by Brenda Novak
With as much dignity and calm as she could muster, she turned to confront Neil. “No, I won’t quit,” she said. “I owe it to the people of this community to protect them as best I can during the coming transition. Maybe you’ve forgotten what’s happening here, but I haven’t. We’ve got at least one killer on the loose. And, as far as I’m concerned, that killer could be Leonard Taylor. You might keep that in mind when you interview him for the position of chief of police, because he’s playing you. He’s playing us all.”
Pivoting once again, she stomped out and slammed the door.
25
Rod was waiting for Sophia when she returned home. Sitting in his Hummer with the seat back, he had his feet up on the dash and was reading the paper. It was getting fairly late—eight-fifteen, according to the clock in her cruiser—but the sun hadn’t yet gone down.
Sophia didn’t know how long he’d been parked in front of her house, but he was the last person she wanted to see. Twisting the rearview mirror toward her, she quickly checked her makeup. Would he be able to tell she’d been crying? Yes… Of course he would. Swollen eyes stared back at her from a splotchy face. Even her nose was red from the number of times she’d blown it since leaving that council meeting.
He opened her door while she took her time collecting her purse and other belongings. “I dropped by the station,” he said. “I thought you’d be starting at eight, as usual. But the place was locked up. What’s going on?”
Briefly protected by the curtain of her hair as it fell forward, she slipped her car keys in her purse. “The sheriff’s office is covering for me tonight.”
“Why?”
She found a pair of sunglasses and put them on before looking up. “We contract with them to patrol whenever we need the extra help. Unless someone dials the station’s direct line, all emergency calls go through their dispatchers anyway.”
“So you have the night off.”
“Basically.”
“But…what’s going on?” He hesitated. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“You haven’t been answering your cell.”
“I turned it off.”
“What if there’d been a break in the case?”
“Which case?” They seemed to be piling up. Maybe the council had been right to fire her….
“Either case.”
“That would take luck. Something I don’t seem to have at the moment.” She attempted a laugh, but it didn’t sound very convincing.
“This isn’t over yet,” he said. “We’re going to find the son of a bitch who’s killing illegal aliens. And we’re going to figure out who shot Stuart. You can’t expect too much too soon. These things take time.”
That was the one commodity she didn’t have. Not anymore. In just four weeks someone else would take over. Where would she go then? What would she do? Until those poor victims in the desert had forced her to question her investigative abilities, she’d thought she’d found her niche in life. “We’ll see.”
Hoping to step around him and into the house before he could get a good look at her, she got out of the car. But he blocked her path and caught her chin, tilting it up so he could see her face. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
He removed her sunglasses. “Sophia—”
Grabbing the glasses, she pulled out of his grasp. “What does it matter to you? You’ll either solve these murders or you won’t. And then you’ll leave and go back to your other life, in which Bordertown will cease to exist for you. You’ll be able to go on, completely unaffected by events here and you won’t have to live with the aftermath.”
“You think I’ll be able to forget that Stuart was murdered? That my father suspects I did it?” He strode after her.
“You don’t care about your father’s opinion, remember?” she replied, tossing the words over her shoulder.
“Maybe I’m not quite as indifferent as I’d like to believe. Have you ever considered that?”
“No.” She was safer not to consider it. Because then she’d start hoping that he did care. About her.
He followed her into the house, pausing to shut the door with his foot. “What went wrong today? I mean, besides the obvious.”
She hurried into the kitchen without stopping. “They fired me, okay? I have thirty days while they interview possible replacements.”
He nearly missed a step. “You’re kidding.”
“That wouldn’t be my idea of a joke. Although this should be funny—I bet it’ll be Leonard Taylor who replaces me.”
A frown tugged at his lips as he shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against the doorway. “Come on, they couldn’t be that stupid.”
“Wanna bet? He’s been talking big, telling everyone that he could’ve solved these murders weeks ago. That Stuart never would’ve been killed if he’d been chief of police.”
“That’s easy to say when you don’t have to prove it.”
“Doesn’t matter that it’s all talk. It’s what they want to hear. Think about it. The council’s so desperate they’re searching for a savior, and he’s setting himself up as just that.”
“Which has given his supporters a chance to gain power again and reverse everything that happened when you were hired.”
“Exactly. But it’s all good for you, right?”
His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by that?”
“Your revenge is complete. Not only did you bag the girl who stood you up for Homecoming, you stuck around long enough to see it ruin her career.”
His frown darkened into a scowl. “That’s not what I wanted. Besides, I didn’t tell anyone, you did.”
She slumped into a chair. “I know,” she said miserably.
“Why’d you do it?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I couldn’t let them continue investigating you when I knew you weren’t involved.”
“Yes, you could have. They wouldn’t have been able to pin Stuart’s murder on me.”
Pressing a finger and thumb against her closed eyelids, she shook her head. “Innocent people go to prison all the time, Rod. Why take the chance?”
The difficult-to-read front he sometimes maintained slipped, giving her a glimpse into the far more accessible, maybe even vulnerable, man she’d made love with last night. “Because, contrary to what you might think, I don’t want to be responsible for this,” he said.
