Gambling on a Dream (13 page)

She fell onto him and buried her face into his neck. He brought his hands slowly up her back and threaded his fingers into her honeysuckle-scented hair. He had no idea how long they stayed like that, the only sounds being their rapid heartbeats, ragged breathing, and the refrigerator kicking on and running.

Then reality smacked him between the eyes.

What the hell had he done?

Oh, hell.

Dawn shivered from the cool air hitting her naked back as much as from the realization she’d had sex with Wyatt.

Had she used her body to comfort a man who could never love her?

Shifting off his lap, she reached for the afghan folded over the arm of the couch. She turned her back to the man she’d just played cowgirl with and wrapped the soft wool around herself.

She closed her eyes and tried to forget the intense pleasure she’d experienced with him and the hollow emptiness that now replaced it.

She suspected the rustling sounds behind her were from Wyatt getting dressed. During the intervening eternity of dead silence, she remembered she still had to feed her horses, and poor Taco scratched at the screen door.

Thinking about the mundane was easier than concentrating on the sensations of his essence on her inner thighs and the chill settling in where only moments before there had been burning heat.

He cleared his throat, and she forced her eyes open, then looked over her shoulder. Wyatt stood completely dressed, but his cheeks were still flushed from the strain of what they’d done.

Handsome as the devil her people had long considered the White Man of being.

“
Some white men still think all we are good for is lying on our backs with our legs open.
”

But what if he was the one on his back? She could almost hear her mother’s response.
Semantics.

“I… eh…” He stabbed all ten fingers into his tussled hair.

God, if he said he was sorry, she’d break right here and now.

The phone rang, but she ignored it, letting the machine pick up.

She turned, gripping the ends of the blanket that covered her from shoulders to feet, but she was still naked to him in a way going beyond nudeness. Her soul was on display.

She closed her eyes and waited for him to leave.

“
Sheriff, this is Tilly. I convinced Tyler Demello to talk to us. He’ll be here in an hour. I notified the DA and the Rangers. Call the station.
”

“Hey.” She swallowed, hoping her tongue would form the words she needed it to. “I’ll see you around. I have to feed the horses and call Tilly to find out what’s going on.”

Her legs threatened to crumble, but somehow she managed to sound normal as if they’d spent the afternoon sipping beer and talking motorcycles.

His gaze slid from hers, and he nodded. “Dawn… Thank you for being here.”

Oh, sweet God, that was worse than
I’m sorry
.

Slipping in past Wyatt when he left, Taco barked, then pressed against Dawn’s leg. As Wyatt’s Harley roared to life outside, Dawn sniffed and shook herself into action. Looking down at the dog, she realized how lonely she was and how much she wished things could be different between her and Wyatt.

That was the reason she so easily gave herself to him. He’d come to her during what was a painful time, and she’d let the feeling of connecting emotionally with him carry her away.

Dawn… Thank you for being here.

Her mother was right. All he would ever want from her was sex.

And like the damned fool she was, she easily gave it to him.

“C’mon, girl, let me get you some dinner. Then it’s back to work for me.”

Thank God.
If she was lucky, tomorrow, she’d be there all night and day too. When she finally came home, she’d be so tired she wouldn’t have the energy to think about how stupid she was, or how good Wyatt McPherson felt buried within her.

Taco wiggled her tail and let out a happy bark.

Too bad her life couldn’t be as easy as her faithful old puppy’s.

* * * *

An hour and half later, Dawn walked into her office, with Tilly trailing behind. She picked up Demello’s file from her desk and turned to face her second in command. “Is he in the conference room?”

Tilly nodded. “The DA will be here in a few minutes.”

“What about the Ranger?” She fished in her desk drawer for a pen. As she scribbled on a scrap of paper to make sure it worked, she looked up, and her stomach folded in on itself.

“I’m here.” Wyatt entered and removed his hat. He must have gone home and showered, because his hair was still a little damp and curled at the ends. He’d also changed into dark jeans, a white western shirt, and leather vest. His silver peso star pinned to the left side of the vest winked brightly when it caught the overhead light.

Tilly pursed his lips. “What are you doing here? I thought you were on vacation. I heard about Rachel. She’s in mine and Barb’s prayers,” he said, referring to his wife as he patted Wyatt’s shoulder.

