Fall Into Me (11 page)

When he lifted his head, she clung to his shoulders, both of them breathing hard. He cradled her cheek in one palm. “I’m not asking you to believe now. I know it’s too soon for that, after…well, after everything. If you can believe just for this second, then for the one after that, and after that, soon you’re believing in me, in us, all the while. Think you can handle that? This second?”

She smiled, desire pulling at her again. “I can do that.”

An answering smile flirted with his mouth. He kissed her. “What about this one?”

“I can do that too.”

He lowered his mouth to hers again. “How about this one?”

Under the persuasion of his kisses, his touches, his lovemaking, she gave herself up to believing, just for now.

Angel woke, with a heavy male arm slung over her waist and an even heavier lump sitting in her throat. When she tried to slip away, he grumbled and tried to hold on. She stilled, struggling to breathe through the sickness determined to make her lose her cookies. Lord, she felt awful. Dragging air in through her mouth, she fought off a wave of nausea. What on earth…? Darn Hope and her new crab-dip recipe. This had to be bad seafood because the last time she’d felt this oh-my-Lord-I’m-going-to-be-sick awful had been after a plate of bad fried clams in Apalachicola.

The lump holding her throat hostage grew bigger and moved higher. Oh Jesus, she was going to throw up. She shoved Troy Lee’s arm aside, ignored his guttural protest and sat up, legs over the side of the bed. Her head swam and she clapped a hand over her mouth, willing the nausea away. Thankfully, the rush subsided, although she was left feeling distinctly queasy.

“Hey.” The bed shifted behind her and he brushed his lips across her bare shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, taking shallow breaths through her nose. This wasn’t exactly her preferred scenario when she envisioned waking up naked with an equally naked Troy Lee Farr. Naked and nauseous—yeah, that was a great combination. “My sister’s bad crab dip.”

A big hand covered her stomach in comforting warmth and he rested his cheek against her shoulder. “I’m sorry. Want something? Water or maybe some tea?”

The sick churning was fading. She pulled in a couple more breaths, feeling more herself. “I think I’m okay.”

He kissed the side of her neck. “So I’m guessing breakfast at Lisa’s and a walk is out of the question.”

She pushed her fingers through her hair. “Let me get a shower and we’ll see how I feel.”

“’Kay.” Another butterfly wing touch of lips on her shoulder. “I’ve got the whole day and I’d planned to just be with you, but if you’d rather I went away so you could veg and feel better, that’s all right.”

Her eyes prickled with unaccustomed tears. “You’re a sweetheart, but that’s okay.” She turned her head to drop a kiss on his hair, then his ear. “I want to be with you too.”

Something deep inside whispered that this time, she’d found the right man, found the one who would see her as something more.

And darn it, while she was believing second by second, she meant to enjoy every minute of it.

Working a double on a holiday weekend wasn’t Troy Lee’s idea of a good time. The family togetherness increased domestic disputes; too many celebratory drinks led to an increase in drunk drivers on the road.

After he intervened in yet another family get-together gone awry, he drew to a stop under the pecan tree that was his favorite spot to run radar on Gravel Hill Road and pulled his cell from his belt. Lowering the radio squelch, he let a little of the tension drain away. Another hour and he could change clothes, pick up his Jeep and meet Angel at the bar, spend a couple of hours with her there before they went back home to her place. Anticipation settled in him in a heavy rush.

He punched the keys for her speed dial and waited through three rings, that same anticipation filling him.

“Hello?” Beyond her sweet, breathless voice—the way she sounded when they were wrapped up in bed together—the buzzing chatter of voices blended with a Chris Cagle song.

“Hey, baby.” Merely talking to her swelled his chest with warmth and pleasure. “What’s going on?”

She laughed over a clinking of glass and ice. “I think half the county’s in here tonight.”

He slumped, more of the day’s tension draining away. “Well, I’m dealing with the other half, the ones that have all gone crazy.”

“Bad night?”

“Just busy.” He smiled. “Looking forward to seeing you.”

“Me too.” Her tone lowered to a sexy murmur.

“Feeling any better?” The queasiness from her sister’s crab dip had lingered on and off for the last two days. He’d been ready to insist she go to the convenient care center tomorrow if it didn’t clear up soon.

“Yes. A little…hey, what can I get you? Sorry, Troy Lee. A little tired but not sick anymore. What, Julie? Okay.” Her suddenly distracted voice flowed over him. “Listen, I have to go, but I’ll see you later. Are you coming by when you get off duty?”

“Sure thing. Later, baby.”

He’d no sooner replaced his phone at his belt, when the radio squawked. “Chandler, C-13.”

He reached for the mike. God, please not another domestic. “Go ahead, Chandler.”

Roger Gentry rattled off the information for a suspicious vehicle report, off Stagecoach Road. Troy Lee shifted into drive and pulled onto the blacktop, accelerating in the direction of Plymouth Bridge. “En route, Chandler. C-13, C-5, request backup.”

