Stranger At My Door (A Murder In Texas) (17 page)

He raised his head and gazed up at her. His eyes were black and glazed and triumphant. He pulled himself up until he lay over her, and his erection pressed against her. She raised her hips to him, seeking him, yearning to have him inside her, filling her, releasing her.

For the briefest of seconds, he froze, and she opened her eyes and met his. A glimmer of an unfamiliar emotion flickered across his dark irises. Then his eyelids closed, and he pushed into her, stretching her body to fit his, inhabiting her like a missing piece of herself. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she let him ride her until her body shattered into a thousand exquisite, exploding pieces that tore at the hard resolve protecting her vulnerable heart. She’d never get her fill of this man. If they did this a thousand times, she’d still want more.

Her breath was still coming in gasps when Rafe collapsed over her. His lips found her forehead and moved against her skin. She kissed his damp shoulder, the scent of musk and sweat circling her head like incense.

Rafe shifted and brought his mouth close to her ear. “You are in my blood,
querida
. Never forget.”

He rolled off her, then cradled her with his body, her head and back against his damp chest, his warm knees against her thighs. Dinah stared into the darkness. The streetlight twinkled as it did every night. Her perfume bottle and brush and picture of Momma cast a familiar jumble of shapes against the mirror over her dresser. Her flip-flops rested under the dresser where she’d kicked them when Rafe brought her back from the cabin. All the same as last night. But it suddenly felt like a stranger’s room.

It was Rafe’s fault, of course. He’d been amazing. Too amazing. She didn’t need an emotional complication in her life. Not now, and certainly not with him.

She twisted in his arms.

His eyes opened, and he shot her a sleepy smile. “What?”

She threw him her most beguiling look, heavy-lidded with the hint of amusement hovering on her lips. Her hands glided up his belly and over his chest, then she threw her leg across his hip and tried to push him back against the mattress. “Now I’m going to turn you on.”

His eyes opened wide, and his expression sobered. He studied her face, his mouth so close to hers, she could feel the warmth of his breath against her face. His lips curled into a weary smile.

“Go to sleep, Di.” He spoke softly, but beneath his words was something hard and final. She opened her mouth to protest, and he caught her lips with his own and kissed her. “Please,
querida
.”

He released her and turned his back on her. She fell asleep to the light brush of her bottom against his, up and down, as he breathed.

The next morning when she woke up, he was gone.

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Here you go, girl.” Dinah set Daisy’s food bowl down. The dog sniffed at the kibble, then nudged Dinah’s knee with her snout. “Not hungry? Me, neither.”

Waking up alone, naked, beard-burned, smelling of man and sex, it was hard not to feel abandoned and—she was willing to admit it—sorry for herself. He left without saying good-bye. Had he tiptoed out of her room, fearful of waking her, or had he snuck out so he wouldn’t have to face her? What was he feeling? Happiness, regret, triumph, disgust?

He called her
querida
, my love, and even the memory of that whispered word, husky and hungry against her ear, caused a warm well of happiness to flow through her. She smiled, then pulled the corners of her mouth into a tight line. She was doing the one thing she’d sworn she’d never do. She was falling in love.

Daisy stiffened. Her throat vibrated with a deep growl.

“What is it? What’s wrong, girl?”

The dog pushed past Dinah, bounding from the kitchen with the energy of a charging army. She leapt against the door, leaving deep scratches in wood already battered from Rafe’s dramatic entry earlier in the summer.

“Who’s there?” Dinah grabbed Daisy’s collar and yanked open the door, half-expecting to be confronted by a wall of flashing, clicking cameras. But the drama last night seemed to have appeased them and the street was empty except for a single patrol car.

“Police, ma’am.” The young cop who’d been sitting in a cruiser all morning loomed on the threshold. Behind him, was Hollyn, still alive, still pregnant, and still in her Cowboys jersey—although one sleeve was torn. Her hair was a tangled mess and a long, thin scratch cut across her cheek.

Relief flooded through Dinah. “Hollyn! Oh, Hollyn, thank the Lord.”

Hollyn tipped her face up. Her eyes were huge and round as they met Dinah’s. Disquiet flickered in Dinah. Where had Hollyn been for the past twenty-four hours? Then she pushed the feeling away. Hollyn was Dinah eight years ago. Lost and alone. Too young to face to face the world head on, yet forced to do it all the same.

“Miss Dinah. I told this, uh, policeman I live here, but he didn’t believe me.” Hollyn’s mouth tightened with anger.

“It’s okay, officer. I will vouch for her.”

Dinah pushed past the officer, trotted down the stairs, and pulled Hollyn into her arms. Hollyn stiffened and broke the embrace.

She must have seen the surprise on Dinah’s face, because she trained her eyes on the ground before mumbling, “I smell to the high heavens, Miss Dinah.”

Dinah gathered herself. “Of course, honey lamb, let’s get you in the house.”

“Ma’am, no one is allowed in without Officer Morales’s say-so.”

She crossed her arms and met the eyes of the young, fresh-faced cop.
Are you going to stop me?