She dropped her hand so she could look at him—and recognized that, even now, after her whole world had collapsed, she wanted to touch him. And she wanted it more than last night.
“How ironic,” she muttered.
His eyebrows came together. “What’s ironic?”
“Nothing,” she said, but she found all of it ironic. For years, she hadn’t been able to summon much passion for the men she dated, hadn’t even realized it was passion that was missing. Not until Rod had walked back into her life had she felt so compelled to be with someone.
She was finally tempted to love—the one person most likely to hurt her.
“Why are you here?” she asked. “What do you want from me?”
He crossed the room and squatted in front of her. “I’m sorry.”
Sophia wasn’t sure why he was apologizing. For the resentment he felt toward her? For giving her mixed signals, treating her as if he couldn’t keep his hands off her one minute and snubbing her the next? For being part of the reason she’d lost her job?
Maybe that “I’m sorry” was meant to cover it all.
She told herself to accept his apology and let it go at that. If she was careful, maybe she could finish out her month without making her situation any worse. It was even possible they’d solve the UDA murders or Stuart’s murder or both, as he’d said. Then she could probably get a recommendation and find a job somewhere else.
But she didn’t speak. She couldn’t come up with the right words. Instead, she raised her hand and ran her fingers down the side of his face, feeling the rugged contours, the prickly
beard growth and, eventually, the softness of his mouth.
His eyes drifted closed as she touched him.
“You’re so handsome,” she said.
Parting his lips, he flicked his tongue against the pad of her thumb, and that was all it took for desire to swallow Sophia’s other, far more conflicting emotions. “And you’re dangerous,” she added.
His hand went behind her neck, bringing her mouth to his for the lightest, sweetest kiss she’d ever had. “I’m harmless,” he whispered. Then his tongue met hers and five minutes later he had her naked on the living room floor.
Rod didn’t want to think about what he was doing, didn’t want to examine the consequences. He knew he shouldn’t be forming any ties to Bordertown. His goal, from the beginning, had been to break free. He’d only come back to do his duty by his mother’s people—to stop a killer—and, at the same time, celebrate the fact that he’d escaped so cleanly.
Instead, he was celebrating the feel of the girl he’d always wanted clinging to him with her bare skin against his. Why couldn’t he resist her? It wasn’t, as he’d thought before, that he had something to prove to Stuart. Stuart was gone for good. Rod couldn’t even claim he was acting to satisfy the promise of a dream long denied. He’d fulfilled that promise last night.
So what the hell was he doing? Sophia belonged to his past, and yet, when he made love to her, he forgot all the reasons he wanted to turn his back on her. The rise and fall of her chest, her hands clutching his hair, her mouth moving greedily on his—these were the only things that seemed important.
Outside, the sun was beginning to set, but enough light filtered in that he could see her, and of that he was glad. Last night he’d welcomed the darkness. It had allowed him to hide what he wasn’t ready to reveal. This time, he didn’t have that same need. He wasn’t sure what Sophia meant to him, but she meant something, and he wasn’t afraid to let her know. Whatever they had, for however long it lasted, he wanted it to be honest.
“You make me forget,” he murmured against her neck.
She angled her chin. “Forget what?”
Smiling at her breathless response, he pinned her hands above her head and pulled back to admire her. “Everything.”
As she gazed up at him with her hair fanning out on the floor, her body glistening with a damp layer of sweat and her pupils so dilated that her eyes looked black, he thought she had to be the most striking woman he’d ever seen. He even liked her tattoo sleeve because it was so much a part of who she’d come to be.
A crease in her forehead told him she wasn’t quite sure how to take his words. But she didn’t question him. “You make me remember,” she said.
He wondered where she was going with this. “Remember what?”
A faint smile curved her lips. “Everything.”
He didn’t ask her to explain. Whatever they felt, it was too new to define. It was there. They’d acknowledged it. That was enough.
“Good. Then remember this,” he said, and bent to kiss her again.
It had grown completely dark outside, but Sophia was still on the living room floor with Rod. She was too exhausted to move, even to the bedroom. She’d known she was under a lot of pressure, but she hadn’t realized just how heavy the burden of her job had been until that burden was removed. The UDA murders would become someone else’s problem soon. The fight was over. She’d lost—but at least it was over, right?
Maybe she’d move out of state, she decided. Sell everything she couldn’t fit on her Harley and go wherever the road took her….
“What are you thinking?” Rod murmured. He’d dozed for the past half hour or so while she’d been absently running her fingers through his hair and staring at the shadows cast by the rising moon.
“Montana.”
He lifted his head from her shoulder. “Montana?”
“I’m wondering if I’d like it up there.”
“You’re planning to move?”
“After everything that’s happened, I don’t think I want to stick around here.” Her heart nearly broke when she thought about Rafe. He’d be homesick for her by the time he returned from camp. And where would she be? Packing, with only a few weeks left in town?
