Don’t be a coward.
Yeah, right. Look at the man. Nothing but solid muscle and steel for a backbone. If I mention the cell, he’s more than likely to toss me back in for the night.
All ready feeling the walls crowding in around her, she struggled to drag in a deep breath. Don’t think about being locked in such a tiny closet of a place, just ask him. You owe Cleetus that much.
She shoved the whole little-closet image to the back of her mind. “Um, Cleetus is a very nice man.”
“That he is,” the sheriff said as he grabbed another pile of manila folders from the floor and shoved them haphazardly into a drawer. Apparently, he was no more concerned with proper filing than his dispatcher, who at least had some sort of system.
Bobby typed another few lines and swallowed again. “I hope you won’t hold it against him that he let me help find this missing information you needed.”
Good girl, make him feel you were helping, and it was all for his benefit. Nothing like a little indebtedness to prevent him from locking her back in the slammer.
He shoved some more files into a drawer before turning to fix his cool green gaze on her. She tried to ignore the butterflies jumping around in her stomach.
“Technically, Cleetus followed my orders exactly. I told him you weren’t to leave.” The left corner of his mouth turned upwards. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”
Air caught in her throat. She exhaled and took another breath before answering. “Yes, I am.”
“Guess I don’t see a reason for me to punish Cleetus, do you?”
God, she hated to ask this. “Does this mean I’m free to go?”
“Perhaps.”
Leaning one arm on top of the file cabinet, he continued to watch her like a giant cat waiting for his prey to make the wrong move. Her mouth grew dry once more and she nervously pulled her lower lip between her teeth. The only noise in the office was the low hum of the computer’s tower and the gentle whirring of the ceiling fan.
Suddenly the office’s front door opened. “Gage, I need that monthly traffic—” the man stopped mid-sentence. He appeared to be in his forties with salt-and-pepper hair, deep-blue eyes and movie-star good looks. He fixed his attention on Bobby, flashed her a toothpaste-commercial smile and approached with his hand extended. “Well, hello. I’m Mayor Tobias Rawlins.”
“I’m Bobby Roberts.” She shook his hand, expecting it to feel soft and sweaty, like a sleazy politician, but instead it was firm and very masculine.
“I didn’t know Gage had hired a secretary.” He moved closer, still holding her hand.
Blushing, she gently pried it loose. “Oh, he didn’t hire me.”
“Bobby is just helping out.” Gage stalked over and stepped between them.
Bobby studied the two men a minute. Neither seemed to like each other. She wasn’t too experienced at reading testosterone levels, but if they could be measured on a Richter scale, they’d probably just jumped to a five. Not devastation level, but high enough to get your attention.
The sheriff folded his arms in front of him. “Bobby volunteered to help Cleetus with the report for tonight’s meeting. You didn’t need to come get it. I’d planned to bring it with me, Tobias. Was there something else you needed?”
The other man stepped backward. “I heard someone was prowling around out behind the bank today. Did you find out who it was?”
Great. This was Gage’s chance to inform the mayor he’d arrested her.
“Far as I could tell it was just someone who should’ve been in school messing around,” he said instead.
Bobby bristled at the veiled insult. She resisted the urge to take the pencil on the desk and poke Gage in the back with it—hard.
“Okay. I’ll see you tonight at the town-council meeting.” Tobias turned to leave, pausing to hold the door open. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Bobby Roberts. I hope to see more of you around town.”
“I’m sure you will, sir. And it was very nice to meet you, too.” She smiled and waved at him.
Once the door closed, Gage glanced over his shoulder. “You can cut the charm, Ms. Roberts. You’re not staying in town long enough to win the Mayor’s attention.” Ice filled the sheriff’s voice. He turned and placed both hands flat on the desk and leaned toward her. “You need to go home before you get into some real trouble.”
Okay, she’d had enough of his boorish treatment today. She hit save and print on the computer.
