Roxy didn’t say a word. She hadn’t said a word as they ran out of the building. She hadn’t said a word as they ran to the car. Getting away from the detectives had been priority number one. But they were on the road now. Far away from the arguing detectives.
“So.”
“So.” Rafe idled the truck behind another car, his blinker blinking. Blink-blink. Blink-blink.
“What happened back there?”
“What happened where?” His fingers drummed on the steering wheel.
“Back in the closet.” She could tell something happened. His body was wound tighter than a corset on a viscountess in a historical romance novel.
Rafe shook his head as he followed a car onto Boulder Highway.
“Come on, Rafe.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I could feel it. Back in the closet. What was the problem?”
“Dammit.” His hands gripped the steering wheel. Knuckles white. “Do we need to do this now?”
“Yes.”
He sped off the highway and found an empty lot. Then he slammed the car into park before turning to her. The setting sun haloed around his head. “Fine. Are you sleeping with MacAuley?”
“What?”
“He never answered the question.”
“Probably because it’s a dumb question.” She crossed her arms. Did he really think she’d jump into bed with MacAuley? Rafe and she had kissed. It wasn’t a marriage proposal, but she thought it meant something.
“If it’s such a dumb question, why won’t you answer it?”
“I don’t even know his first name. There’s no way I’m going sleep with someone when they won’t even tell me their first name.” She gazed out the front window. Then there was silence.
A lot of silence.
Roxy sighed. Loudly. “We should go. I need to get back to my car.”
Rafe pulled out of the lot and headed back onto Boulder Highway. Roxy stared out the side window, watching desert pass by in a blur. The silence settled on the car, sucking all the air.
She wanted to be mad. Okay. She was a little mad. She wasn’t some badge-bunny chasing after the first cop she found. And since they had shared not only a kiss, but Rafe’s hands sliding up and down her body—she would like to think he’d known her better than that.
Apparently not.
The scenery switched from desert to tracts of houses. The stifling lack of noise inside the car didn’t change.
“I’m sorry.” Rafe stared at her, and then focused back on the road. “It’s not you.”
“It sure felt like me. It felt like you were judging me.”
“Not you. I don’t trust MacAuley.”
“What the hell happened between you two?” Roxy turned in her seat to face Rafe. “He wasn’t very forthcoming with information. All I know is he was your best man and friend and now he’s not.”
“You talked to him?”
“I tried. He said it’s not his story to tell.” She sighed. Men.
“Of course he did.” His hand tightened on the steering wheel. “I told you I was married.”
Roxy nodded. She knew that much. They had gotten that far into the story. But that left more questions than answers.
“Monique and I were together for one year. In the beginning, it was great. But then I got a promotion and she got a promotion. We were both successful.” He said successful like it was four-letter word. “We didn’t have much time for just the two of us. So, one night I came home, and I found them.”
Them?
No way.
“That lying jerk.” She’d believed MacAuley when he said that he hadn’t slept with Rafe’s wife. No wonder he didn’t want to tell her the story. He was a cheater, cheater, friend mistreater.
“What?”
“I asked MacAuley if he pulled a Bridget Jones. Well, not really a Bridget Jones but a Daniel Cleaver…” Her voice faded as Rafe looked at her like she was from Venus, eyebrows scrunched together. How did he not get the reference? “You know, like Daniel Cleaver who was the best man at Mark Darcy’s wedding and then slept with Mark’s wife. He was like a total scoundrel. Even the mom said so.”
Rafe shook his head and a smile tugged at his lip. “He didn’t pull a Bridget Jones.”
“Oh.” She sat back and waited. She might have read the situation wrong. “Who did you find?”
“I came home and found my commander and my wife in my bed.”
Whoa. “That sucks. Is that why you left Las Vegas PD?”
“No, I left Las Vegas PD when I found out that my supposed best friend knew about it and didn’t tell me.”
MacAuley was obviously the best friend in this scenario. “Maybe he just hadn’t had time to tell you?”
“He knew for two years.”
“But you were only married for one year.”
