Close To The Edge (Westen #2) (18 page)

“And put Adele Carlisle in danger? The woman is near eighty.” He’d gone back to arching his brow at her, and he’d pressed his lips into that stubborn line again.

“What makes you think she’d be in danger?” Really. No one but him and Cleetus knew who she was and why she was here.

“Look around you, sweetheart.” He spread his arms wide. “Someone believes you have something they want or need. Since you showed up in town, I’ve had one arson fire, one dead body, and now one breaking and entering with willful destruction of property.”

“You think all this was
my
fault?” The nerve of the big lug! “I didn’t do any of this.”

The muscles of his neck worked as he swallowed, took another deep breath and heaved a huge sigh. “Bobby, I didn’t say you were responsible for what’s been going on. The timing suggests your appearance here is the trigger.”

“You think whomever’s behind Harley Evans’ death is also responsible for the arson fire and now this mess? And that they may know why I’m here?” Another shiver ran through her.

“I don’t know. But I do know it’s a lot of coincidence they all occurred since you arrived in town.” He reached out and took her hand in his. “I don’t like this many coincidences. You’ll be safer staying with me until I can figure out what the hell is going on and who’s responsible.”

The way he held her hand securely in his comforted her. When she looked into his dark-green eyes, she saw both concern and tenderness. Had a man ever looked at her like that? Something deep in her heart flipped.

She dropped her gaze first and shrugged. “I’d hate to put Mrs. Carlisle in any danger.”

Gently, he slipped his other hand under her chin and lifted until her gaze met his once more. “Thank you.”

Fighting the desire to throw herself into the safety and strength of his arms, she bit the inside of her lip. “Okay, so what do we do now? Wait for Frank and the crime scene division people to get here and process this stuff before I pack it up?”

A deep rumble started in his chest and filled the air with his laughter as he turned to take in the room. “This isn’t like TV, sweetheart. I doubt anything we found in here would tell us who did this.”

What did he find so funny? “What about fingerprints or DNA?”

He looped one arm around her shoulder and led her carefully through the maze of mattresses and drawers. “This is a motel. Despite Walt and his wife’s best efforts at housekeeping, I doubt they’ve removed fingerprints from every surface after each person checked out. Then there’s the DNA specimens probably left on a nightly basis on the mattresses.”

God, men could be so gross. Bobby pulled away from him and smacked him in the chest. “Please. I don’t even want to think that I slept on them.” This time the shudder running down her skin was from the creeps instead of fear.

“Okay. You pack up your stuff and I’m going to have a look around the outside perimeter.”

“What for?” She followed him to the doorway. “You just said nothing here would be of use.”

“Just looking for tire tracks. I won’t be far.” He retrieved a flashlight from his truck cab, and began methodically searching the gravel parking lot from the hotel room back toward the highway.

For a moment Bobby continued to watch him, listening to the soft crunch of gravel beneath his boots. She shook her head as she started folding her clothes into her suitcase. The man was like a bulldog with a bone sometimes. If she looked in the dictionary for the word intense, she’d find a nice picture of him, grimly set lips and all.

As she made her way through the chaos of the room, collecting her belongings, she quietly catalogued each item in her head. Three pairs of jeans—the skinny-day ones, the fat-day ones and the pair on her body. Four sweaters or pullovers, all in various stages of wrinkles. Her good black pinstriped suit.

“Crap.”

“What?”

Less startled than all the other times he’d snuck up on her, she turned and held out the evidence. “Just look! Whoever destroyed this room mauled my best silk suit just like a day-old newspaper.”

“It’s a suit.” He stared at her like she’d climbed out of a flying saucer from the planet Odd-women-who-worry-about-clothes.

Now that really hacked her off. “This suit cost almost two weeks’ salary!”

“Let me get this straight,” he said with that patiently placating voice men sometimes used when explaining things to women. “You weren’t pissed off because someone broke into your room, rummaged through your belongings and could have hurt you if you’d been here. That’s okay with you. But because he wrinkled some suit you paid way too much for,
now
you’re angry?”

