did now. Somehow it suited her. “The room was dark, so I pretended you were someone else.”