“You can see how the math doesn’t quite work.”
“Why didn’t he tell you before you married her?” Don’t say it wasn’t his secret to tell. Don’t say it wasn’t his secret to tell.
“He said it wasn’t his secret to tell.”
Well, that would explain the ex-best-friend thing. She sagged against the seat. How could a best friend think that was okay? She’d never do that to Sarina, and she’d be heartbroken if Sarina did that to her. There are some codes that shouldn’t be broken. Hiding the last cupcake— totally okay. Hiding that the love of your life is a lying, cheating scumbag—not okay. And really, when it came to your BFF, the cupcake thing wasn’t okay either.
Rafe left the highway and headed toward the strip, where her car was still parked at Diamonds Gentlemen’s club. Since the cops were at the other building, they weren’t at Diamonds.
No. They were at the other building fighting over her. “Do I look guilty?”
He merged and made a right onto Las Vegas Boulevard before his hand found hers. “Look? Yes. But you’re not.”
“But only you and MacAuley believe that.”
“True. Despite MacAuley being a huge dick, he’s a good cop.” Rafe brought her fingers to his lips. The softest brush of lips. The slightest tickle of breath.
And her body was goo.
He dropped her hand and turned into the Diamonds’ parking lot. “You have me. I might not be on the force, but I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.”
He did have tricks up that sleeve—like those thick, well-defined biceps she felt in the closet. Not that she’d noticed.
Rafe drove through the lot, but he didn’t stop by her car. “My car is right there.” She pointed, but he kept going, pulling up to the exit on the other side. She spun her body in the seat to see if there was something wrong with her car. Nothing. “Umm. It’s that way.”
“Are you ready to talk to the cops?” He tapped his blinker and tick-tock filled the cab.
Cops? One thought she was guilty and the other was a jerk. “No.”
“There are cops on your car.”
She twisted as far as the seatbelt would allow. Her piece of crap sat there alone—well, surrounded by other cars. No people. “There’s no one on my car.”
“The blue Suburban two aisles over.”
She counted two aisles and found the giant SUV with two people sitting in the front seat—a man and a woman. “How do you know they’re cops? Maybe they’re going to have a quickie.”
“If they were interested at all, they’d at least be looking at each other. They’re not making out. Their focus is outside the car.”
“As in, my car.”
“That would be my bet.”
“What am I gonna do?” Now she didn’t have a car. How would she get places? She had responsibilities. Not that she had a job she had to get to in the morning. But she had things to do… No, she didn’t. Outside of this investigation, she really had nothing to do. The realization was sad.
“I can take you home, but there’s a good chance they posted someone there as well.”
She couldn’t go home. She had no car. Given the text yesterday, Sarina was probably on-again with Cliff, which meant trying to sleep on the couch while listening to the headboard bang against the wall. There was always her mom, but since her partner Danielle was a doctor and usually on call, Roxy would be stuck dealing with her mother and her judgement. Her father’s place wasn’t much better. No judgement, just a woman half her age trying to get Roxy to braid her hair and call her mom. The choices were stupefying.
And by stupefying, she meant stupid.
“You can stay at my place.”
“What?” Roxy was hearing things now. She could’ve sworn she heard Rafe say she could stay at his place.
“If you need a place to lay low for a few days, you can stay with me.”
So that wasn’t a figment of her imagination.
“Unless you want me to take you to the precinct. You have to face them sooner or later.”
“I choose later.” It was true, she had to face them. Eventually. But knowing they thought she was guilty? Knowing they might not let her leave? She needed to figure some things out before she entered their lair. She needed the upper hand. Preferably another name to replace hers at the top of their list.
“So where to?”
“Your place.” The ramifications of those words hit straight to her core. Spending the night in Rafe’s house with him was such a bad idea. They needed to focus on finding the bad guys, not on finding her G-spot.
Although looking at his hands—remembering the feel of those hands— she had a feeling he already knew where hers was. Just thinking about it made her body hum.
But they were just friends. Friendly friends.
She had to keep remembering that, no matter how much her G-spot wanted to be found by that man.