“10-4, C-13.” Chris’s voice crackled through the radio. “En route also, Chandler.”

Troy Lee slowed as the approached the bridge. The area was rural and deserted, and something about the bridge and the adjacent abandoned church always gave him the creeps. Lights off, using the moonlight as a guide, he turned onto the narrow dirt road by Plymouth Bridge Church. Behind him, the same moonlight bounced off Chris’s windshield, his unit proceeding without headlights as well. Low brush and tree limbs scrubbed at the car, and Troy Lee winced. He’d end up on the carpet over scratched paint before it was all over.

Beyond the church, the dirt path twisted a couple of times before opening up onto a sand pit. In the dark, a handful of vehicles surrounded the area and a fire burned in the middle, a bright beacon. Logs had been dragged up to provide seating and a group of kids sat around the flames. Even with his windows up, the music emanating from one of the trucks was audible. On a muffled groan, he reached for the mike, his radio set to the clear channel he and Chris had agreed on earlier. “Chris, you know what this is, right?”

Chris’s growl held aggravated disgust. “Another pasture party.”

Troy Lee knew the instant the teenagers heard his engine—they tensed and a couple rose, looking poised to flee. He hit his headlights and blue lights instantaneously, as Chris’s flared behind him. He angled his car to the left, leaving Chris the right, their vehicles creating an effective block to the only exit. Using his handheld radio, he called in their arrival to dispatch and stepped from the unit. Hound gave an audible whine as Chris left his own car.

As they approached the kids, all chatter quiet, the only sound pounding music coming from a brand new Ford pickup, Troy Lee let his gaze linger on hands, stances, faces, recognizing a few, including Paul Bostick who glowered at him from under a cap bearing the local high school logo. They’d given up any thoughts of running, and most hands were visible and empty. One or two boys had a hand behind their backs, likely concealing a beer bottle or can. At the edge of the circle, Troy Lee rested a foot atop a log and tapped the brim of his hat. “Evening. Y’all are out a little late, aren’t you?”

He received various mumbled replies. In the firelight, discarded bottles and cans, from beers to wine coolers, glimmered. He pulled his flashlight from its ring. “We need to see your ID, please.”

Keeping a close eye on them, he and Chris started at opposite ends and checked driver’s licenses. Not surprisingly, none of them were over nineteen, most of them still in high school. Halfway down the line, a tall, dark-haired youth held out his license in silence, a stoic expression on his face. Troy Lee flashed the beam over it and did a double take. Delbert Blake Calvert. Troy Lee swallowed a sigh. Oh hell, why did he know this was going to get sticky?

He showed the ID to Chris as he joined them, then passed it back to the boy. He and Chris stepped a few feet away.

“They’re all underage. Probably half of them have been drinking.” He pitched his voice low enough for only Chris to hear. “Easiest thing to do is transport them to the station, call parents to come get them and maybe put the fear of God in them.”

“Yeah.” Chris passed a hand over his nape. “We’re going to have to call someone in to help transport, though. I’ll handle that while you make them pour out the beer.”

With only the two of them, searching vehicles and interviewing the teens dragged. The quiet kids remained subdued and compliant, a little fact for which Troy Lee was grateful. The last party they’d busted up, he and Steve Monroe had ended up running through the woods after a couple of boys. Yeah, he liked to run, but not through the cold, damp pine forest in the dead of night.

Finally, a pair of headlights swept the clearing. Pouring out the last couple of cans of beer, Troy Lee took his gaze off the teens to glance at the unmarked unit pulling to a stop behind their cars. Wearing jeans and a polo instead of his investigator’s uniform, Cookie stepped from the driver’s seat.

“What’s going on?” he asked, joining Troy Lee.

Troy Lee dropped the cans into the trash bag at his feet. “Mrs. Coker called complaining about suspicious vehicle traffic out here. Chris and I show up to find them having a little party and they’re all underage. Figure the best thing is to call parents to come get them.”

Cookie’s nod was a sharp jerk of his chin. “If it’s a first offense, you’re right. Anybody we’ve seen before?”

“Other than Paul Bostick? Nope.” Troy Lee darted a look at the group, now seated in silence on the logs. “And Calvert’s nephew.”

“Blake?” Cookie’s surprised gaze arrowed in on the boy. He shook his head. “Del will have a fit.”

“I don’t think he’s been drinking, or if he has, it wasn’t much.” Troy Lee tied off the bag. “I didn’t smell anything on him and he seems cold sober. Not like a couple of the others, who are close to wasted.”

Cookie made a noise in his throat. “Lucky you didn’t end up chasing somebody through the woods again.”

“Yeah. Guess this group is smart.”

“What do you mean?”

Troy Lee grinned. “If they run, all they get is tired and caught. This group decided it was better to just be caught.”

Cookie’s laugh rumbled between them. “All right, let’s get them loaded up and back to town so we can start calling parents.”