An older or more experienced officer might have stood his ground or at least asked a few questions, but this one blushed, then tipped his hat and stepped back. “I’ll be right out front. Holler if you need me, ma’am.”

…

Rafe was not having a good morning.

When he’d wandered into B.J.’s Café for his morning coffee and eggs, the small assembly of customers had gawked at him. He’d wanted to check his fly but, of course, every eyeball in the restaurant was glued to him so he toughed it out until he took his regular stool at the counter, casually glancing downward to make sure his jeans were secure. They were.

Angie studied him as she poured his coffee.

“Spit it out, Angie. What the hell is going on around here?”

“Folks have been chattering about you and Miss Dinah all morning.”

He thought about where he’d spent last night and swallowed hard before he answered. “Yeah? Why’s that?” But the words sounded strained even to him.

Angie shot him a sympathetic look. “Here.” She pulled a newspaper off the stack by the counter and set it in front of him. “On the house.”

He stared at the photo on the front page of the
Austin Statesman
. One of those dang photographers had captured the moment last night when he’d pulled Dinah to him and ordered her back inside the house. But his face was bent close to hers, and her body curved softly in his arms. It appeared he was about to kiss her.

His gaze swung to Angie’s face. She raised an eyebrow.

“Miss Dinah was upset. I had to bring her bad news,” he said.

Angie shrugged. “If you say so. I’ll get your eggs.”

Mercifully, Rafe’s phone began to vibrate. “Morales here.”

“I know you’re not on duty until tonight, but you said to call—”

“What is it, Burns?”

“Miss Dinah has a visitor. Caucasian female, medium height, reddish-blond hair, pregnant—”

“You let her inside?”

The quiet chatter around Rafe died away, and a dozen faces turned in his direction. “Sorry.” He lowered his voice. “Where is the girl now?”

“In the house. She appeared to be in some trouble.”

“Trouble?”

“Well, her face was scratched and her clothing was torn. There were abrasions on her wrists. Could have been from rope.”

“Shit.”

“I tried to stop her, but Miss Dinah was having none of it.”

Too many things just didn’t fit with that girl. But he’d never convince Dinah, which meant he had to protect her from a suspect who was not only living under her roof, but sleeping in the bedroom down the hall.

He slipped the newspaper under his arm, dug five bucks out of his jeans and plunked it on the lunch counter. “Thanks for the coffee, Angie.”

“What about your eggs?”

He called over his shoulder as he sprinted to the door. “Another time.”

When Rafe pulled up in front of Dinah’s, Burns was leaning against the patrol car, arms crossed, gazing unhappily at the bungalow.

Rafe banged out of his Jeep. “You can take a break, Burns. I’ll be here for awhile.”

“But the sarge—”

“I’m the in-charge officer on this case. I’ll take over the watch until further notice.”

Burns nodded. “Sure thing.” But he eyed Rafe as if he knew there was more to Rafe’s appearance at Dinah’s house than “the case.”

As Burns’ car disappeared around the corner, Rafe’s gaze rose to Dinah’s bedroom window. That morning he’d stood beside her bed, pulling on his pants, hating like hell to leave. She’d been curled away from him, and her naked body, glowing in the early dawn had beckoned. With his eyes, he’d traced her long tan back with the thin white line from her bikini top, the little dimples where her hips flared, the soft pink flesh between her legs, the tiny mole behind her knee. His mouth had dried at the thought of tasting all those places, but the ache of wanting her more than she seemed to want him pulled him back. He’d draped the sheet over her and walked out.

He approached the house slowly, eager and nervous in equal parts. When he knocked, she opened the door immediately, like she’d been watching for him, waiting. He met her eyes. Love flickered in their green depths, then it was gone. But he’d seen enough. There was hope. If he could overcome her distrust of love, there was hope.

A heavy silence filled the space between them, and her throat bobbed from a hard swallow.

“Are you here about Momma? Did they find her?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Not yet.” That’s why she’d opened the door so fast. Not because of him.

“You saw the newspaper, didn’t you?” Her cheeks flushed. “I’m so sorry, Rafe. This is all my doing.”

He searched her face for a sign of what she was feeling, but she refused to meet his eyes and her expression was closed. He stumbled through an appropriate answer. “Don’t worry about it. You were upset. It will blow over soon enough.” He raised a brow and tried to make her smile. “It’s not like we were doing anything private.”

“I just don’t want people to get the wrong idea about us.”

His gut twisted. “I’m not sure what the wrong idea would be.”

“I guess you heard Hollyn’s back.”

“I guess I did. I need to talk to her.”

“You better come in.” She stepped aside for him.

“Where is she?”

“Upstairs. Washing up.”

“Burns said she was roughed up a bit.”

Dinah’s face crumpled. “Oh, Rafe, you should have seen her. All scratched up. The poor thing—”

He couldn’t stop himself. He needed to touch Dinah. His hand closed around her wrist and lifted it. The welts from the ropes had scabbed over, but still, it infuriated him that they were there at all. Sutton would pay, but so would his accomplice. Rafe bent his head and kissed her palm.

A soft breath, quick, indrawn, escaped from Dinah. “Why did you leave without saying good-bye?”

