Blood And Bone (7 page)

Or the way he reacted when she looked at him, touched him.

With dark, coffee-colored eyes that lifted slightly at the corners, and black, straight hair falling past her shoulders, he’d have to be blind not to find her attractive. Her husky laugh hummed through him like an invisible energy. God, her voice, rich and a little gravelly, could make a dead man come.

He gave his head a shake. She was after a story, and she’d lie to get it. He couldn’t let himself be swayed by a few kind acts and brain-numbing sex appeal. There was more at stake than just him.

He turned off the water and pulled back the curtain. The metal clips scraped against the rod, setting his teeth on edge. Two fluffy, blue towels lay folded over the edge of the sink. Shayne must have left them there when she’d come for his clothes.

After drying himself, he dressed in the blue-plaid pajama pants she’d given him. The cuffs brushed the tile floor, almost covering his bare feet. Who did they belong to? Des had a good four inches on Shayne—if she wore these, she’d have to roll them up or she’d trip. The faded gray sweatshirt was big on him too. She’d be swimming in it.

Was there someone waiting for her at home? Not that it mattered to him. He shook his head, shoving away the mental image of her and some tall, brawny guy with his hands all over her, and forced the muscle in his jaw to relax.

When he returned to the living room, he found a glass of water and two ibuprofen waiting for him on the coffee table. The woman was a saint.

After he swallowed the pills and gulped down the water, he lowered himself to the couch, leaned back and closed his eyes. She shuffled around the kitchen, opening and closing cupboard doors.

“Thanks,” he called out.

The noise stopped and he forced his heavy lids open. She stood at the top of the short set of stairs, arms folded over her chest. “No problem.”

He couldn’t stop himself from letting his gaze travel the length of her firm body. When he finally managed to bring his eyes back to her face, a slight blush tinged her olive cheeks.

He should be the one who was embarrassed, but couldn’t work up the energy.

“I’m putting away some groceries,” she said. “Once we finish with the police, I’ll drive you to your car. If your clothes are dry.”

“The police? What for?”

“Why don’t you want to talk to them? Christ, you look like you were hit by a truck.”

“I told you, there’s no point.”

“Why? What did you do?” Her eyes narrowed. “Sleep with a married woman?”

He snorted, but the shooting pain in his side made him grab his ribs and wince. “Don’t be shy. Feel free to ask me personal questions that are none of your business. The answer’s no, by the way.”

“Did you screw someone on a house or property deal?”

“No.”

“Owe money?”

“Yes, but that has nothing to do with this.”

He should be annoyed by her prying, but the blatant questions amused him. “It’s driving you crazy, isn’t it?”

“Not at all.” She shrugged, turning back to the bags on the counter. “I couldn’t care less.”

“You should phone the cops back and tell them not to bother.”

“
I
wanted to call the police.”

“I told you, there’s no point.”

“Not for you. For me.”

He frowned. “I don’t get it.”

Shayne sighed and came into the living room, flopping down on the ugly gold bucket seat across from him. “Some guy threatened me tonight. He punched my car and kicked in my headlight.”

Anger flashed through him, catching him off guard. Why the hell did he care? She was looking to make money off his mother’s and brother’s murders. If someone threatened her, he should be glad.

“When?” he asked, his voice deceptively calm.

“Right before you happened along. Didn’t you wonder what I was doing standing at the side of the road?”

“Nope. Do you know who he was?”

She nodded. “Actually, you might know him. He works for your grandmother.”

“Hudson.”

“Good guess.”

Shayne held his gaze, trying to gauge his reaction, or would have if he’d given her one. Did he know anything about Hudson’s ambush, or about Tic’s cornering her alone this afternoon, or about last night’s phone call? Des’s bland expression gave nothing away.

“The police won’t do anything,” Des said, his voice flat.

“They’d better do something. He threatened me and vandalized my car.” The mere memory iced her blood all over again. She hated the way that bastard made her feel, small and vulnerable.

“I’m telling you, the police in this town won’t help. It’ll be your word against his.”

What else was he going to say? Hudson worked for his grandmother.

“I’m going to finish putting the food away.”