He cleared his throat and looked everywhere but at her as he spoke. “As for the vacation, Captain Rider called me and told me he yanked my request this afternoon. Said, since the sheriff and I have worked together before and drugs are involved, I’m too perfect for the case to let loose.” He rubbed his neck. “As for Rachel, thanks. She needs all the prayers she can get.”

Tilly nodded and clearly wondered by the narrowing of his eyes what Wyatt was doing here and not at the hospital, but he didn’t ask.

She wasn’t that polite. “Why are you here… and not with your family?”

He shrugged and fiddled with his hat by turning it around in his hands by the brim. “Only Mom and Dad could see her tonight. Audrey and Lance are with them, and I hate hospitals too much to hang out there. I figured I would be of better use here.”

Dawn’s legs threatened to give out. She sat in the chair behind her desk and opened the file, although her vision was too blurred to see the paper of the report, let alone the writing on it.

How was she going to work with him after her performance earlier?

Would he expect a repeat?

Was she strong enough to resist if he did?

She was vaguely aware of Tilly speaking, but she couldn’t comprehend his words.

Fisting her hand around the pen she’d fished out of her drawer until her fingers hurt, she forced herself to get a grip. She couldn’t let Wyatt know he rattled her so much. When she could speak, she stood and rounded the desk.

“Get Wyatt up to speed on Demello. I’ll go meet Pete,” she said, referring to the DA, then escaped as fast as she dared.

She found Peter Grant talking to his cousin, Deputy Doug Grant, outside of the conference room. As she approached, Doug cuffed Pete on the arm and headed back to his desk.

Pete nodded at her. “So, what do you think will come out of this little meet and greet?”

“Hopefully, a confession and the identity of the thug killing these kids.” Dawn sensed Wyatt before he stopped beside her. She glanced at him and Tilly. “Ready?”

“Yep. Let’s go.” Wyatt was close enough to touch as he reached for the door handle. “After you, Sheriff.”

He met her gaze, and her belly clenched at the memory of his lips on her as their bodies melded. She hurried through the door into the conference room, the men following her.

Tyler Demello sat next to a man who stood as they entered. He wore an expensive suit, his short brown hair gleaming of high dollar Dallas salons. His calculating dark eyes easily took her in with a glint of disdain. “Sheriff Madison. I’m Greg Meyer, Tyler’s attorney.”

Dawn hit
Record
on the recorder on the table and shook the Dallas lawyer’s hand. His gold Rolex gleamed in the fluorescent lights overhead. “Yes, I remember you, Mr. Meyer. We’ve eh… worked together before.”

He gave her a tight-lipped smile and settled his jacket sleeve back into place. He got her meaning. High priced defense lawyers and the police never
worked together
. The cops wanted to tar and feather the rich scum the attorneys were getting paid mega bucks to save from the vat.

She indicated the men standing beside her. “This is Lieutenant Wyatt McPherson of the Texas Rangers, Lieutenant Tillman Kennedy, and Forest County district attorney Peter Grant.”

Wyatt nodded toward the tall, well-dressed woman standing behind the teenager. “Ma’am.”

“Elizabeth Raines. Tyler’s mother.” She crossed her arms over her silk blouse and pursed her carefully painted full lips. She didn’t look old enough to have a seventeen-year-old son. Then again, according to the grapevine, she was married to a man five years older than her son, and half her own age. “Are you charging my son with this preposterous charge, Sheriff?”

Laying the folder on the table, Dawn pulled out a chair and sat directly in front of Tyler. He’d sat with his arms crossed before him throughout the entire greeting. He might have agreed to this meeting, but he hadn’t left his attitude at home. “I have no choice, Mrs. Raines. Tyler was caught with six ounces of coke. We think he’s a dealer, if he’s a user with that much product… Well, either way, we have a problem.”

The woman’s surgery-perfected face paled, and she slid into a chair beside her son. “Tyler?”

He glanced at his mother before looking back at Dawn, and swallowing so hard his protruding Adam’s apple moved up and down in his scrawny neck.

