Jonah, who also worked for Department 6, had been shot in the back a year ago. He survived, but while Rod was with him in the E.R. he said something that seemed pretty damn apropos: It’s always the jobs where you think you can skate by, the ones you don’t expect to get you.

“So how will we get my Hummer back?” he asked. “We won’t. We’ll drop off the keys and let the towing company grab it. You’re done for tonight. If I’d shown up any later they would’ve killed you.”

Here we go again. “But they didn’t,” he pointed out. “You arrived in time, and I’m okay. So we can both relax. What could’ve happened doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Maybe we should’ve gone in together,” she murmured as if better planning might have changed the situation. But taking her in there wouldn’t have been an improvement. He shuddered to think of what they would’ve done to her.

“Then we’d both be planted in the backyard.” He braced against the sway of the car as she turned. “By the way, how long are you going to drive before you pull over and let me out of these handcuffs?”

“Oh, right.” The car slowed and the tires crunched on the rocky shoulder as she came to a stop. Seconds later, she opened the door and prodded him to lean forward.

Given the kick to his gut, it wasn’t a comfortable position, but he didn’t feel like getting out of the car, either. He swallowed a groan while she released him. Then he fell back, rubbing his wrists. “That was a close one.”

“Too close.” She turned his face to take advantage of the cabin light and clicked her tongue. “Look at you.”

Hoping to put her at ease, he attempted a playful grin. “Do I look tough?”

The worry didn’t leave her eyes. “No, more like you’ve been hit by a bus.”

“Do you feel sorry enough for me to take me in?”

“Take you in?” she echoed, letting go of him.

“I don’t have a motel room anymore, remember? I don’t even have a change of clothes.” He grimaced to make himself appear more pathetic. “And I really need to lie down.”

She bit her lip. “We haven’t checked the other motel. Maybe they have a room.”

“You’d leave me there like this?”

He saw her soften a little. “Good point. Maybe you should see a doctor.”

Now she was going too far. “I don’t need a doctor. Those boys were barely getting started. I just need some rest.”

“But I only have one bed.”

“I’ll take the couch.”

She pushed his hair to one side to examine some injury he couldn’t feel, thanks to all the others. “You don’t suppose you have a concussion, do you?”

“Why? Am I not making sense?”

“You’re making sense, but…”

He gave up the games. “I’m fine, Sophia. I need sleep. That’s all.”

Letting her breath go, she straightened. “Okay, I’ll take you home. But if I wasn’t so relieved you made it out of there alive, I’d never go for it.”

“I should’ve told you how beautiful you are,” he muttered.

“Excuse me?”

“When you lifted up your shirt earlier.” He allowed his eyes to slide shut. “It’s all I can think about.”

18

In the end, Sophia didn’t have the heart to make Rod sleep on the couch. He was too banged up. She helped him clean off the blood, put some antiseptic on his cuts, then guided him to her room, where he peeled off everything except his boxers and fell into bed. Less than fifteen minutes after they’d arrived at her place, she had a trail of clothing across her floor and he was taking up most of her bed.

“I’m such a sucker,” she mumbled. But she was on duty until four, which meant she had to go back to the station for a couple of hours. If she wasn’t going to be home, anyway, she couldn’t see putting someone who was injured on her uncomfortable leather couch, especially someone as tall as Rod. She’d figure out where she was going to sleep later.

She’d just opened her front door to let herself out of the house when a shadow loomed over her. Startled, she grabbed her gun before realizing it was Starkey.

“Whoa!” He raised his hands, eyes on the barrel. “What’s with the quick draw, Tex?”

Embarrassed, Sophia put it away. She was used to hearing Starkey’s motorcycle when he came by, but he’d wrecked it a few weeks ago and been borrowing vehicles from friends and other gang members ever since. An old Camaro sat across the street, engine idling. She thought there was someone behind the wheel, but she couldn’t make out who it was.

“Sorry. I normally hear you coming. And I guess I’m a little jittery tonight.”

“Is it those killings you’ve been investigating? They startin’ to get to ya?”

Starting? They’d been “getting to her” from the beginning. “Among other things.” Instead of inviting him in, she stepped out of the house and closed the door behind her. She preferred not to let him know that Rod was staying at her place. She wasn’t sure why. It was none of his business, yet she knew it would make him jealous. He hadn’t been willing to change his lifestyle to keep her but openly admitted he’d been a fool to lose her. She had the feeling that as he aged, he’d begun to wish for a more stable life and regretted that he hadn’t done more for Rafe.

“What other things?” He accompanied her as she walked toward her car, which she’d parked in the driveway.

“Roderick Guerrero’s motel room was vandalized tonight. You don’t know anything about it, do you?”

“Hell, no. Why would I know anything about it?”

Because if anyone had his ear to the ground and could tell her what was happening in the seedy underbelly of this seemingly tranquil town, it was Starkey and his Hells Angels buddies. He was generally tight-lipped, didn’t want to undermine his badass image by narking to the cops, but every once in a while she pried a few details out of him that came in handy. “The company you keep.” She jerked her head toward whoever was waiting in the Camaro.

“Johnny Greer don’t know nothin’. He’s part of the Prescott chapter. He’s thinkin’ about relocatin’ so he came down to check out the scene.”

She’d reached her car, but paused to finish the conversation. “I was hoping someone out there might be bragging about it.”




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