Somehow, Troy Lee ended up transporting a group of four which included a pair of halfway-inebriated, completely frightened and bawling girls. By the time they pulled into the parking lot at the sheriff’s department, tension pounded at his temples. Instead of using the jail intake area, they ushered the teenagers into the squad room and set about procuring parent contact information and placing phone calls.

As he replaced the receiver from making his last parent call, his cell phone rang, the Cue Club’s landline displayed on the screen. He flipped it open and propped a hip on the empty desk opposite Cookie’s. “Hey.”

“Where are you? I thought you were coming by here.” Angel’s voice competed with the bar noises behind her and the still crying girls behind him. Even so, hearing her sent a wave of warmth through him.

“Yeah, so did I.” He glanced at the large clock hanging above the counter running along the back wall. Twenty minutes until one. Nearly eighteen hours on duty. He didn’t mind the overtime, but he’d much rather be with her.

“Let me guess…a last-minute call.”

“A long call. Busting up a pasture party.”

“Kids still have those things?”

“Looks that way.” He massaged his left temple, where the throbbing had concentrated. His eyes burned with exhaustion. He hadn’t realized how damn tired he was until he stopped.

“So, how long do you think you might be?” Wistful yearning colored her voice, lightening his weariness somewhat.

“Who knows?” He’d be here until all the kids were released to their parents. “Another hour at least, unless I’m really, really lucky.”

Cookie strolled in from the conference room, dropped the phone book back in his desk drawer and sank into his chair. He covered his eyes with both hands. From the front desk, Chris’s quiet voice murmured as he finished up his set of calls.

“Just for the record, Troy Lee, this part of dating a cop is the pits. I guess this means planning ahead when you’re on duty is out of the question?”

“Pretty much.” He shifted his position to relieve the pinch of his bulletproof vest at his waist, folded an arm over his chest and rested his elbow on his opposite wrist. “Sorry, Angel baby, but I think it’s a case of love me, tolerate my job.”

Cookie slanted an amused look at him, his mouth twitching.

“Who said I loved you?” The teasing rejoinder came in a sexy murmur.

“Hey, a guy can wish.” He cast a quick look at Cookie, then at the kids behind them and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Listen, I really don’t know how long this is going to take, but I want to see you tonight.”

“Me too. Do you need to change or pick up clothes first?”

“I do if we’re going anywhere in the morning, since someone won’t let me leave anything at her place. Afraid her mama—”

“Troy Lee. Behave.”

He laughed. “Do you really want me to?”

“On occasion and when it involves teasing me about my mama, yes.”

“All right.” He rubbed at his tired eyes. “It’s almost closing time for you. Y’all be careful and I’ll see you later if it’s not too late when I get out of here.”

She murmured a goodbye and the connection died. He clipped the phone on his belt again and met Cookie’s shrewd gaze. Troy Lee spread his hands. “What?”

A grin hitched up the corners of the older man’s mouth. “You’re smitten.”

“Maybe.” The wide smile that pulled at his lips was irresistible. Yeah, he was smitten, as Cookie put it, and it had to be all over his face. Damn it, he didn’t care. She was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Down the hall, the front door opened, a blend of irritated and concerned voices wafting to their ears, followed by Chris’s quiet reassuring tone. Troy Lee straightened. Time to deal with the parents.

Getting all of the kids released took more than an hour, as he, Cookie and Chris explained and answered questions, helped smooth out parental anger, soothed anxiety. Bubba Bostick arrived and strode into the squad room, livid and stiff with anger. He glared at Paul. “Boy, what am I going to do with you?”

Paul responded with only silent resentment and a mutinous look. Troy Lee shook his head. Glad that wasn’t his kid.

Hands at his hips, Bubba huffed and looked at Cookie. “Do I need to sign anything?”

“No.” Cookie slid a measuring glance in Paul’s direction. “But you might want to talk to him about making wise decisions when he’s already been in trouble lately.”

“Yeah.” Lips thinned with irritation, Bubba gestured at the doorway. “Well, come on, boy. Let’s go.”

Del Calvert appeared shortly after the Bosticks’ departure, his jaw tight and expression less than happy, but he didn’t direct his irritation at Blake. Instead, he sighed and clapped the boy on the arm. “Are you all right?”

Blake shrugged, a compact roll of his shoulders. “I’m okay. I’m not drunk, Daddy.”

Del shook his head. “We’ll talk about it in the morning. Let’s go home and get some sleep.” He directed a look at Cookie and the others. “Thank you.”

Once the squad room emptied, Cookie glanced at his watch. “All right, boys, let’s get out of here.”

Troy Lee twisted his wrist to check his Tag. Shit. After one thirty in the morning. Once he went home, cleaned up and grabbed clothes, then drove out to Angel’s…if she’d gone home at one when the club closed and gone to bed, she’d be asleep by then for sure. He didn’t need to wake her up, especially since she’d been fatigued all week after dealing with that bout of minor food poisoning. He heaved a rough sigh.

“Troy Lee?” Cookie paused in the doorway, watching him with brows drawn into a slight frown. “You coming?”