Des nodded, covering a yawn with his hand. She stood and went into the kitchen, unsure why his reaction bothered her. What had she expected? Undying loyalty because she’d cleaned his cuts and dressed him in her ex’s clothes?

She’d nearly finished in the kitchen when a banging at the front door interrupted her. She set the box of pasta she’d been holding down on the counter. Her stomach tightened. She blamed Des. After all, he’d been the one to claim the police wouldn’t help.

Squaring her shoulders, she marched across the living room to the front door. Her skin tingled from the weight of Des’s gaze. Yeah, well, let him stare. She was about to feed him a large helping of crow.

She turned the knob and yanked open the wooden door. A tall man dressed in a uniform nodded as she opened the screen door.

“I’m Constable Avery. I understand you had some trouble tonight,” he said, his deep voice oddly affected.

“Yes. Please come in.”

Avery swaggered through the door like John Wayne down a dusty road at high noon but froze the minute he spotted Des on the couch. Some of the puff left his chest and his small eyes narrowed. “What the hell are you doing here, Anderson?”

“Long story,” Des muttered, slouching down and closing his eyes. Apparently, he planned to nap through the conversation.

“Well, Miss, let’s hear it.”

Avery’s sharp tone caught her off guard and she stuttered a little as she explained what had happened. He folded his arms over his barrel chest and nodded.

“Did you want to write any of this down?” Shayne asked when she’d finished. Des snorted from behind her.

Avery ignored the question. “Let’s see the car.”

With a sinking feeling, Shayne led Avery outside. The rain had stopped and stars peeked out between the black clouds in the night sky.

Avery inspected the damage, shining the beam of his flashlight on the dent first, then the shattered headlight. “Looks like you got quite a mess here.”

“Yes, it does,” Shayne agreed, struggling to keep her annoyance in check.

Avery straightened and started back to the house. She fell into step beside him, her jaw sore from gritting her teeth.

“You see any of this Anderson?” Avery asked once inside.

“Just the aftermath,” Des told him without opening his eyes.

“Well, I’ll speak to Hudson, but with no witnesses…” Avery shrugged, his expression smug, tone patronizing.

“The man vandalized my property and threatened me.” Her temples throbbed with impotent anger. She glanced at Des. A faint sardonic smile curved the corners of his mouth.

“I’ll do what I can.”

Sure, you will.

Avery returned his attention to Des. “What happened to you?”

“A completely unrelated incident,” Des said.

“Would you like to tell me about it?”

“Nope.”

“I suppose I’m done here.”

“Done?” Shayne threw her arms in the air. “What did you do? Are you even going to file a report?”

“Young lady, if you’re worried about someone threatening you, maybe you ought to be more careful traveling alone at night.” Avery pushed past the screen door and left.

Des sat up and met her gaze. “Would you hate me if I said ‘I told you so’?”

Shayne looked away from the dark road, lit only by her remaining headlight, and turned to Des sitting next to her. Staring out the window at the night surrounding them, he didn’t notice. She returned her attention to the road.

“How did you know Avery would act that way?” she asked.

“A similar experience,” he replied without looking at her.

“Hudson?”

He shook his head and his voice hardened. “No. Someone else.”

“What happened?”

“Doesn’t matter. Just keep in mind, Avery doesn’t like to rock the boat for anyone, but especially not for people just passing through.”

She glanced at him again. “Are you just passing through?”

“God, I hope so,” he muttered.

“How long have been in Dark Water?”

He turned away from the window but didn’t speak. Her gaze shifted to his intense features then back to the road. He probably thought she was digging up information for her book. Her face flushed. She was getting awfully tired of being viewed as some manipulative liar who would use any situation to get what she wanted.

“Six months. I came back in March.”

His reply surprised her. “Did you want to come back?”

He let out a bitter laugh. “No.”

“Why did you?”

“Turn there,” he said without answering.

She pulled into the nearly empty parking lot and stopped the car. When she looked over at him, his expression was pensive.

Nothing about him was what she’d expected. His personality was a fascinating contradiction. Laid back and unaffected one moment, uncomfortable and defensive the next, yet beneath it all he seemed so unhappy.

