.38 Caliber Cover-Up

scooted away from the table, catching the chair before it toppled backward, hurrying into the main room.

“We’re looking for some type of flash drive or a memory stick.” Excitement hummed through her movements as she searched through the few books remaining on the shelves. “Where should we look? Is there a camera or anything electronic stored here somewhere?”

“Nope. Guess I’ll clean up.”

His afternoon priorities had shifted. Instead of getting Darby excited with the thought of sleeping with him, she was thrilled to search through every box in the place. But it wasn’t necessary. He knew the drill.

“Pike wouldn’t have left the files here, Darby.” He carried the plates to the kitchen counter and put the containers of food in the fridge.

She stopped searching the only drawer in the living area, having found only old flashlights and candles his mother had stored there. The cabin was one big family area, no hallways, only one medium-sized square with limited furniture. Two bedroom doors on one end of the cabin with a bathroom between them on the outside wall. Nothing fancy. Remembering how many times he’d been here with his mom and dad put a lump in his throat. He’d thought about his parents more in the last fifteen hours than he had in five years.

Darby parked her hands on her hips—a tall, slender reflection in the window above the sink. “You always have the right answer, don’t you? Always so sure of everything.”

“Not everything,” he mumbled. I thought this afternoon would go a little bit differently.

“What’s that? Oh, you mean mistaking me for my brother?” She laughed, more bitter than a genuine laugh from her heart.

“A laugh from her heart.” Are you kidding me? Dang, boy, what’s wrong with your manly brain? Stop thinking like a horny sap.

“I only meant that since I cooked, you should clean.” He turned just in time to feel her hands shove at his chest. “Hey, what’s that for?”

“You’re so…so…irrr.” She threw her hands in the air, frustration replacing the excitement from moments before.

“If you don’t do dishes, just say so.” He set his butt in a kitchen chair, partly to keep his hands to himself and not act upon the thoughts he’d had of getting her into bed all afternoon. And partly because he was clueless. But any male could have sensed an explosion was just minutes away.

“Oh. My. Gosh.” She hit her legs with her fists. Then lightly tapped the counter, visibly showing her aggravation at his lack of response.

Okay, only seconds away. He crossed his arms over his chest, keeping his hands from reaching out to pull her to his lap.

“Why aren’t you in a hurry? We know what we’re looking for, so let’s look.”

“We need a break, Darby. Adrenaline only works for so long.” He had enough experience to know Darby was ready to crash and burn. She’d had a ton piled on her in a short amount of time, and she’d been magnificent, but they both needed rest or they’d do something stupid. And in his world, stupid got you killed.

“How can you be so…so…relaxed?”

“I am not relaxed. I’m tired. This is a safe house. We can sleep and regroup here.” For once in his life, he didn’t want to lie. Not to her. But it was not the answer she wanted. “You need to calm down.”

Judging from the angry look in her eyes, that was an even worse thing to say.

“What I need is to find Pike’s murderer and clear my brother’s name.” The look she shot him may have thrashed lesser men. “You’re acting like we have all the time in the world. God knows what could happen to Michael while we’re resting.”

“Look, you’re frustrated. And that can make you act irrationally.” He propped his feet up on the chair she’d occupied moments before during their nice, quiet lunch.

“What was I thinking, trusting you for even two minutes?” She kicked the chair from under his feet, toppling it to the tile floor. “Where are the keys? You want to play it safe? Fine. Stay here.”

“You need to man up—or find the female equivalent.”

“I didn’t grow up with any female equivalents. Three brothers and a father who didn’t care about cuts and bruises taught me to take care of things myself.” Darby paced the floor, shaking her hands, trying to put out an imaginary fire.

Energy vibrated from her. “I can’t do nothing.” He’d left the keys on the bookshelf next to the door. She found them, right next to their guns.

The steam in her kettle was building up to blow. He couldn’t feed her emotional breakdown, but was at a total loss as to how to stop it. He had zero experience with this sort of thing.

“You stay here and get your rest,” she said.

“We are not leaving yet.” He rose from behind the table and paced his moves to match hers. She glanced away; he took another step. He tried to show he was calm and cool, even though his brain couldn’t settle on a course of action. She had a gun. Holstered, but loaded. “Come on, Darby. Think logically. There’s nothing we can do right this minute.”

“Except rest, right?”

So she had seen the condoms in the grocery sack. “Give me the keys.”

“Sean’s truck and I are returning to Dallas. I’ll find the package without assistance.” She put the Glock down the back of her pants, and tossed and caught the keys.

He took a longer step toward the front door. So did his opponent. “Look, Darby, you aren’t thinking about this logically. You need rest. Real sleep, muscle regeneration, new brain cells.”

“Please cut the crap and move out of the way.”

“No.” He crossed his arms and widened his stance, prepared for a shove.

She unzipped her jacket to reveal the souvenir T-shirt she’d retrieved with her purse from the truck. She stretched her arms behind her head. “I can handle myself. I took Michael down in three rounds once.”

“I am not your brother Michael.”

“Afraid?” She bent at the waist, sending her cute little behind in the air.

Afraid? Hell, yeah, he was afraid. But not of her throwing a good jab or left cross. Man, she was sexy right now and that was dangerous. “Partners don’t use each other for springboards following the perp. They agree to both stay or both go. And I’m staying.”

She was furious. He could see it in the tightness of her lips and set of her chin. She was past hot steam and the kettle was dry—an explosion imminent.

“You don’t know what it’s like to do nothing. You have no emotional investment in this.”

Erren stared at her, feeling like she’d sucker-punched him. The hell of it was, he was getting emotionally sucked further and further in by the minute. Now that was dangerous. “Think smart, not with the heart.”

“Maybe they’re not mutually exclusive. Now get out of my way.”

“You want to leave, you’ll have to get past me.”

She shoved the keys deep into her pocket. “I’m not afraid of you.”

He tightened his grip on his arms. If he touched her, it wouldn’t be in a sparring match. He wanted that skin perfectly white, not bruised by his hand. The next time his fingers grazed her, it would be wrestling of a different sort. “If you’re convinced you’re doing the right thing, prove it. Take me down once, and I’ll let you call the shots.”

Light on her feet, Darby moved toward him to throw a punch at his right shoulder. He dodged.

“Didn’t your daddy teach you any dirty tricks to use on all those military privates who dated you?” He retreated two steps. He gestured for her to come after him.

“You’re infuriating.”

“See, you’re overreacting to my comments and not thinking clearly.”

The more he spouted off, the less accurate her punches became. She threw another, and he stumbled backward into the lounger, ducking a right jab. She threw a series, and he stayed one step out of her way.

“Damn it, Erren, engage me.”

She was too emotional. When she threw another lefty punch without much sizzle, he caught her hand and