She had to shock him again. But she didn’t have the seconds she needed to reload. Pressing the handheld portion of the gun to whatever part of him she could reach, which turned out to be his stomach since he was on his knees, she used the Taser like a stun gun.
The second jolt stopped him cold. Although she couldn’t see him clearly in the dark, she could tell he was in pain. He fell as he was getting off the bed and writhed on the floor at her feet.
“Hold still or I’ll shock you again!”
He stopped moving, but the fury that rolled off him in waves terrified her. She was tempted to hit him with a third jolt, just to make sure he wouldn’t recover quickly enough to harm her when she cuffed him. She didn’t really know him, after all. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Seeing the results of what she’d already done made her cringe.
He asked for this, she reminded herself. She’d given him the chance to comply, provided a peaceful option.
But that didn’t make her feel any better.
Hurrying to finish before he could move, she put the Taser on the dresser, pushed him onto his stomach and secured his hands behind his back.
Once the cuffs snapped into place, she was shaking but breathing a lot easier. Now she just needed to get him into her car. The prospect of jail time would convince him to hand over that evidence; she felt sure of it. But she wasn’t sure how to go about getting him to the station. She couldn’t pull him to his feet. He’d curled up and was too heavy. The motel was empty enough so the noise hadn’t drawn anyone’s attention. But that meant she couldn’t ask anyone for assistance. And he hadn’t yet regained control of his body.
“You gonna make it?” She tried to sound tough, but inside she was nervous. Tasers were a useful tool, one that helped her avoid lethal enforcement. She’d even been hit with a Taser when she was in training and knew they rarely caused lasting damage. But the publicity surrounding the cases that did go awry certainly came to mind….
When he didn’t answer, she bent close to see for herself and got a razor-sharp glare for her efforts. He was okay. She just needed to get him to the station and behind bars before she lost her nerve.
Using the threat of her Taser to make him move, she waved him to his feet. And that was when she realized she had another problem, one so apparent now that she couldn’t believe she’d missed it before—despite the darkness and the adrenaline rush.
She’d expected to see a lot of bare skin. Most people didn’t sleep fully clothed. But Rod wasn’t even wearing boxers.
10
Sophia had to get him dressed, and she had to start with underwear. But she needed to find a pair, and that meant turning on the light and going through his luggage.
Roderick’s jeans, shorts and T-shirts were neatly folded in a leather duffel bag sitting on the suitcase stand, his tennis shoes and suede flip-flops positioned directly beneath. A laptop sat on the nightstand, as if he’d set it aside just before bed.
As she sorted through his clothing, she could smell his fabric softener. If he washed his own clothes, and he probably did, he seemed to do a good job. But Roderick seemed to do a good job at everything. It was his military training, she supposed.
Had she been too impetuous when she rejected his offer of help? If so, it was too late to second-guess herself. She didn’t need him. The FBI would be getting involved soon.
“Do you have a preference on what you’d like to wear to jail?” she asked.
He didn’t answer. He was standing, but from the muscle that jumped in his cheek, he was angry enough to spit. And he didn’t make any attempt to hide his nudity. There wasn’t much he could do—not with his hands cuffed behind his back—but he hardly seemed self-conscious about it. Maybe he was taking some sort of perverse pleasure in knowing she was discomfited by finding him this way.
It’d been a long time since Sophia had seen a body like his. Actually, she’d never seen one quite so toned. Starkey hadn’t been flabby, but his build was bulkier, much less sculpted. His skin wasn’t as nice, either. Rod had the smoothest, softest-looking skin she’d ever seen on a man and only one tattoo—a rose with a ribbon that read In Loving Memory on his chest. In an attempt to avoid staring at a certain asset, she focused on his tattoo.
“Fine, if you don’t have a preference, I’ll pick,” she said. “I think you’d look nice in red.” She selected a T-shirt and the khaki shorts he’d had on earlier. Then she dug deeper, for underclothes. His boxers were in the bottom of the bag.
She pulled out a pair that had a pattern of four-leaf clovers and managed a smile. “Look. Lucky underwear.”
Resentment simmered in his eyes, making her hesitant to move close enough to dress him.
“You’re going to cooperate with me while I help you get these on, aren’t you?” she asked. “Because I don’t want to have to shock you again.”
That was true. She hadn’t wanted to shock him the first time. If only he’d agreed to turn over the evidence, this would’ve gone down very differently.
Again, he didn’t respond, but his expression wasn’t promising docile cooperation.
“Are you unable to speak?”
He finally broke his silence. “I’m afraid of what might come out of my mouth.”
Apparently, all his faculties had returned. “I don’t think it’s fair to hold a grudge over this,” she said. “I gave you a choice. And I’m just doing my job.”
“Excuse me? Finding the man who’s been killing people in the desert would be doing your job. This is a waste of time and effort. This is about assuaging your wounded pride!”
“You took something from the crime scene.”
“Which I’m having analyzed in hopes of creating a DNA profile.”
So it wasn’t a rock…
“I was going to share the results with you,” he added.
“And I was supposed to take that on faith?”
“But now that you’ve shot me with that damn thing,” he went on, as if she hadn’t spoken, “you can kiss my ass.”
To give him what privacy she could, she kept her eyes averted. “I don’t think you want to take that attitude.”
“Or what? You’ll shoot me with your Glock next time?”
“Maybe.”
He shook his head. “You’re nuts.”
Her actions had seemed rational enough before she’d busted into his room. Why was she suddenly wishing she hadn’t?