“You were sleeping. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Come on, Rafe. Don’t bullshit me.”

He didn’t know where to start. “Can we talk about this later?”

“No.”

Okay. She wanted it straight. He’d give it to her. At least he’d know where he stood. “I love you, Di.” Something shifted inside him. The full force of what he’d said, hit him. He loved Dinah Pittman with a strength that nearly knocked him off his feet, and he was glad.

Her eyes widened. She looked up at him and met his gaze. A sense of dread squeezed his heart, and his throat constricted. He wanted to punch something. He wanted to touch her.

“I…don’t know,” she said.

“Don’t know?” That came out too aggressive. He forced himself to breath.

She tilted her head sympathetically.
Here it comes.

“I like you. A lot. But—”

He cut her off angrily. “Don’t bullshit me, Di.”

She shot a glance over her shoulder and lowered her voice. “Your timing blows. Hollyn just got back.”

He grabbed onto Hollyn like a drowning man finding a buoy. “I’m here to see Hollyn. We have some questions for her. Then I’ll get out of your way.”

“Rafe.” Her hand pressed against his arm, and his ferocious need for her pulled through his body. He wanted to reclaim his arm, to save himself from his feelings for her, but he couldn’t. He let her hand stay.

“Rafe.” She said his name again, but sadly. “You are the best thing that’s happened to me in a long, long time. But, I can’t— I can’t love you. I’ll just hurt you if I try.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“Can’t we just enjoy each other while I’m here? Leave it at that?”

“Is this because I’m a cop?” He sounded ridiculous even to himself.

“It’s not that.” Her palm brushed down his arm and fell away. “I’m ruined, Rafe. I barely trust my own shadow much less another human being. We’ll start out great. Lots of plans, lots of excitement, lots of sex. Then I’ll get scared and do something you can’t forgive.”

“Has that happened? Have you done something, uh, unforgiveable?”

“Just once.” The words sounded like a plea for help, and he nearly pulled her into his arms. Maybe she felt the impulse light up his nervous system before he did, because she folded her arms before going on. “It was in college. I cheated on him. This great guy loved me, and I. Cheated. I’m better off with assholes…like me.”

“I see.” But he didn’t. Whether it was anger at her rejection that burned away his reason or just blindness where Dinah was concerned, he didn’t know. But he wasn’t ready to walk away. “You win. We’ll do it your way.”

Startled green eyes met his. “My way?”

“Lots of sex, no strings attached.”

She frowned. “It won’t change my feelings.”

“I’m a guy. I like a good fuck, and you’re offering.” He tore his gaze from hers before she could read the pain in his eyes and studied the steps. “Where’s Hollyn? I need to talk to her.”

“Upstairs.” Her voice hitched, and his heart ached. “Have a seat in the living room. I’ll get her.”

Tense, mumbled conversation drifted down the staircase and into the living room. He caught a word here and there, but he didn’t really need to hear much to understand Hollyn didn’t want to see him. He wasn’t surprised. It took about thirty minutes for her to appear.

Footsteps approached, and he rose.

Dinah was at Hollyn’s side, holding her upper arm like a prison guard escorting an inmate. He glanced at her belly. Damndest thing he’d ever seen. A gal who’d been nine months along for going on four weeks now, and no bigger than when he first laid eyes on her. He let his gaze drift up, inspecting her for signs of trauma. Except for a scratch on Hollyn’s cheek and some mild abrasions on her wrists, she appeared to have weathered her ordeal better than Dinah, whose eye socket still sported a deep bruise and whose wrists and ankles were ringed with thick scabs.

“You don’t mind if I sit with Hollyn while you talk to her, do you?” Dinah asked.

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

“Just because you’re mad at me doesn’t—”

“This is official business, Miss Dinah. If you would prefer, Hollyn and I can have our talk down at the station.”

The blood drained from Hollyn’s face, and her knees buckled.

“Was that necessary?” Dinah snapped as she steadied Hollyn. “The poor thing’s been through hell, and in her condition, any sort of disturbance could be dangerous.”

His tightly coiled temper frayed. “Womenfolk have been dropping babies since before the Bible was handed down. Even the disturbed ones, as you put it. Never heard it brought anyone to grief.”

Dinah flinched, and he wanted to pull her into his arms and apologize. He swiveled in Hollyn’s direction before he turned into Dinah’s fool again.

Hollyn’s eyes narrowed. She shot him a look of pure hatred hot enough to put a hole in his forehead.

He’d get nothing out of her unless he got himself together. He thrust Dinah from his head. “Forgive my poor manners, ladies.” He bowed his head in Dinah’s general direction and waved his hand at the chair beside him. “Please sit down, Miss Hollyn, and make yourself comfortable. There’s nothing to worry about. I just want to get your account of what happened.”

Hollyn disengaged herself from Dinah and sat, smoothing down her jersey and folding her hands on her lap. When she looked over at Rafe, her face was a blank mask, expressionless and innocent, her eyes wide and vacant.

She’s been questioned before.

Dinah still hovered in the doorway. Her clean, soapy fragrance filled his head, but he didn’t dare look at her. “Thank you for allowing us to use your home, Miss Dinah.”