.38 Caliber Cover-Up

relaxed his features. “Please?”

It was easy to see the word please wasn’t in his vocabulary. Had been hard for him to add, harder still for him to mean it. He tightened his abs, waiting for her answer. She recognized his tell. A very nice-to-look-at reaction, normally hidden under his shirt and one he didn’t seem able to control. He was so uncomfortable telling the truth, his body reacted to it like a lie.

“Since you asked so nicely.” She pushed farther away from the table, completely convinced she was making the wrong decision, but also at ease that she could finally see through her partner’s facade. “I’m famous for a six-minute shower in my family. One bathroom, four men.”

“You’ll find everything you need in the cabinets.”

Erren took her seat at the table as she scooped the clothes he’d thrown her and retreated toward the room she’d slept the day away in. She was making a graceful exit until she turned the knob and found the door locked.

“You’ll have to go through the other bedroom,” Erren said, without looking in her direction. He began his conversation with the ADA in a voice so low, the other man had to lean across the corner of the dinette table to hear.

“Six minutes.”

Her partner gave her a thumbs-up and continued as if she was history. She hated to spend precious time on getting clean, but there was no predicting how long they’d be one step ahead of the men chasing them. Spending Sean’s money on clothing wasn’t wise either.

Very few personal items were on the lone bureau. The nightstand was empty as in the other bedroom. No pictures on the wall. The room was clean of dust and the cover she’d wrapped up in all afternoon hadn’t been musty. So either Pike had cleaned recently or he’d hired someone to take care of the place.

But the cabin belonged to Erren. Perhaps he meant it belonged to him now. As the executor, he’d know. She hadn’t pressed for details. It was definitely time for details.

Taking a six-minute, straightforward shower was her family trademark, especially when she couldn’t shave her legs. Today would be no exception, no matter how inviting that huge tub seemed. No long, leisurely, candlelit soaks while reading a murder mystery. No bubble bath or cute feminine soap. Most of her life, she’d shared a bathroom with four men who cringed at a floral-scented or pink anything. She didn’t particularly care for pink either. It was much too close to purple or bloodred.

Three colors to mark off her favorite color list. Such an unimportant thought, but one that brought her right back to her family. She’d do whatever it took to clear Michael’s name and hopefully her dad would understand.

The soap was unscented and the water pressure strong. So perfect she could bask beneath the spray and positively purr.

Concentrate on the case.

How had Erren known how to contact the ADA? “Of course, I was actually the one who identified him this afternoon,” she said into the shower spray. “He could’ve called information. No deception necessary. So why the private meeting? And what was in the trunk next to the lounger?”

Erren’s dark hair had dried pushed back from his face, curling behind his ears. Longer hair had been in the “cute” column for her as a teenager. On military bases almost all the young men had crew cuts to match their fathers. Most of the barbers had only one setting on their clippers—supershort.

When someone had grown their hair out, they immediately became a rebel. Immediately worth dating. With the exception of her brother Michael, there hadn’t been any rebels in her life for many years.

“Grow up, Darby.” Okay, talking aloud in the shower was also an old habit. She wasn’t going to “date” Rhodes, but he had a killer set of abs. She’d certainly made enough mistakes in front of the agent. Including blubbering like an idiot. How was she going to live that down?

Cops didn’t cry when they were frustrated or tired. Of course, she hadn’t known she was crying until Erren had brushed away her tears as he’d pulled the quilt over her shoulders. Being tucked in was a rare occurrence after her mother had died from an undiagnosed heart condition.

Nothing like that had been allowed growing up—especially crying. Allowed or encouraged? She didn’t understand which at the time. Now, she knew it was her father’s way of not dealing. He was an excellent sergeant major, but he didn’t understand the female psyche at all. It had always been easier for her to pretend she was one of the boys.

But she wasn’t.

And the man who’d saved her life without knowing anything about her made her feel completely feminine. When his eyes brightened to strong amber, he devoured her with his hunger without laying a finger on her body.

“What are you hiding now, Erren?” she asked herself in the mirror to remind the capable cop staring back at her that her partner was alone with a man who might have answers.

She threw the clothes on—an old Dallas Cowboys’ jersey and running shorts probably from the ’80s. She rolled the too-large shorts around her waist, bringing the hem right under her bum, but it was a lot safer than a mere towel.

The sexual magnetism radiating from Erren would break the strongest of resisters. Hers had been in place for so long they were well established, but it was easier to imagine no barriers between them at all. Lord knew, she’d never become sexually entangled with a colleague. Yet this particular man was different. She couldn’t get involved with him and had to find a way to remember she couldn’t.

Agent Rhodes, Agent Rhodes, Agent Rhodes, her partner, her partner, her partner…she chanted on her return to the kitchen, trying to appear as professional as skimpy shorts allowed.

Brian was still seated at the table and actually rose to his feet as she entered the room. Erren had his head in the refrigerator. When he looked up to see her, the color drained from his face. He was as pale as when they were in the balloon.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head, took a deep breath. “Everything’s fine.”

“Is it the shorts? I can make them longer if you have a safety pin or something.”

“It’s not your breathtaking legs, Darby.” He dug in the fridge again, pulling out a Coke. “Want one? Or there’s a chocolate bar.”

“No, thanks.” The comment about her legs would cause the chocolate to melt in her hand. “You looked like you’d seen a ghost or were sailing high above the clouds again.”

“Let’s not talk about that.” He closed the subject of his fear of heights along with the door to the icebox.

“I wouldn’t mind a drink,” Brian said, politely reminding them both he was in the room and reseating himself at the table.

“Hand me your clothes.” He reached across the small bar separating the kitchen from the living area. “I’ll toss them in the washer.”

“Thanks.” She handed him her clothes and took a seat. When she looked at him again, Erren’s arms were stretched above his head, showing off his gorgeous set of abs marred only with a flesh-colored Band-Aid.

“Are you injured?”

“How’s your side?” Her words overlapped Brian’s question.

“Much better. Barely hurts.” He pressed the edge of the bandage covering his wound.

“What’s all that?” She pointed to the papers she’d noticed earlier.

“Family stuff.” He wrinkled his brow, pressed his lips together. “Just making sure that Walter didn’t leave anything here.”

“Earlier today you were certain he didn’t.” She’d like to point out that his statements had led to her frustration and meltdown, but she wouldn’t broach the subject in front of the ADA.

“Don’t make a big deal out of it, Darby. And I checked, I was right. There’s nothing here.” He pointed to the trunk. “If Pike had left information for me, he would’ve put it with my things. He didn’t.”

He leaned back, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. The muscles in his chest and arms flexed with the natural movement. She couldn’t get her mind off his body. And couldn’t forget their professional