“Yes, I’m angry. I’m angry that someone trashed my belongings. I’m also angry that they trashed this room which will cost Mr. Sanders time and money to fix. If your theory is right, I’m also angry at this person for stealing Harley’s life and setting that fire.” She mopped her eyes and returned to finding all her belongings. “Yes, I’m angry and a little scared. The suit was just the icing on the cake.”

His arms came around her. “I know you weren’t expecting all this when you came looking for adventure, but I promise to keep you safe.”

“How? By keeping me under twenty-four-hour surveillance?”

“If I have to, yes.” He hugged her tighter for a moment then released her. “You just about done now?”

The odd tightness in his voice took the edge off her anger. She focused on gathering up what she could see. “Just about. I suppose if I forgot anything, Mr. Sanders can let me know.”

A knock sounded on the door. They turned to see a man in a deputy’s uniform and holding a camouflage-colored baseball cap in his hand, standing halfway inside the room. He looked to be about thirty-five with dark hair and brown eyes. “Man, someone went a little crazy in here.”

“Wes Strong, meet Bobby Roberts, our newest deputy.”

“Ma’am.” He nodded and lifted the corner of his mouth in a half smile, which didn’t go to his eyes.

“We’re going to gather up her things, and she’ll be staying with me. But I’d like you to make a few rounds here tonight, just to be sure Walt doesn’t have any more trouble.”

“Yes, sir. By the way, I checked with Geraldine Taylor over at the bank to see if Harley called in sick.”

“And?” Gage slipped his arm around Bobby’s waist.

“Someone called Harley in sick, but Ms. Taylor can’t be sure if it was him or not.”

“Great. Let me know if you see anything unusual here, or hear anything more about Harley.”

“Yes, sir.” Wes nodded again, turned and left.

“He’s a very sad man.” Bobby said.

“Dad hired Wes before I came home. He’s ex-military and very closemouthed about his past.”

Once she’d finished packing, paid her bill and was seated in the passenger seat of his truck another idea hit her. “You need to take me back to town.”

“You already agreed not to stay at the Inn,” he said, glancing at her as he drove. The grip of his right hand on the steering wheel tightened the leather beneath his fingers, which creaked slightly in the cab’s silent darkness.

The man certainly knew how to hold his temper. Wonder if he learned it from his years working undercover?

“I haven’t changed my mind.”

“Good.”

The arrogance was back. Well, she hated to burst his man-bubble, but he wasn’t going to like what she said next.

“We need to get my car. It’s still parked outside the bank.”

“It’ll be there in the morning.”

She waited until they reached the red light. They were the only ones at the intersection, but he stopped nonetheless. “Gage?”

He turned to stare at her, giving her his undivided attention. The right-turn signal clicked like a slow metronome.

“My laptop was in the backseat of my car.”

“Oh, hell.” Without saying anything else, he flipped the turn signal to the left, and headed back to town.

***

Now where was the sheriff taking the woman?

Good thing the tweaker did his damage and left before the old man saw them. Meth made them so damn paranoid and out of control who knew what might’ve happened.

Couldn’t follow the woman now. The sheriff might not want the job the council thrust upon him, but no way was he stupid. He’d spot a tail for sure on nearly empty roads.

Think.

The woman hadn’t had anything incriminating among her possessions. If she had anything to incriminate Harley in the land-grab scheme, she had to have it hidden somewhere other than the motel room. The only evidence that anyone knew the property lien wasn’t on the up-and-up had been the letter Harley had at his house. That was no longer a threat.

In fact, at the moment the only threat left to the plan was the nosy woman. If she kept poking her nose in where it didn’t belong, she’d blow the whole operation. The associates wouldn’t like it at all. Nope. Not at all. Something had to be done about her.

She was a piece of work all right. Drove into town this morning and walked into the bank like a regular customer. Smooth.

It would’ve been good to search her car, but with it parked in front of the bank and the deputies making rounds every hour, it wasn’t wise to chance it. Once she moved it to a parking lot out of sight, it could be searched for incriminating evidence.

