up enough to catch a last glimpse of the fleeing truck: black, two-door, no tag, two occupants. She sank down again, aware of the throb in her back, the water pooling around her, the leash wrapped around her calves, and silently matched Joe curse for curse.
He jerked free of her and the dogs before rising to his knees and working the leashes loose. His hands on her shoulders as he helped her sit up were gentle in contrast to his voice. “Are you okay?”
She nodded.
“Who the hell-What the hell was that?”
Gingerly she took a slow breath, deepening it until it hurt, before meeting his grim look. “My best guess is that it’s a warning.”
The question was, from whom?
Joe stood, gripping both leashes in one hand, and offered Liz a hand. He didn’t miss her wince as he pulled her to her feet. His movements jerky, he walked a few feet away, cussed, then came back. “A warning from whom? The Mulroney brothers? The feds? Or is someone else involved in this mess that I don’t know about?”
She shrugged, wincing again, and he unclenched his fist to touch her arm. Even through the cold vinyl, he could feel her heat, radiating, luring, tempting his fingers to move nearer, underneath the slicker, underneath her shirt to bare skin.
Probably bruised bare skin. “Did you land on something?”
“My purse.” Her smile was wry. “It felt like hitting a brick.”
“Do you need to go to the hospital? I can call someone.”
“No hospital. But maybe it would be better if you could get us a ride.”
“I’ll call Nat.” He moved under the spreading branches of a huge live oak before pulling out his cell phone and calling Natalia’s number. It rang five times before a canned recording came on: This is Natalia. Leave a message.
Jeez, where was she? She didn’t party, didn’t go to bars, didn’t have a social life outside of him. He was considering his next best choice-Pete Petrovski, who did have a social life-when an SUV pulled to the curb and Tommy Maricci rolled down the passenger window.
“You guys look like drowned rats. Especially that one.” He gestured toward Elizabeth, who raised her head regally and bared her teeth.
“Look, Liz,” Joe said drily. “We need someone to serve, and public service is in his job description.”
Maricci’s gaze shifted to Liz, revealing the kind of appreciation breathing men probably always showed her, though she was too preoccupied to notice, staring in the direction their would-be hit-and-runners had disappeared. Her lack of notice satisfied Joe in ways he wouldn’t consider at the moment.
“Come on. I’ll give you a ride. Even the rat and the walking furball.”
“Thanks.” Joe took a couple steps, then, when Liz didn’t move, backtracked and reached for her arm. He stopped, though, not sure where she was hurting, not wanting to cause her pain. “Hey. Come on. Let’s get out of the rain.”
She blinked, focused her gaze on his hand, still hovering a millimeter from her arm, then blinked again. “Yeah. I think I’ve had enough for one day.”
Neither dog needed any urging to get into the truck; Joe opened the rear door and they leaped inside. Liz eased into the backseat before reaching for the seat belt. He got it first, pulling the strap across her chest, leaning closer to fasten the buckle near her hip. She was pale, her expression unreadable. She murmured, “Thanks,” in a toneless voice, then huddled deeper in the slicker.
“What were you doing at River’s Edge?” Maricci asked as Joe settled in the passenger seat. “I thought the gates were locked up at night.”
“So did I.” Good thing that side gate had been open tonight. Getting caught between it and a two-ton vehicle would have been a sorry end to their walk in the rain. “I was looking for a dry place to use my phone.”
“The coffee shop’s sixty feet away and you choose the questionable shelter of a tree?”
Joe’s face felt too frozen to grin, but he managed anyway. “Then we would have made a mess, and I would have to clean it or Esther would bite off my head in the morning. Kind of like the mess the dogs are making back there.” To be fair, though, they hadn’t given a single shake and seemed content to sit and look out the back window.
“Yeah, you’re lucky I’m driving my own vehicle. If I’d had my department car, I would’ve left you standing. No drunks, no smokers, no food, no animals or people who smell like them in the Charger.”
“Is that police policy?”
“That’s Maricci policy.”
“So what are you doing out on a night like this if you’re not working?”
“Waiting for Ellie to get off. A couple of waitresses were no-shows this evening, so she stayed to help out.”
“That can’t be fun in her condition.”
Tommy snorted. “Even in her ‘condition,’ she could take you and me both.”
Joe glanced over his shoulder at Liz, silent and still. Was she uncomfortable with cops? Remembering when he’d said he would turn Josh over to Maricci if he showed up in town? Still shaken by their near-miss?
