Twice as Hot (26 page)

Maybe-perhaps-hopefully
I’d finally convince him to return to Rome what was rightfully his. Because,
and surely he would realize this, that was the only way to make me truly happy.

Rome
withdrew his cell and pressed a single button. He was speaking to…John? a
moment later. “We need cleanup on Pine.” Pause. “Two dead, one escapee and
civilians all over the place.” Another pause. “Yeah, we’re good. On our way to
the airstrip now. I’ll need someone to pick up my clothes and equipment.”

He
disconnected.

Over
and over the car whipped me to the side, Rome taking the turns at an alarming
rate.

“Ever
get a good look at your attackers?” he asked me.

I
wrapped my arms around my middle. My ice had melted on me, too, leaving me
damp, so the air-conditioning was colder than it should have been. “No. Did
you?”

“Not
really. They pulled on masks as they got out of the car. So where’d you learn
to shoot like that and where’d you store your gun? You didn’t leave it behind,
did you? Because I know it’s not currently in your possession.”

“I
told you. I never had a gun. Well, not on me.”

He
flicked me a quick glance over his shoulder. “No, you said you
didn’t
have a gun. What do you mean, you
never
had one? You fired at the bad
guys.”

“No.
I didn’t shoot those men. Someone else did.”

The
car jerked—I think Rome’s foot flexed on the pedal. He turned his head to flick
me another glance, this one through narrowed lids. Not wanting to admit to the
rest just yet, I looked away from him and focused on Sherridan, who was curled
on the floorboard of the passenger seat and staring at me through the slit
between the bucket chairs.

You
okay?
she mouthed.

I
nodded.
You?

So
far.

In
unison we reached for each other and twined our fingers.

“Shit.
They’ve already started to block off the exits,” Rome muttered. The car slowed,
eased into another driveway, then backed out and headed in the opposite
direction. “We’re going to have to brave an interrogation. Belle, Sherridan,
switch places.”

Switch—“What?
Why?”

“Do
it. Now.” No compromise.

Sherridan
and I shared a wide-eyed, confused look before squishing together, shimmying
around each other and changing locations. The bright sun was suddenly glaring
at me, spotlighting me.

“Good.
Now sit up and buckle.”

My
heart was currently in the process of racing our car. My heart was winning, and
my blood was chilling. “I thought we needed to hide.”

“I
doubt the bad guys will try anything with this much fuzz on location.”

Fair
enough. I buckled, my hand shaking, and the moisture on the gauges crystallized
again. I wanted to reach out, touch Rome in some way, absorb his strength, his
heat, but didn’t.

“What
are you going to tell the police?”

“I’ll
get to that. First, tell me about the gun you don’t have.”

Was
he trying to distract me? Well, it was working. That didn’t mean I was ready to
give him the truth, though. I swallowed, searching my brain for the least
incriminating excuse. “Guardian angel?” I said weakly. I’d meant it as a
statement, not a question. How many times had I done something similar in the
past few days? I had to gain better control of my voice inflections.

A
muscle ticked in his jaw. “Try again.”

No
matter how I laid this out, Rome was going to hate it. He would shout, maybe
lecture me. “Someone was there, all right?” I tossed the words like a weapon.
“Someone was there, helping me. Shooting the bastards to protect me.”

“Someone—a
man?”

“Yes.”

“Was
he cute?” Sherridan asked.

“Yes,
but you’re not dating him.”
You’re not going near him,
I silently added.
I didn’t know what I’d do if Memory Man decided he wanted Sherridan’s memories
of me, too.

“And
you didn’t think to tell me he was there?” Rome asked quietly. “I could have
talked to the man, learned more about his purpose.”

“He
took off when you arrived.” I think. M-Squared was wily, I’d give him that.

“Or
so you think,” was the harsh reply, as though he’d read my mind.

“I’m
sensing anger, Rome,” Sherridan said. “The guy saved her. You should kiss his
ass in thanks, not yell at Belle because you failed her.”

I
loved Sherridan.

Rome
ran his tongue over his teeth. “I can drop you off here, you know.”

“All
right, kiddies,” I said, clapping to gain their attention. “That’s enough. Rome
didn’t let me down, and Sherridan’s staying right where she is.” Who would ever
have thought I’d be placed in the role of moderator? Usually, I had to be
moderated.

“What’d
the guy say to you?” Rome demanded, not allowing the subject to drop.

“Nothing.”
I rolled up the ends of my jeans, removed my shoes and tugged off my socks.
They were too wet, having collected most of the water that had dripped from my
skin. “Well, he told me not to be afraid of him and that he’d help me.”

“That’s
something. But who was…he. Oh, hell, no.” The steering wheel whined as it bent
backward. “Tell me it wasn’t Memory Man, Belle.”

Sometimes
it sucked to love a man who was good at putting clues together. “So you want me
to lie?”

Crack.
The top half of the
steering wheel detached from the bottom half.

“He
called me, too,” I added. Might as well disclose the full truth, now that our
channels of communication were so open.

Like
a child who’d just been told he couldn’t play with his favorite toy anymore,
Rome tossed the decimated piece on the floor.

“Jealous?”
I asked hopefully.

“Hardly.”

He
was, I thought, trying not to grin. He really was. His breath was sawing in and
out and his teeth were grinding together. That was more than just anger, and
what sweet progress it was! This was the Rome I knew and loved. A man who
wanted me all to himself, who hated for other men to even glance in my
direction. Sounded Neanderthal, but I loved it.

In
the past, boyfriends hadn’t cared who looked at me or even what I did with the
person doing the looking. I’d been a kind of backup plan for them, easily
discarded when something better came along. To Rome, I’d always been that
something better, and he’d wanted to cherish me.

