Rafe could have snapped the finger in half. Instead he calmly reached to pull out his wallet, extracting one of Lucas’s fancy-schmancy business cards with the gold edging. “You want to talk to me, you can arrange a meeting with my partner. He’ll contact my lawyer.”
The sheriff snatched the card to read the bold lettering, his face paling at the name.
Even small-town cops were familiar with the powerful St. Clair family.
Grudgingly backing away, the older man hitched up his pants and sent them a last glare. “I have my eye on you,” he warned. “Both of you.”
The man stomped across the parking lot to climb into his patrol car and take off with enough force to send a spray of gravel in the air.
Rafe resisted the urge to flip off the blowhard, instead concentrating on the woman who was trembling from head to toe.
“God,” she breathed, clearly distressed by the sheriff’s confrontation.
Reaching around her, Rafe shoved open the door directly behind her and urged her into the room. “Get your things,” he said in a tone that defied argument.
With a frown she turned to watch him close the door, hiding them from any prying eyes. “Why?”
“You can’t stay here,” he said, grimacing as he glanced around the cramped room that looked as if it hadn’t been updated since the Beatles era.
Warped paneling, shag carpeting, and an orange floral bedspread.
Groovy.
Annie glared at him, but she couldn’t disguise her lingering unease. “I can stay wherever I want.”
Rafe forced himself to take a deep, steadying breath. As much as he wanted to toss her over his shoulder and carry her to his cave like a proper Neanderthal, he knew Annie would only take off the second his back was turned.
He needed to convince her that she would be safer with him than in this damned motel room.
“There’s some madman out there kidnapping women,” he pointed out in what he hoped was a reasonable tone.
“Exactly.” She folded her arms over her chest, her expression set in stubborn lines. “Which is why I would be an idiot to take off with a man I met two days ago.”
He held her wary gaze. “It might only be a couple of days, but you already trust me.”
She hunched her shoulders. “I trusted my father.”
Rafe swallowed a curse.
How did he argue with that?
He’d first feared she been traumatized by her father. But she’d revealed last night that for all his faults, Don White had been devoted to his daughter.
Still, Annie had been taught as a vulnerable child that she couldn’t depend on her natural instincts.
“Wait,” he muttered, pulling out his phone and hitting the speed dial. Seconds later, a familiar voice was on the line. “Hey, Max.”
“What’s up, my man?”
He kept his gaze locked on Annie’s pale face as he spoke to his friend. “Does Teagan have the feed from my house set up yet?”
“Give me a sec.” The man’s lack of surprise at the question assured Rafe that Teagan had already given a full report to the others. There was the sound of Max typing on the keyboard, then a low grunt. “Yep. I got a full view of your grandfather’s house. Not much to see. Damn, my man, that kitchen is filled with junk food,” he muttered. “You need to cut back. That shit will kill you.”
Rafe gave a short laugh. He loved the forensics expert, but the man had a serious inability to let loose and enjoy life.
Even his diet was rigidly regulated to give maximum nutrition with zero pleasure.
“Not all of us can survive on grass and protein drinks,” he said dryly.
“Food is fuel.” Max spouted his well-rehearsed line before returning to the reason for Rafe’s call. “Looks like the cameras are working. What am I looking for?”
Rafe lowered the phone and put it on speaker. He wanted Annie to hear what Max had to say.
“I want you to assure my friend that if she comes to stay with me she’ll be constantly monitored,” he said.
There was a confused pause. “Why would she need to be monitored?”
“To be sure I’m not a crazed psychopath.”
“Ah.” Max gave a low chuckle. “Your potential roommate must be the lovely Annie White.”
Annie made a sound of surprise even as Rafe rolled his eyes.
“Teagan has a big mouth.”
“He’s worried.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Rafe shook his head in resignation. “Put your phone on video.”
“You got it.” It took a few seconds before Rafe’s screen flickered and the sleek, modern furniture that Max preferred for his office came into focus.
“Show the camera feeds,” Rafe ordered.
The video blurred as Max turned the phone toward the computer monitor on his desk.
“There.” Rafe moved to stand beside Annie, pointing at the screen as it focused in on the monitor. “That’s the kitchen and living room of my grandfather’s house.”
She studied the phone with a small frown. “Why do you have cameras running?”
“Because I have four friends who are overprotective pains in the ass who decided I need their protection.”
The phone turned to reveal a man with short, dark blond hair, a bluntly chiseled face, and shrewd gray eyes. “You know you love us,” he teased.
Rafe’s lips twitched. He did love them. They were the brothers he’d always wanted.