Joe was still shaken.
He and Maricci talked about nothing the rest of the way home. Maricci pulled into the parking space next to Joe’s house, then gave him a wry look. “Pollution, ozone and the environmental impact of drilling for oil aside, there are times when a car comes in handy, man.”
“Yeah, but walking the dogs isn’t one of them. Thanks for the ride.” Joe climbed out, then freed the dogs while Liz slid from the backseat. As Maricci backed out, they walked to the sidewalk that connected the three west-side houses. If he hadn’t still been mildly freaked out, he wouldn’t have noticed the movement on Natalia’s porch, but jumpiness made him look sharply in that direction.
In the dim light spilling from the living room window, Natalia was pulling off her shoes. She wore jeans and a dark slicker, the hood still pulled over her head.
His heart rate slowed a few beats. “Hey, Nat. Can you do me a favor?”
She stiffened, then shoved the hood back from her head. “Joe. I didn’t hear…”
That was why he never wore the hood on those things. “Can you take the dogs to my house and start drying them off? Liz fell while we were walking, and I want to get her inside.”
“Sure.” Ignoring her shoes, she came down the steps barefooted, took his keys and the dogs and headed next door.
“I can walk fifty feet by myself,” Liz commented.
“Yeah, and I can dry those mutts off by myself, but I’d rather not.”
In less than a minute, they were standing on her porch, stripping off their slickers, taking off their shoes. Liz pulled her keys from her bag and unlocked the door, and he followed her inside.
Their cottages might be identical in construction and layout, but that was where the similarities ended. His was comfortable-okay, even cozy-while hers was so empty that it echoed. The wicker sofa and matching coffee table were the only things in the living room, and except for a foam cup from SnoCap, the kitchen looked as if it hadn’t been used in decades. No pictures on the walls, no rugs on the floor, not a single personal thing anywhere besides the laptop computer on the table.
She went down the hall to the bathroom, then came back with a couple of towels. “Welcome to my humble home.”
“That’s one way of putting it. Jeez, even rent-by-the-hour motel rooms have more personality than this.”
“And you have a lot of experience with rent-by-the-hour motel rooms?”
He scowled at her. “You don’t even have a television.”
“I don’t watch much TV, and I can catch some of my favorite shows online.”
“No stereo?”
“I listen to music on the computer or my iPod.”
“Books? Newspapers?”
She gestured to the computer.
“Do you at least have a bed?”
She finished drying her feet and legs, then straightened to give him a long, level look. “I do. Want to see it?”
The towel had become unnecessary. The heat rising inside him spread through his veins, warming his skin, turning moisture to steam. He couldn’t hear the sizzle, though, over the roaring in his ears. He didn’t want to see her bed. He wanted to be in it. With her. For a long, long time. The rest of the weekend sounded like a good start.
He looked around for a place to lay the towel, then wrapped it securely around his fists. “No, thanks,” he said, half surprised his voice worked, though it sounded harsh and very much as if he were lying. “But I would like to see where you fell.”
She looked for a moment as if she’d forgotten about it, then gave a lopsided shrug. “It’s okay.”
“Just a look. Turn around.”
The look in her eyes suggested she was debating an argument, then, with a frown, she turned her back to him. Her purse came off first, dangling from her fingers to land with a clunk on the wood floor. Next she grasped the hem of her shirt and slowly peeled it up. Halfway to her shoulders, she stopped and stood motionless.
Just beneath the scrunched fabric was the band of her bra, narrow, lacy, black. Damn. Underneath that was skin, smooth, olive-toned, stretching across bone and muscle, tapering in at her waist, starting to flare again before her shorts blocked the view. Not a lot of skin. Not as much as he regularly saw on joggers and swimmers and girls at the shop. But it was Liz’s skin, and from the moment he’d met her, he’d wanted to see it, touch it, kiss it.
He closed his eyes briefly, took a shallow breath, then dropped the towel and walked to her. There was a mark in the middle of her back above her waist, where the skin dipped slightly over her spine, red and scraped, promising to add more colors to its palette by morning. He touched it gently and she shivered. Not because her skin was warm and his fingers were cold. He knew that instinctively.
“You’ll have a good bruise tomorrow.” His voice was thick, strained.
So was hers. “It won’t be the first. Three brothers, remember?”
He was warm and getting warmer. His fingers were still on her back, tracing lightly, and she wasn’t moving or pushing him away. It would be so easy to put both hands at her waist-