“We’re
being pulled over, ladies,” he suddenly said. “Let me do the talking.”

“What!”
Sherridan shouted. “Why? You weren’t speeding. At least, not that much.”

I
rubbed my palm over my chest, my heart once again fluttering wildly. “Think
they know we—”

Rome
gave a single shake of his head. “They’d have guns trained on us if they
suspected. They’re just taking names, finding out who was out and about in this
area during the shootout.” The car slowed, then came to a halt altogether at a
curb in front of a sprawling two-story house.

Once
again I found myself watching a scene play out through a rearview mirror. The
black-and-white car door swung open. Booted feet hit the ground, and then a
short, stocky male was unfolding himself from the car and standing.

I
groaned when his rough, weathered features came into view.

“What?”
Sherridan and Rome demanded in unison.

“I
know him.” And that was not a good thing! “I bet he’s trying to catch us riding
dirty.”

“Wait.
You know the policeman?” Rome asked, brow furrowing.

“Yeah.
A girl never forgets her first arresting officer.”

Sherridan
snapped her fingers, anger flaring in her navy eyes. “So we’re about to have a
face-to-face with K. Parton?”

“You
know him, too?” Rome demanded.

“Well,
Belle was driving my car, and I had to bail her out. Get ready to meet the
antichrist, my friend. This guy likes to treat innocent women like hardened
criminals.”

“You
were arrested?” Rome turned the mirror so that he could have a better look at
the man approaching. “For what?”

Rome
had once done a background check on me, so he already had this info at his
fingertips. Rehashing it did not equal fun. “I had an expired license. No big
deal.”

Now
he blinked over at me. “You’re kidding. There are violent felons out there, and
he booked you for a damn license violation?”

“Yep.
I was on my way to a job interview. Of course, I never made it so I didn’t get
the job. And I would have nailed that interview, I just know it. I’ve always
been good at those.” I should be, anyway. I’d sat through what seemed like
thousands of them.

“Kill
him,” Sherridan commanded of Rome.

Officer
Bastard, a.k.a. Officer Parton, advanced on the car with strong, sure strides.
What were the chances I’d run into the devil twice in a lifetime?

Who
knows? Maybe he’d changed. Maybe he’d—

He
stopped in front of Rome’s window and I was given a full, unobstructed view of
him. Oh, no. Little Partie Wartie hadn’t stopped loving himself, that much was obvious
by the proud tilt of his chin and the superior gleam in his eyes as he lifted
his sunglasses. Clearly, he still considered himself God in that dark blue
uniform.

Funny,
but just then he reminded me of Lexis.

Don’t
get me wrong. I had nothing against cops in general. We worked in a similar
field, so of course I respected what they did. But people who were so in love
with their own power drove me batty.

I
had the power to destroy families, armies. I mean, I could fry this man with a
fireball. He’d scream and he’d suffer and he’d die. But while the thought
morbidly pleased me, I wouldn’t act on it. I didn’t think myself better than
him—well, than
everyone
—because of what I could do.

That
was the difference between us.

Rome
opened the driver-side window and rested his elbow on the rim. “What’s the
problem, Officer? Was I speeding?”

Parton
tapped a pen against the pad of paper he held. “License and registration.” His
gaze traveled over me, but it was clear he didn’t recognize me. Unlike last
time, his lips did not curl in distaste.

At
this rate, I was going to develop a complex. Was I
that
forgettable?

He
looked Sherridan over next, paused to admire her for a bit, then studied the
jacked-up steering wheel. He didn’t ask, to my surprise, but he had to wonder.

Rome
gave him both with a nervous laugh. I knew that laugh was faked. Nothing made
Rome nervous. Look how he’d handled those shooters. Not even a moment of
hesitation.

“You
live in the area,” Officer Parton said, looking over Rome’s information. “Where
you headed?”

“What
does that matter?” I found myself asking.

Rome
pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sweetheart,” he said through clenched teeth,
“just because you have a headache doesn’t mean you should inflict your bad mood
on the rest of us. Let the man do his job.”

Parton
wanted to slap Rome on the shoulder in a way-to-keep-your-woman-in-her-place
gesture, I could tell. “You’d do best to listen to your husband, ma’am.”

“He’s
not my husband,” I grumbled.

Rome
stiffened.

Parton’s
head tilted to the side as he considered me a second time. “Do I know you?”

“No,”
I lied. If only Rome had recovered his memory that quickly. “I’m sure I’d
remember—”

“We’re
actually in something of a rush,” Rome interjected before I could finish with
an
upstanding law enforcer such as yourself.
Really. “Doctor’s appointment.
For her headache. So if you’re through with us…”

Parton
slid his sunglasses back into place, and a dark brow arched over the top of
them. I had the feeling he was still looking at me, trying to place me, not really
listening to Rome. There was a cold brush of ickiness all the way to my soul.

I
glanced down at myself. My T-shirt and jeans were still damp, my nipples hard
and peeking through my bra. I appeared every inch the aroused vagrant. Rome was
no better (minus the aroused part, alas). He had a few cuts on his face and
bruises already forming on his hands, all of which would be healed by the end
of the day. Grass stains and soot clung to his clothing.

“Officer?”
Rome said.

Parton’s
attention whipped to him. Oh, gag. He
had
been sizing me up. Maybe even
perving on me. I was going to need a hose rammed down my throat to wash out the
vomit.

His
pen started tapping against his notepad again. “You guys hear or see anything
unusual since leaving your house?”

“Why?”
Rome asked, acting like any other morbidly curious person. “Like what?”