CHAPTER 23

It was after midnight when I pulled the van into Rhonda’s driveway. Sophia and I sat in silence for a while, staring at the house. It was past Rodney and Rhonda’s bedtime. Gram had probably gone to sleep hours ago so there were no quick peeks between the blinds. The house was totally dark. I wondered if I should wake Rodney to show him the fruits of our labor. Or the spoils of one man’s life would probably be more like it.

“What now?” Sophia asked.

I was pretty sure she was referring to the situation with Denny and not our own almost-front-seat action. “I’ll print a couple of the pictures, then pay him a visit tomorrow.”

“I’d like to go with you.”

I grinned. “Enjoying my company that much, huh?”

She glared at me a moment with her brows lowered, perfect lips fighting back a smile. “Um … no. My editor’s given me a deadline.”

“Deadline? You can’t—”

She held her hand up to shush me. “I’m not going to jump the gun. But writing about it was kind of my purpose on this whole thing, remember?”

I sat back in the seat and nodded. It seemed a little strange knowing this investigation might be over in a few days. “I’ll probably be ready to turn everything over to the Rangers’ office by the end of the week. I’ll show you what I’ve got if you’ll show me yours.” I looked at her and winked.

She tossed her head back and laughed. “I have a pretty good idea what you’ve got. I could feel it through my shorts.”

She laughed again, then climbed out of the van. I hurriedly caught up to her as she was reaching for the door of the Mercedes. I blocked her with my good leg from opening it, then wrapped my arm around her waist and turned her toward me.

“Gypsy…” She whispered so softy I wondered if I imagined it.

I lightly kissed her chin, then her cheek, and when she didn’t resist, I kissed her lips.

“Gypsy … I can’t.” She was saying one thing but her body was telling me something different. She brought her arms up, wrapping them around my neck, digging her fingers through my hair, pushing her tongue deep into my mouth. “I have a partner,” she said between gasping breaths.

Jesus. Another freaking husband to deal with. She kissed me again hard, biting at my lip. I’d worry about the husband tomorrow.

Hands started moving so fast it was hard to keep up with who was doing what. We moved backward toward the van, stumbling over each other’s feet. I would have died before screaming out in pain when she stepped on my snake-bitten foot. We crashed noisily into the side of the van with me on the outside pressing her hard against the closed door. She ripped open my shorts as I worked the button on her own. A few weeks ago, prior to a Western Diamondback trying to take my foot off, I would have lifted her, balanced her legs on my hips, and drove it home. But things being what they were, it wasn’t working out that way. Dammit! This gimpy foot was cramping my style.

“Shit!” I pulled her away from the van and pushed her toward the Mercedes.

There wasn’t much distance between the van and her car but when you’re trying to get there with your pants around your ankles, it’s a wonder we got there at all.

The back of the van was still loaded with my case files. Her Mercedes was a sharp-looking little car but had no backseat. And there was no way in hell this was going to happen in the front seat. I lifted her onto the shiny red hood. It was the perfect height. She’d lost her shorts somewhere in the shuffle and all was right with the world.

If there had been a soundtrack, just about the time the music swelled into a crashing crescendo threatening to send us both into another hemisphere, I moved my foot a fraction of an inch and stepped on her shorts, smashing the keys in the pocket into the hard ground.

A prison break alarm couldn’t have caused more noise. There were so many bells and whistles, I didn’t know if I was having an orgasm or if I’d won the grand prize at the county fair.

A woman can stop at any time. A man’s different. A man reaches a point, come hell or high water, bells or whistles, there just ain’t no turning back. Not even when the floodlights in the yard come on, every light in the house flashes on, and your brother-in-law barrels through the front door with his service weapon drawn wearing nothing but tight white briefs and cowboy boots.

“Gypsy? Ah, Jesus … Christ Almighty! What in the hell are you doing?” Rodney shouted over the alarm. He paced in small circles in the dirt yard, one hand on his head while the other partially covered his eyes.

Rhonda was on the front stoop, arms folded tight across her chest. “Can you at least shut the alarm off?”

I jerked my shorts up and was trying to get them fastened while Sophia was dancing around trying to get her shorts back on. She finally snatched her keys up and hit the right button and the little car fell silent. It was like someone had pressed the mute button on the whole world as there wasn’t even a cricket chirping. After a short spell of dead silence, the screaming resumed.

“What the hell were you doing?” Rhonda screamed, arms flaying about.

“What the hell do you think he was doing?” Rodney asked.

Gram joined Rhonda on the stoop and peered out into the yard. “Why’s your husband out here in his drawers?”

“Everything’s fine, Gram. Go on back to bed.”

“Gypsy finally get some from that cute little Mexican?”

“Gram, please go back to bed.”

Sophia jerked the keys from my hand. “I’ll meet you at the sheriff’s office in the morning. Tenish?”

I quickly nodded and helped her into the car. I was going to kiss her good-bye but she had already backed out and was moving at a quick clip down the road before I had even bent over. Given the way the night had gone, maybe a good-bye kiss wasn’t necessary. At this point it probably wasn’t even desired.

Rhonda threw her arms up in the air. “And what the hell were you doing out here? Jesus! Why didn’t you get a room?” She spun around and pushed past Gram. “I’m going in. Rodney, come in before someone sees you standing out here in your underwear. Geez.”

Gram chuckled and followed Rhonda inside. Rodney stomped up the steps. He made sure Rhonda was safely inside, then turned and glared at me. “Yeah, why didn’t you get a room? You’ve gone and ruined every fantasy I could have ever had.”

“What? How’d I—”

“Sophia. You think I can ever fantasize about her again without seeing your shiny white ass banging her?” he whispered.

“Oh.” We stood there for a moment with neither saying anything. Although I didn’t understand why, I felt the need to apologize. “Sorry, man.”

He shrugged. His lips were knotted in a silly-looking pout. “S’okay. Probably would have done the same thing if I’d been given the chance. And if I were single.”

“Yeah,” I said slowly then sighed. “It’s getting late and you’re still … standing out here, in your underwear. And that’s not exactly a pretty sight, either. Much longer and I’ll be traumatized.”

“You want to talk about traumatized…”