Of course if the woman and sheriff disappeared completely things could return to normal.

Nothing else to do tonight. Time to go check on production levels for the day.

***

Once they’d retrieved the laptop and discovered no harm had come to Bobby’s car, Gage managed to convince her to leave the car parked two blocks from the sheriff’s office. Despite the devastation they’d found at the motel Gage had to thank the perpetrator for one thing. After their hot, mind-blowing sex earlier, he’d wanted nothing more than to keep her with him until they’d quenched this crazy fire between them. He’d known she would’ve insisted she keep up appearances by staying at the motel. Now, thanks to the perpetrator, she’d be ensconced right in his home.

As he drove through Westen’s deserted streets back to his house, Gage surreptitiously watched her in the truck’s dark cab. She leaned against the door, her face pressed against her hand, her crushed suit and laptop both clutched against her chest with the other.

The sadness in her touched something primal deep inside him.

Someone had hurt her. Someone had dared to invade her privacy, trampled her belongings and scared the hell out of her. He wanted to find the person who did this and return the favor, preferably with both fists.

He gripped the steering wheel tighter.
Concentrate on the road, not the woman. She’s not your responsibility to protect.

He glanced at her once more.

It wasn’t just sadness radiating from her, but fear.

Anger flared inside him. She’d come to his town looking for a little adventure, not real danger. Her simple estate investigation had turned into something darker, something evil. Something that had hovered just under his radar and he hadn’t seen coming in this small, sleepy town. Somehow he’d been lulled into believing this town didn’t have problems like the city did. Her arrival triggered events that put her life in danger and shone a light on a part of his town where darkness lay.

This was his town and his responsibility to protect everyone in it—another glance at her silent figure—especially her. Despite her calm head and cool thinking, Bobby was vulnerable and out of her element.

The primal need grew. He didn’t like it.

“You should go home.”

Her head jerked around. “What?”

“It isn’t safe for you here, now. You should go home and let me handle this. I’ll give you the credit with your sister once I figure out how all this ties together.” He pulled into his drive and parked behind the house once more. They sat in silence for a moment.

“No.” She climbed out of the car and stomped to the back door without waiting for him.

“What the hell do you mean, ‘no’?” He grabbed her suitcase out of the back and strode right up behind her on the porch.

“No, the opposite of yes.” She’d crossed her arms over her chest, still clutching her laptop and that damn suit. She stood looking at him like his eighth grade science teacher.

The upstairs light next door at widow Munroe’s house clicked on and Princess started barking. Great. Just what he needed, an audience.

With a growl of frustration he unlocked the door and waited for her to get her fanny inside. Once inside, he set her suitcase on the table and locked the deadbolt. She moved away from him, her belongings still clutched to her like some magical shield. To protect her from this new fear or him, he wasn’t sure. He wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her.

Instead, he stood across the chasm of the kitchen from her and sucked in a deep, calming breath. “This case is dangerous now.”

“Believe me, after seeing Harley this afternoon and my motel room tonight, I have a clear picture of the situation.”

“Then why are you refusing to leave and let me handle this?”

“Believe it or not, I’d like nothing better than to turn tail and run back to the suffocating confines of my classroom.”

She raised a hand to stop him when he started to agree that’s just what she should do. The honest look in her eyes stilled his words on the tip of his tongue. The least he could do was listen to her.

“When I made the decision to become a PI, it wasn’t just some harebrained idea, despite what you and my sisters believe. I didn’t just choose to do this for the glory. Average people need someone to speak for them, to ferret out the truth. Someone who isn’t obligated only to looking until the letter of the law has been reached, but who’s willing to go the extra mile beyond that.”

“That’s my job, too.” He started toward her, but she shook her head.

“Hear me out. When I came to Westen I didn’t expect to find a dead body. It was supposed to be a simple case. If I turn tail and run because of one dead body and one desecrated suit what does that say about me? I agree this has become a dangerous situation, not exactly what I expected. If I quit now, I’ll always regret it.” She glanced out into the dark night, then back at him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.