The man had some nerve. He might not take her detective work seriously, but she was tired of him using his size to intimidate her. Slowly, she pushed the rolling chair back and stood. She placed both her hands flat on the other side of the desk, straightened both her arms and leaned forward, meeting him nose to nose.
“No, Sheriff Justice, I don’t. I came to town to do a job. And just like you, I keep my promises. When I find the information my client needs I’ll leave. And not a moment sooner.”
The second hand on the wall clock ticked by a full minute. They stood there, nearly touching, each measuring the other’s determination.
Damn, the woman had backbone. Gage would give her that. He hadn’t been this intrigued or exasperated by a woman, ever. He owed her some slack after manhandling her today.
Slowly, Gage backed away from the desk. “I can’t make you leave, but I don’t want you digging around anymore in people’s trash. Be here tomorrow morning and we’ll discuss your case.”
“Really?”
He almost laughed at her surprise. She hadn’t expected to win their little battle of wills. He’d hate to burst her bubble that she really hadn’t. The sooner he solved her case for her, the sooner he could get her out of town and out of his mind.
“My gun?” She held out her hand.
“For now I’ll just hold onto it.” Her eyes narrowed and he held up his hand to stall her argument. “You can have it back tomorrow after we talk. Get the rest of your things and I’ll give you a lift over to your car.”
“You don’t have to do that. I can find my way back over to the bank.” She got her keys out of her purse and started for the door.
“That’s nice to know, but your car isn’t parked in the alley behind the bank anymore.”
That stopped her escape mid-stride. “What? You told me it would be safe there.”
“No, I told you no one would break into it and steal your things.” He opened the door and held it for her. “Your vehicle was blocking the alleyway, so I had Bill Johnson tow it over to his garage for everyone’s safety.”
She shoved one hand onto her hip and fixed him with a very angry stare. “Great. And how much is this going to cost me?”
“Nothing. You can think of it as an added feature of spending time in Westen’s jail. A room for you and boarding for your car.”
Her eyes narrowed. “If that was a joke, it wasn’t the least bit funny.”
“Come on. I’ll give you a ride over to Bill’s. It’s about four miles out of town.”
She considered his offer a moment longer. With a nod, she pulled her purse strap tighter on her shoulder and walked past him. The soft scent he’d smelled this afternoon when he’d held her tickled his nose as she passed by. He resisted the urge to pull her back and into his arms. Something as soft and no doubt innocent as Bobby Roberts had no place in his life.
“Where’s your car?” she asked as he pulled the office door shut and locked it.
“Right there.” He pointed behind her.
She turned, stared at the big black-and-chrome motorcycle and took a step backward as if it would jump the curb and bite her. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Lady, when it comes to my Harley, I’m deadly serious.” He straddled the machine, started the engine and held out his helmet to her. When she stood frozen in place he grinned at her. “Don’t tell me the big, bad private detective is a coward?”
When her eyes narrowed again, she resembled one pissed-off kitten ready to hiss or scratch his eyes out. Instead she lif
ted her purse, slipped the strap over her head so the leather crossed her chest between her breasts. The action pulled the sweater blouse tight across them and gave him a good idea how they’d fill his hands without being too much to handle. He shook off the image as she took his helmet and pulled it on. She straddled the bike behind him, sitting as far from him as she could, trying not to touch him except where her thighs rested against the outside of his.
He glanced back over his shoulder. “You might want to hold on to something.”
“That’s okay. I’m just fine.”
Fine, his ass.
Her back straight, her hands in her lap, once again she looked like a prim and proper schoolteacher. Given her new career choice—and there was no way she’d convince him she’d been a detective for very long—he wondered if she might have a wild side hidden beneath the surface. Time to put her to the test.
He gunned the engine and peeled away from the curb.
“Oh crap…” she shrieked behind him and clutched at his shirt.
With one hand, he pried her fingers loose and pulled her forward, until her chest pressed the entire length of his back, and she had both arms wrapped securely around him.
