“So?”
“You could get arrested.”
“For talking to her? I did nothing wrong.”
“Except use your charm and seductive smile to get answers out of her.”
“Whatever works,” he looked at me sideways. “You think I have a seductive smile?”
I jabbed him in the ribs again.
The door to room 109 was just like all the others—dingy and probably covered in invisible germs. I silently wished for a pair of gloves.
Luke knocked.
“What are you going to say if Clark is here?” I asked.
“I’m going to ask him some questions, that’s all. I don’t have jurisdiction here, so if I think there’s something suspicious, I’ll have to get the local authorities involved.”
Luke knocked again.
“I don’t think anyone’s home.” I tried to peek in the windows. “Wait, I think I see something.”
Luke took my place. “Yep, those are legs.”
Two skinny legs attached to a pair of cheap heels lay on the floor, the rest of the body obstructed from view by the bed.
Luke pounded harder on the door. The legs didn’t move. He tried the handle.
Nothing.
“I’ll go back and see if I can get a key.” But before I could walk away, Luke lifted a leg and kicked the door in. “Or you can just kick it down, I guess.”
“Flimsy motel doors,” he muttered.
As soon as the door was open, a pungent aroma of dirty socks, urine, and something I couldn’t quite put my finger on hit me—not that I would want to put my finger on or anywhere near a smell like that. The room was dusty and dark, clothes spread all over the floor and beds in a right mess.
Luke stepped inside, gun drawn.
“What is that smell?” I asked.
“Why don’t you stay outside?” Luke said without looking at me. “We may need to call an ambulance . . . or a coroner.” He said the last part under his breath, but I heard it just the same.
Those legs couldn’t possibly belong to another dead body. This was not what I signed up for.
Luke cleared the bathroom first then made his way around the single queen-sized bed holding his flashlight to see in the dim light. His face turned from intense concentration to disgust in a split second.
“Ma’am?” He nudged the legs with the tip of his pristine Adidas shoe. “Ma’am?” He bent down and I followed. I didn’t care what I was going to see. Being a firefighter hadn’t been all sunshine and rainbows. I was a big girl, I could handle it, and maybe I could help.
The body of a limp girl—or woman, rather—lie in an odd position, face down with her arms and legs skewed all over the place. A pool of vomit intermingled with limp strands of blonde hair, now stained a putrid orange.
Luke rolled her over and checked for a pulse. Just as I was about to let out a breath, he nodded. “She’s alive. Barely. Call an ambulance.”
I gladly removed myself from the horrid scene and called 9-1-1.
“It looks as though she may have overdosed,” Luke said once the ambulance had taken her away. “She may be another victim. I’d like to stay in town until she regains consciousness.”
I nodded.
“If you want to get back, I can call you a cab, or you can take my truck and I can rent a car . . .”
I shook my head. “I’m off tomorrow, and I want to know what happened too.”
Luke nodded. “Then let’s find somewhere to stay.”
“Preferably not this place.” I gestured to the motel we were in, where visitors had returned to their rooms after playing looky-loo when the ambulance arrived.
“Couldn’t even if we wanted to. There’s some sort of convention in town, and it’s completely booked.”
What kind of convention? An illegal pharmaceutical convention?
At least this meant we’d get a better room than the one that girl nearly died in.
“I’ll check around and see what’s available, okay?” Luke asked.
I nodded.
I don’t know whether it was unfortunate or fortunate that there was literally only one room left in the entire twenty-mile radius. My heart fluttered with the thought of spending a night in such close proximity to Luke, but then the rush of anxiety brought me back to my senses.
“Holy moly, this is our room?” I walked into a room that looked like Valentine’s Day had thrown up at a New Year’s Eve party. Long-stemmed red roses in crystal glasses graced tabletops, a bright pink down comforter lay across the king-sized bed, a glittery chandelier hung from the ceiling.
Luke’s face matched the rosy red curtains. “It’s all they had.”
Champagne and chocolate covered strawberries sat on a silver rollaway cart near the bed. “What did you tell them?”
“They inferred. I—I didn’t . . .”
His face made me dissolve into a fit of giggles. It felt good to laugh around him again, to shake off some of the awkwardness from the truck.
I took a bite of one of the strawberries and savored the sweetness as its juice ran down the corner of my mouth. “Mmmmm, these are delicious.” I held one out and he took a bite.
“Mmmm.” His face softened as he gazed down at me. “They are good.” He licked his lips, but bits of chocolate stuck to the corners.
“Here, you have something . . .”
I reached up to wipe the chocolate off with my thumb but he caught my hand in his. His eyes were pools of chocolate themselves, begging for the go-ahead. Before my anxiety could hit, I stood on tiptoe and pressed my lips against his.
At first, he hesitated, unsure, but within seconds his arms were wrapped around my waist, pulling me into him. His tongue eagerly met mine. It felt like being back in high school all over again, except different. He may not have dated anyone seriously, but he certainly had improved his technique.
I pulled him closer as his hands searched my back and up my sides. I wanted him, now, in this gaudy, overdone, excruciatingly beautiful room. I wanted to sink with him into the pink down comforter and feel his weight above me. I wanted—
“We can’t.” He pulled away, his eyes still closed