The urge to brush the hair back from his face caught her off guard. She locked her fingers around the steering wheel until her knuckles whitened.

His ugly station wagon was the only car left in the lot—not at the bottom of the river as he’d predicted.

“Doesn’t look like they did any damage,” she said.

“No.” His tone was flat and his features bland. “Looks as bad as always.”

She waited for him to get out, but he didn’t. Instead, he kept his gaze fixed forward on the ancient car. Only the hum of the car’s engine made any noise.

“Thanks for not leaving me on the side of the road,” he said at last.

“No problem.”

With a curt nod, he grabbed the handle and popped the door open, but instead of climbing out, he hesitated.

“The hell with it,” he muttered, turning until his face was mere inches from hers.

Her breath caught. Her heart stuttered in her chest. What was he doing? If she didn’t know better, she’d swear he was going to kiss her.

He cupped her cheek with one hand, while the other gripped her hip. A slow tingle spread over her flesh. His scent, fresh and clean from the shower, teased her senses.

This was crazy. She started to tell him, but before she could utter a word, his mouth covered hers.

Chapter Five

“Heddra Grey ruled her family like a tyrannical dictator, using any means possible to bend them to her will and maintain her control.”

—
excerpt from
Blood and Bone
by Shayne Reynolds

Shayne’s head spun as Des’s mouth, rough and hungry, moved over hers. His hand at her cheek raked through her hair, grasping the strands in his fist as if to keep her from moving away.

He needn’t have worried.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Craving the feel of him pressed against her, she arched forward, but the seat belt held her in place, driving her half-crazy with frustration. His hand at her hip slid under her backside, gripping and kneading, as his tongue darted into her mouth, tasting her, letting her taste him.

Heat pooled low in her belly, making her wet. God, she wanted him. The force of her need slammed into her like a truck, leaving her weak.

She nipped at his lower lip and he drew back with a sharp hiss. The memory of his battered face had the same effect as a bucket of ice water.

“I’m sorry,” she said, dropping her arms back to her sides. “I forgot your mouth.”

“I don’t care,” he growled, lowering his head and trailing nibbling kisses along her jaw line.

Her skin tingled where his lips touched. If they didn’t stop now, she’d tear off his clothes and take him right there in the passenger seat, battered or not.

What was wrong with her?

“We have to stop.” She pressed against his chest with the flats of both hands.

When he lifted his head, his eyes, dark like a storm at sea, held hers. “Why?”

“Aside from the book I’m writing about your father—” the mere mention of the book had Des back in his seat, “—I just got divorced. You’d be a rebound.”

That smirk she was becoming all too familiar with curved his mouth, and he leaned forward, his lips nearly brushing hers. “Rebound, huh?”

Would he kiss her again? A tiny thrill pulled tightly in her belly.

“That’s right.” Her voice was hoarse.

“We’ll see,” he murmured instead.

Des left the car and sauntered across the empty lot, then slid behind the wheel of the station wagon. The engine roared to life and he honked once before pulling out onto the road and driving away.

With his car out of sight, Shayne rested her forehead against the steering wheel, closed her eyes and released a slow breath.

What had she been thinking? Obviously, she hadn’t been, that was the problem.

His image lingered behind her closed lids as if burned onto her retinas. His too-long hair falling away from his face, high forehead, straight nose, and square chin.

So he was extremely attractive with a certain cynical charm, that still didn’t explain her making out with him in her car like a horny teenager. She knew better.

Maybe she hadn’t been that far off calling Des a rebound. God knew her ego had taken a beating when Travis hooked up with Sandy so fast. She couldn’t deny the painful surprise at finding herself replaced, as though all she’d ever been to Travis was a walking uterus—and a defective one, at that. No doubt the attentions of an attractive, younger man assuaged her wounded self-esteem.

She sat up and opened her eyes. She could analyze the situation until the sun came up—which coincidentally was less than an hour away—but the bottom line was she had a book to write. Whatever strange attraction she was experiencing was completely inappropriate. Des was a source for a story, nothing more. She needed him to help her find Julia at the very least, and in a best-case scenario, to agree to an interview himself. She couldn’t afford to blur the line between them because she was flattered, or because he was a damned good kisser.