“You did that on purpose,” she yelled over the motorcycle’s roar.
“You were being stubborn,” he yelled back and sped down Main Street.
The cool spring air whipping past them and the engine’s rumble beneath them blocked any further conversation. At the last traffic light, he turned left to head toward the highway that passed just north of town. As he leaned the bike into the turn Bobby’s arms tightened around him. He grinned more. He’d lay money that she’d never been on a chopper in her life.
As they flew across the highway, an eighteen-wheeler passed them going the opposite way. The gust of wind blew the bike sideways, but years of practice let him control it with ease. Behind him, Bobby clutched him tighter. He grinned with satisfaction when she buried her head against his shoulder. He’d swear he heard her cussing, but the words were muffled. After a minute she lifted her head and relaxed a little. He missed the warmth of her pressed tight to his body.
All too soon, Bill’s service station and auto repair came into view. Gage let up on the gas, slowing the bike before pulling onto the semi-broken asphalt on the shoulder of the road. He maneuvered onto the pothole-riddled drive into Bill’s place. All the lights were out, signaling that Bill had closed shop for the night. Gage drove right up beside Bobby’s car and turned off his engine.
“Jail-to-car service,” he said, just to get a rise out of her.
“Don’t quit your day job, comedian.”
The censure in her voice almost made him laugh. She wiggled back on the bike and climbed out from behind him. For a second her legs wobbled, and he reached out to steady her. “Whoa there.”
Her body swayed toward him, and he instinctively wrapped his arms around her. Her hand rested on his shoulder, her head bent. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’ve never been on a motorcycle before. It was…”
He grinned at her. “Frightening?”
She lifted her head, her eyes sparkling. “No, exhilarating. I’d love to do it again sometime.”
He drew back a little, surprised.
She pulled off the helmet and shook out her hair. Blood surged right down to his groin and he tightened behind his zipper. She was too tempting.
With a saucy wink, she patted his shoulder and stepped out of his arms, which suddenly felt empty. To keep from reaching for her, he dropped his hands to his thighs and gripped them while he watched as she walked around the bike to her car. Despite her bravado, he couldn’t help noticing her gait was just a little bit on the shaky side.
He waited for her to pull out, noting her rear vehicle tag was from Hamilton County in southern Ohio.
Wonder where she’s staying?
She headed farther down the highway, away from Westen and the Inn. Dread tickled his mind. Surely she wasn’t headed to the local motel two exits down, but staying in Columbus at a safer one. It was only about an hour’s drive.
He started his bike once more, pulled out and followed her at a safe distance. He’d just make sure she’d had sense enough to stay in the city in a big hotel.
Two minutes later her car turned off the highway into the motel’s parking lot. Gage cursed a blue streak. He pulled into the lot in just enough time to see her close her room door behind her.
For a moment he sat in the parking lot, studying the layout, the engine still purring beneath him. The motel itself was clean and well maintained. He knew the owner personally. His dad had even gone to church with Walt and Mary Lou. Problem was, the motel sat next to a gas station and all-night diner, which made their clientele mostly truckers and strangers passing through town. Even with the best security, a woman staying in an isolated area with who knew what kind of men in nearby rooms had the potential for disaster.
He revved the engine, turned his bike and headed back to Westen. The town council meeting started in thirty minutes.
So much for dinner.
The town was his responsibility, not Bobby Roberts, PI. Besides, it was only for one night. Tomorrow he’d see that she finished her business in town. Then he’d ship the little lady back to whatever suburb she’d wandered out of— safe, sound and with all her body parts still intact.
Bobby let the corner of the curtain fall back over the window ledge once the sheriff’s motorcycle turned out of the parking lot onto the highway.
Pacing the short length of the motel room she slapped her hands against her thighs and let her anger surge.
“Who does he think he is? The man had some nerve following me to my motel.”