“I have to warn you, Tyler. Whatever you say here, can and will be used against you.” His lawyer interjected before Tyler had a chance to confess to possession. Despite the sheriff’s department having already established the fact by finding the drugs on the boy. “I have to advise you to allow me to answer your questions.”

“Yes, Mom.” Tyler totally ignored the lawyer. Some of that attitude was a good thing after all.

Dawn let out a breath. He wanted to talk, and she wasn’t wasting a minute of it before Meyer reeled him in. She opened the folder and removed a photo.

Before she had a chance to show the picture to Tyler, Wyatt pulled out the chair beside her and slid into it. His scent filled her nose, and she flashed back to the salty sweetness of his skin as they had sex only a few hours ago.

“What do you know about Christopher Larson and Justin Vaughn?” Wyatt asked, his tone low and hard.

Tyler glanced at his tattooed hands. “I know they were also dealers.”

“Are you, or were they part of a gang?” Dawn studied the dark marks over his knuckles. She didn’t recognize them as any gang symbols she was aware of, but she’d also been out of the loop on what went on in the inner cities for several years now.

He shook his head and looked up at her, his dark eyes guarded, but not completely hidden behind his mask of defiance. His black hair fell over his forehead, making him look younger than his seventeen years. How did a rich kid like him end up so messed up?

“Don’t you dare say anything else, Tyler. I won’t have any son of mine going to prison. I won’t be the laughing stock of the Junior League again.” His mother glanced over at the lawyer. “This meeting is over.”

Tyler’s dark eyes hardened as he glared at his mother.

Ah… And there was Dawn’s answer.

Before Raines could get out of her seat, Pete stepped forward from the quiet place he’d taken up against the map of Texas to watch the questioning. “Mrs. Raines, just for the charges your son’s already incurred, he’s facing at least five years in prison. And I’m not talking some cushy juvie boarding school. I’m talking the state pen. This is at least his second offence. I’m prepared to go after him as an adult.”

Tyler’s face paled. “Those other charges were tossed out.”

Pete nodded and leaned over his hands beside Dawn. “My mistake. However, you are a dealer. Chris Larson was a dealer. Justin Vaughn was a dealer. I don’t know about you, but that’s a lot of drugs for a county that has ten times more cows than people.”

“Mr. Grant, what are you getting at?” Meyer leaned forward.

Dawn all but smiled. She knew exactly where Pete was going. “Would you mind telling us where you were Monday morning around four AM? Because I have a witness who says you weren’t home.”

Tyler’s eyes got big, and his mother gasped. “Are you suggesting my son killed those two thugs?”

Wyatt stood and leaned over the table. “That’s exactly what we’re suggesting, Mrs. Raines.”

“No!” Tyler shook his head so fast he sent his punk hairdo flying around his face. “No. I didn’t kill Chris or Justin. We were all dealing for the same man.”

Meyer rested his hand on his shoulder to stop the flow of words. He gave Pete a hard stare. “Okay, Grant. I see where this is going. What can you offer my client if he cooperates and tells you what you want to know?”

Pete straightened and seemed to be calculating his options in the way he rubbed his jaw. “A plea bargain. Tyler tells us whatever he knows, and I’ll reduce the charge to possession.”

“No, not good enough.” Meyer leaned back in his seat. “We want all the charges dropped.”

“I’ll reduce the charges, but I can’t drop them.” With a brow raised, Pete sat in the chair next to Dawn. “Take it or leave it.”

The other lawyer started gathering his notes and glanced at Raines. “I believe we are finished here. We’ll see you at the arraignment.”

“Then we go after your client as our prime suspect in the murders of Larson and Vaughn,” Wyatt said from behind Dawn.

She glanced at him. His jaw twitched and the hardness in his features surprised her. In all the years she’d worked with him, she’d never seen him this cold.

Was it directed at her? Or at the drug dealer?

* * * *

Wyatt didn’t believe for a second Demello killed anyone, but the accusation got the desired effect. The bigwig lawyer sat back and agreed to Pete’s plea bargain. He hated it. Punks like this one had cost him so much, but he’d learned a long time ago that to catch a big fish the little ones sometimes had to be let go.

He didn’t have to like it or make it easy on the shithead.

After a few moments of whispered conversation between Demello and Meyer, the lawyer said, “My client does have a concern about his and his family’s safety.”