Body Heat (Dept 6 Hired Guns 2) - Page 62/103

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 br**sts 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.”

She wasn’t buying it. “You knew exactly who I was,” she said, rolling her eyes.

That was the point. She’d been different from every other woman. Better. But he wasn’t about to admit it.

“You were probably pretending we were back in high school and doing it in the cab of some pickup after the Homecoming Dance. Maybe you were even dreaming that Stuart stumbled upon us. Vindicated at last, right?”

Because she’d hit somewhere fairly close to the truth—he hadn’t needed to pretend they were in high school, but it had been particularly satisfying to get what he’d wanted for so long—he laughed. “Not yet, but it’s not too late.” Rising up on one elbow, he nuzzled her neck. “How ’bout you put on your old cheerleader uniform?”

“I was wondering when we were going to get to that,” she said dryly.

“Without the little panties,” he added.

She hid a yawn. “You have cheerleader fantasies?”

Only when it came to her. “I could put on a cowboy hat and play the wealthy rancher, pretend to be someone you’d consider good enough.”

She winced as though he’d slapped her, and he instantly regretted the barbed reminder. He wasn’t even sure why he’d said it.

“I have to get up,” she mumbled, and moved away from him, taking the bedding with her.

“I didn’t mean anything by that,” he said.

“Yes, you did. You still resent me, still want to punish me for how I treated you in the past. To you, I’m no different from Bruce or Stuart or any of the other Dunlaps.”

“Sophia—”

“Don’t worry about it. You wanted me, and I rejected you. And now you’ve come back to town and nailed the girl who turned you down. Your job is done. Except for rubbing Stuart’s nose in the fact that you got what he wanted, of course. There’s still that to enjoy.”

He sat up. “I said I wouldn’t tell anyone, and I meant it.”

“Go ahead. Like I said last night, I don’t have much more to lose.”

“What were you talking about?” he asked, but he never got an answer. The doorbell interrupted them.

Her gaze darted to the clock—7:10. “It’s too early for visitors,” she murmured, and dropped the bedding so she could pull on some clothes.

She didn’t need to say it. He knew what she was thinking: More murders.

Bruce Dunlap was waiting on Sophia’s doorstep, dressed in his usual—jeans and a golf shirt with cowboy boots. Only today he was also wearing a worried expression. He was about the last person she’d expected to see. He’d never visited her at home. She’d thought it was Officer Fitzer coming by to break some news that was too catastrophic to be shared over the phone.

So what was this? What could Bruce Dunlap possibly want from her?

Self-consciously smoothing down her hair, she glanced at the bedroom door, which she’d closed as she came out. Rod was behind that door. She shouldn’t have let him stay with her, shouldn’t have let herself get intimately involved. She’d known that. He’d come back to Bordertown to prove he was better than everyone who’d once shut him out or looked down on him. And that included her. But she wasn’t going to let him laugh victoriously while breaking her heart.

Good thing her heart had nothing to do with it. She’d wanted what he had to offer last night. It was that simple. She wasn’t willing to torture herself with regret, wouldn’t make it more than it was. As long as she didn’t care about him any more deeply than he cared about her, she’d be fine.

Wondering what Bruce wanted, she opened the door, but because she had his illegitimate son hidden away in her bedroom, she stood in the doorway rather than invite him in. “Bruce. What can I do for you?”

He adjusted his baseball cap. “Sorry to bother you, Sophia, but I stopped by the station to see Officer Fitzer and he suggested I talk to you.”

She couldn’t imagine Joe had meant he should drag her out of bed, but she didn’t mention that. Bruce was obviously upset. “About what?”

“He said you were working graveyard last night.”

“That’s true…”

Drawing a deep breath, he scratched his neck. “You didn’t run into Stuart in town, did you?”

She thought of the vandalized motel room and wondered if Bruce had heard about that but didn’t bring it up in case he hadn’t. She wanted to see where this conversation was going first. “No, I didn’t.” Even after they’d started actively looking for him. “Why?”