What did he think she was going to do, break into the bank in the middle of the night? She was a private investigator, not a criminal. Although by the way he treated her, you’d think she was kin to Bonnie and Clyde.
“Ugh.” She slumped down on the bed and threw her arm over her eyes.
Her first day as a PI and things hadn’t gone nearly as smoothly as she’d expected. She’d believed the easiest way to find some bank information would be to search through the trash. Well, she really hadn’t found more than rotted produce from the grocery on the other side of the alley.
But she had landed in the arms of a very solid man.
Suddenly, the whole thing turned funny. A giggle escaped her. The look on his face when she’d landed in his arms had been so sexy, and the next moment he’d been as cold as a human ice sculpture.
“Oh, God!” She started laughing harder, tears filling her eyes. She’d even managed to pick a banana peel off his shoulder.
The muffled sound of her cell phone’s ringtone sounded from her purse. Drying her eyes, she retrieved it halfway through the second round of “Wild Thing”. She looked at the caller ID.
Great. Chloe. Just the person she didn’t need to talk to right now.
“Hello.”
“Hey, Sis. How’s it going?”
Disastrously. I’m getting nowhere fast.
“Good,” Bobby lied. “I’m in Westen and have met with the local sheriff.” Well, technically she’d met him, and she did have a meeting set up for tomorrow.
“Anything interesting happen on the case today?”
Let’s see, first I went dumpster diving. Then I fell on top of six feet, three inches of solid man, who handcuffed me and dragged me off to jail. Next, I decoded a secret filing system the Nazis would’ve envied. And finally had my first ride on a motorcycle straddled on behind the most infuriating and delicious man I’ve ever been near.
“Nope, nothing really interesting happened today.”
“Any luck with the bank finding those letters?” Chloe munched onto something hard on the other end of the line.
“Are you eating Doritos?”
“Um, yes.”
“Is that dinner? How can anyone stay as thin as you, eating nothing but junk food all the time?”
“Lucky genes, I guess.”
“Rub it in.”
It did help that her sister was nearly five feet, ten inches tall. Both Chloe and Dylan were. She, on the other hand, had been blessed with their mother’s height of almost five-five if she teased her hair, and had to watch everything that went into her mouth.
“Besides, it’s not dinner. Just something to tie me over. I’ve been in court all day and I need something before I drive home. My blood sugar is probably nil at the moment.” Chloe slurped into a straw in her ear. “Didn’t I move out of your house four years ago? You aren’t supposed to be playing mom anymore. Wasn’t that the whole point of you doing this PI thing for me? So you could finally live a life with some fun and adventure?”
Bobby lay back on the bed again. Chloe had a point. She’d put her life on hold for eighteen years to raise her two sisters. “You’re right. It’s not my responsibility anymore to be your mother. If you want to eat junk food night and day, it’s not my problem. Just don’t come crying to me when your metabolism slows down.”
“You can’t guilt me out of it either.” Chloe munched in her ear again. “So, what have you learned about Mr. Byrd’s bank loan?”
“Today I mostly got some background information from the local deputy. He confirmed what your Norman Byrd told us. Mr. Byrd was a loner and lived all his life on his farm outside of town. As for the letters, I’ll try to find them tomorrow.”
“Mm-hmm. My client is Mr. Byrd’s only blood relative, but he hadn’t seen him since he was a small child. Did the deputy know anything about the supposed bank loan? Norman swears his uncle won’t have anything to do with banks.”
That was the whole crux of her case. Norman Byrd swore there was no way his uncle would get a bank loan with his land as collateral and he’d hired Chloe’s firm to prove the fact. Bobby was sure Cleetus had no idea what kind of loans or business the elder Mr. Byrd had participated in.
“No. He didn’t strike me as one who’d pry into people’s financial records. I’ll stop by the bank tomorrow and see what I can find out from them.”
Close To The Edge (Westen #2) Page 4