No, more than a few weeks. She’d need to sell her house. She couldn’t move right away. But she’d have to make a change fairly soon. Without substantial savings, she wouldn’t have enough money to last long….
Hoping to put off difficult decisions, she squeezed her eyes shut. But there was no avoiding the truth. She couldn’t leave Bordertown without feeling she’d abandoned Rafe, which she’d promised herself she’d never do. She knew what it felt like to be abandoned, emotionally if not physically. And yet she couldn’t be happy living among the people who’d let her down so terribly….
“It’s a lot colder in Montana,” Rod pointed out. “You don’t want to go there.”
“Everywhere’s colder than here. Except…I don’t know…maybe Africa.”
“You wouldn’t mind leaving your mother?”
She wanted to mention Rafe, but wasn’t positive he’d understand. And why bother? She doubted he’d be around long enough for her bond with Rafe to become an issue. “Our relationship is…complicated. Sort of like your relationship with Bruce.”
“Bruce and I don’t have a relationship.”
“But you’re not quite as indifferent as you’d like to believe, remember?”
“I wasn’t referring to him.”
Smiling at the implication, she continued to thread her fingers through his thick hair. “I can tell you one thing—I wouldn’t mind leaving my stepfather.”
“Did you ask him why his number was in that safe house?”
“No. First, I want to go through his office at the feed store.” She told Rod about her aborted efforts at her mother’s place, and finished by saying, “All his bank statements and business documents are at the store. If there’s anything that’s going to reveal his connection to the safe house, I’m guessing it’ll be there.”
“What about the gun you found?”
“What about it?”
“We should test it.”
“You think Gary could be the UDA killer?”
“After what you told me about him, I wouldn’t put it past him.”
“Sexually unscrupulous doesn’t automatically equate with murder.”
“It proves a lack of integrity. And we did find his number at the safe house. Besides, the murder weapon is the same make, model and caliber as his. That’s a bit coincidental right there. Why not have a ballistics expert take a look?”
“He’s not racist enough to have killed those immigrants.”
“How do you know?”
“He likes Mexico. The people. The culture. He taught himself the language, and he always wants to vacation there. He’s already talking about going to Rocky Point for Christmas.”
“I still think we should do some testing.”
She pursed her lips, considering it. “I suppose we could ask him to turn the gun over to us voluntarily. But I doubt he will. He’ll use it as yet another example to show my mother that I’m out to get him.”
Rod’s breath fanned her cheek as he placed tiny kisses along her jawline. “We might be able to get a warrant.”
“Owning a Glock isn’t illegal, not if he has a permit. And it’s not as though the judge is remotely sympathetic to our cause.”
“If Special Agent Van Dormer will step in, we could go federal. That might help.”
She didn’t respond. She was battling a fresh wave of frustration and disappointment. Just when she thought she’d given in and succumbed to her fate, planned her motorcycle escape into the wild blue yonder, she realized she wasn’t willing to let her days in Bordertown end so negatively. She was too much of a fighter. Besides, she couldn’t really bring herself to leave Rafe behind. What’d happened to her had left too deep a scar to do the same to him.
Rod rolled up on his elbows. “Sophie, you still with me?”
“Sophie?” Only her mother and Rafe ever called her that.
“It’s an endearment. You don’t like endearments?”
“I don’t mind them if you don’t, Roddy.”
Laughing, he stole one of her throw pillows, then blocked the punch she tried to land to his ribs. “Whoa! So much hostility.”
“You deserve it. You cost me my job.” She knew that wasn’t strictly true. News of her and Rod had only been the proverbial “last straw,” but it felt better to blame someone. Maybe it would shore up some of her crumbling defenses where he was concerned.
He tweaked her nipple. “No, the fact that you couldn’t resist me cost you your job.”
“What are you talking about? I can resist you.” She feared it was a lie, but it was a lie she wished he’d believe.
“If I remember correctly, you made the first move.”
“After you strategically placed yourself in my bed!”
“Strategically?” He feigned shock. “I was injured.”
She rolled her eyes. “Tell the truth. You weren’t that injured. You were hoping to get laid.”
“True, but I had no idea that plan would work so well,” he said with a chuckle. “Anyway, don’t worry. I’m going to help you get your job back.”
“How, exactly, do you plan to do that?”
“We’ll solve the case within the next thirty days. Then, even if they boot you out, you can feel good about what we accomplished. What do you say?”
She nudged his hand away from her breast. He drove her crazy, but he made her happy, too—odd, since she should be in the depths of despair after losing her job. And yet when she was with Rod, all she could think about was the way he made her feel and how much she enjoyed his company. “I say you’re dreaming.”
“Not necessarily.”
“Not necessarily? What have we got so far? Disgruntled ranchers who are irate over the loss of one of their own, as well as having their property damaged. Border patrol agents who are tired of rounding up UDAs only to see them attempt another crossing the very next night. Racists who’d sooner shoot a Mexican than look at one. Political enemies who’d love nothing more than to run me out of town.” She considered her list. “We haven’t even begun to narrow it down. Which group should we focus on first?”
