The Vampire's Mail Order Bride
Page 46“Damn straight,” Stanhill chimed in. “They won’t get a chance to lay hands on you, miss.”
She smiled.
Hugh squeezed her hand. “I want you to feel safe.”
“I do.” Her smile faded a bit and her gaze turned wistful. “I guess this means no parade, huh?”
He knew she’d be disappointed, but there was nothing he could do. Her safety was more important. “Probably not.”
“That kinda sucks.” She took a deep breath. “Let’s go see the sheriff. Get this over with.”
Stanhill stood. “I’ll bring the car around.” He grinned at her. “If it’s all right that I leave.”
“Yes.” She laughed. “Sorry about ordering you around like that.”
He winked at her. “I assure you, I’m used to it.”
“Oh please,” Hugh said. “Just go get the car.”
“See?” Stanhill shook his head as he walked out of the room.
Hugh looked after his rook. “He’s a good man.”
She took his hand. “So are you. I’m sorry I gave you such a hard time about going to see Piper. That wasn’t fair of me.”
He pulled her close. “Considering your history with men not being honest, I’d say you get a pass.” He brushed her bottom lip with his thumb and heat spiraled through him at the thought of having her in his bed again. “I will never intentionally hurt you, Delaney. If I have to tell you that every day, I will.”
He sealed his promise with a slow kiss. “And I will never let anyone else hurt you.” He looked into her eyes. “If these men come after you, they will have to go through me. If they attempt to hurt you, I will kill them.”
She swallowed. “It’s totally wrong of me to be turned on by the thought of murder, but that’s kind of hot.”
Her words caught him off guard, and he laughed out loud. “You never fail to surprise me, woman. For someone of my age, that is a rare and outstanding quality.”
Two quick honks broke the mood. “Stanhill,” Hugh growled as he got to his feet. He raised a brow at Delaney and offered her a hand up. “That impudence is all for your benefit, I hope you know. He likes you. And he’s a tough critic.”
She smiled and took his hand as she stood. “I like Stanhill, too. When I first got here, I thought he was you.”
Hugh frowned. “You seem as though you would have been okay with that.”
“He’s a very handsome man, but he’s a little old for me.” She pursed her lips and leaned into him. “Of course, that was before I knew you were three hundred and seventy-seven.”
Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting in the sheriff’s office. It was a block off Main in a pretty brick building with a small front parking lot. Sheriff Merrow’s office sat just beyond the receptionist’s desk, which is where she and Hugh sat now. When they’d come in, she’d seen a smaller, second office, maybe an interrogation room, and a hall with a sign above it that said “Holding,” but not much more than that. Apparently, when your town’s sheriff was a werewolf, crime wasn’t that big of an issue.
“Appreciate you coming in,” Sheriff Merrow said.
He was about to close his office door, when the receptionist barged in. “Can I get y’all a Coke? We have bottled water too. Or coffee.”
He glowered at the woman. “Mrs. Caruthers, I am trying to—”
“You hush, Hank. Where are your manners? And for Pete’s sake, call me Aunt Birdie.” She shook her head and looked at Delaney. “I changed his diapers, you know. And his brother Titus’s.”
“Mrs. Ca—Aunt Birdie.” Sheriff Merrow pointed out the door. “Back to your desk please.”
Delaney hoped her shock wasn’t registering on her face. She could not imagine changing a werewolf’s diapers. “I would have thought it was more of a housebreaking situation,” she muttered under her breath.
Hugh coughed and shot her a pointed look.
“What was that, dear?” Mrs. Caruthers asked as she soundly ignored Sheriff Merrow.
“Nothing,” Delaney said. “We’re good on the drinks.”
Sheriff Merrow pointed with greater enthusiasm.
Birdie left.
He shut the door. “Sorry about that. She’s a force of nature, that one.”
“Is she really your aunt?”
Sheriff Merrow’s nostrils flared. “Yes.”
Delaney stifled a snort of laughter. “I like the pushiness of Southern hospitality, although it’s going to take some getting used to.”
Sheriff Merrow sighed, opened a file and pushed it across the desk toward her. “Pictures are grainy, but it’s the best Bridget could do. Resolution on her security feed isn’t great.”
She studied the pictures, finally pushing the file back toward him. “Sorry, neither of these men look familiar, although they do look like the type of guys that Little Tony—that’s Anthony Rastinelli’s son—hangs out with.” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">