Espinoza clicked his tongue. “That’s a shame.”
“Not really.” She tossed her wilting curls over one shoulder. “I can rip a piece of the fabric out right now, if you like.”
“No hurry. Based on what Agent Archer told us, we’re pretty sure we know what happened here.”
Another truck squealed up to the scene and, in the glare of the spotlights, Nash Dillon jumped out of his vehicle and hovered over the authorities transferring the head into a bag.
When they finished the job, Nash strode to the porch. “I guess we found her head, but damn, left on your porch? They’re thumbing their noses at us, bro.”
Clay shook his head. “I need to get some cameras at my house. I didn’t even have Denali here to sound the alarm.”
“Oh, hey, April.” Nash raised his hand and continued his conversation with Clay, as if the appearance of Clay’s ex-fiancée in a blood-spattered wedding dress made all the sense in the world. But then Nash Dillon had always been about Nash Dillon.
When the medical examiner’s van pulled away, Detective Espinoza handed April a card. “You can drop off the dress anytime in the next few days.”
“I’ll do that.” She snatched his card and spun around to the screen door, leaving Clay and Nash talking shop.
She paced the floor a few times, and then plopped down on the couch, grabbing one of Clay’s perfectly placed pillows and hugging it to her chest. What was she doing here? That poor woman’s severed head must be some kind of omen. She should’ve never shown up on Clay’s doorstep. Should’ve never run to him for...what? Why did she come to Paradiso? Clay Archer had been the only bright spot for her here.
She couldn’t recreate the magic they’d shared. She’d destroyed that, taken a sledgehammer to it.
The door opened and Clay stepped into the house, sweeping the hat from his head and unbuckling his equipment belt. His weapon clunked against the kitchen counter as he set down the belt.
“What a crazy day.” He dragged a hand through his dark hair, which made it stick up in different directions. He held up the bag that contained his dinner and swung it from his fingertips. “I kinda lost my appetite. You want it?”
She stuck out her tongue. “No, thanks. Who was that woman?”
“Probably a drug mule who double-crossed Las Moscas. We found her body earlier, just outside a tunnel running across the border.” He braced his hands against the counter and hunched forward. “Are you really interested in this?”
Her fingers dug into the pillow. Las Moscas? He had no idea how interested.
“How do you know it was that gang, Las Moscas?”
“Cartel. Drug cartel and we know because the people who murdered this woman left their calling card in her hand.”
April swallowed. “A fly?”
Clay’s eyebrows jumped to his hairline. “How’d you know that?”
Shrugging, she schooled her face. “Las Moscas. The flies. I mean, not like a real fly, right?”
“Well, there were plenty of those.” He glanced up at her face, and his jaw tightened. “Sorry. They left a carved, wooden fly in her hand.”
April jumped up from the couch and tripped over the wedding dress. She made a grab for the back of the couch to stay upright.
“Are you all right?” Clay had taken a couple of steps closer to her, his brow creased.
“I’m okay. Like you said, it’s been a crazy day.” Her words stopped him in midstride.
He blew out a breath and shoved his hands in the pockets of his green pants. “Do you want to tell me what this is all about, April? The wedding dress? Coming to Paradiso? Adam isn’t here, is he? Is he in some kind of trouble?”
Oh, yeah, her brother was in all kinds of trouble, but he could get into trouble anywhere. It didn’t have to be Paradiso—where all their trouble had started.
“Adam isn’t here and I’ll be happy to tell you all about this—” she plucked at the dress “—but I’d like to change first, if you don’t mind. Detective Espinoza wants this dress, anyway, or at least pieces of it.”
Clay’s head swiveled as he took in the room. “Do you have a suitcase in your car?”
“No. I don’t have a bag with me. I don’t have anything with me.” She linked her fingers in front of her, holding her breath. If Clay tossed her out on her rear, she wouldn’t blame him.
Clay rolled his eyes. “All right. I have a pair of sweats you can probably use, and help yourself to a T-shirt. I’m gonna have a beer. You want one?”
“Sounds good.” She pointed to the hallway that led to his bedroom. “I’ll be right back.”
She slipped into his room and closed the door behind her, leaning against it and closing her eyes. She didn’t have to worry about a wife or a girlfriend. She’d kept tabs on Clay the past few years. She shouldn’t be happy that he’d remained single, but he always would have her heart. Ridiculous to think she could blot out the memory of Clay with someone like Jimmy—no matter how much Jimmy had seemed like Clay...at first.
She hadn’t known just how ridiculous until this morning—her wedding day.
She reached around and tugged at the zipper of the dress. She shrugged out of the straps, and the gown slipped from her body, pooling at her feet.
The shimmering white strapless bra and the lacy panties had to stay. She stepped out of the satin pumps and over the heap of material resembling a small mountain of foam on the floor.
She rummaged through Clay’s dresser and snagged a pair of army-green sweats with the Border Patrol insignia on the left thigh. She paired the sweats with a white T-shirt from a 10K in Tucson and tiptoed into the living room on bare feet.
Clay hadn’t moved from the