For now, however, his only interest was easing Annie’s very reasonable fears. “Once you’re in my house, all you have to do is scream and one or all of my partners will hunt me down and shoot me,” he told her.
Max nodded. “That’s a promise, ma’am.”
“See?” he murmured, lifting his hand to gently tug the end of her braid. “You’ll be perfectly safe with me.”
She sent him a wry glance. “So I’m supposed to feel better because I’m being watched by five strange men instead of just one?”
“She does have a point, Rafe,” Max said.
“You’re not helping,” he informed his friend.
Max chuckled before his expression was suddenly somber. “You want me to tell her that you saved my life more than once?” he asked, his voice laced with an unmistakable sincerity. “And that you’re one of the few truly good guys I’ve ever met?”
“Now you’re just embarrassing me,” he muttered. “Later.” He disconnected the phone, feeling a ridiculous blush stain his cheeks. The five of them might be a tight-knit group, but none of them were comfortable with the mushy stuff. Shoving the phone in his pocket, he placed his hands on Annie’s shoulders and gazed down at her. “Come with me.”
She bit her lip. “There’s no reason for me to leave the motel.”
He leaned down until they were nose to nose. “Either you come with me, or I get a room next door.”
She made a small sound of exasperation. “Why are you being so stubborn about this?”
Rafe knew there were a thousand excuses he could use, but he didn’t even consider lying.
She had to know that he would tell her the truth, even when it wasn’t convenient.
“Because the thought you might be in danger makes me a little nuts,” he said.
“A little?”
“Maybe a lot.”
Her expression briefly softened, as if his admission touched something deep inside her. Then, as if recognizing she’d revealed more than she’d intended, her chin jutted to a defensive angle.
“I’m not helpless.”
“Neither am I, but I have cameras in my home and four interfering busybodies threatening to set up camp in my backyard,” he reminded her, his thumbs brushing the curve of her throat. “It’s what friends do.”
Her gaze lowered to his lips. “You want to be my friend?”
He gave a short laugh, his cock instantly hardening as his brain fired up all sorts of images of what he wanted from this woman.
None of them included a platonic association.
>
Still, his need to protect currently trumped his sexual needs.
Eventually he’d have her in his bed. He refused to consider any other possibility.
“I’m not going to insult your intelligence and pretend I’m not attracted to you, but this is about keeping you safe,” he admitted, his voice rough with the desire he couldn’t disguise. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”
She wavered, her gaze briefly darting toward the door. He turned his head to see what had captured her attention.
No, wait, she wasn’t looking at the door.
The chair?
The window?
“This is crazy,” she abruptly muttered.
He turned back to study her pale face. “I have a trump card,” he murmured.
The hazel eyes narrowed. “What’s that?”
“I intend to find out who took those women.”
Her breath caught, her body stiffening beneath his hands. “How?”
“Come with me and I’ll tell you,” he promised softly, knowing he’d won the battle when she heaved a deep sigh of resignation.
“Christ, I must be out of my mind.”
Chapter Seven
Annie knew it was a risk to stay with Rafe.
Not because she feared he would hurt her.
At least not physically.
A man intent on harming a woman didn’t announce to the local sheriff, as well as his friends, that he intended to take her to his house.
But he threatened her in a way she barely understood.
Slowly she pulled away from Rafe’s light touch, acutely aware of the heat of his body that seemed to wrap around her.
What was it about this man?
Granted, he was gorgeous.
The sort of gorgeous that made her heart forget how to beat when he was next to her.
And sexy. Sexy enough that his mere touch was making her tingle in all the right places.
And he smelled divine.
A warm, spicy scent of cologne mixed with pure male skin that was intoxicating.
The fact that she wanted to tumble him back on the bed and rip off his clothes was no big shocker. There wasn’t a woman alive who wouldn’t be ready, willing, and eager to get Rafe Vargas naked.
But this was more.
This was a deeper, more intimate awareness that threatened her on an emotional level.
Still, she couldn’t ignore the fact that she was dangerously vulnerable in this motel room.
Not only from the sheriff, and any local citizens who might decide to run her out of town, but from the weirdo who’d stuck the note under her door.
If nothing else, staying with Rafe Vargas would keep away most of the loonies.
Or at least a girl could hope.
Grabbing her suitcase, she tossed in her clothes. She needed to find a Laundromat, sooner rather than later, she acknowledged with a grimace, heading into the bathroom to gather her toiletries.
It took less than ten minutes to finish her packing, then zipping the suitcase shut, she glanced up to discover Rafe standing by the door, his expression grim.
“What’s wrong?”
He pointed toward the chair where the strange note was lying in plain sight.
Dammit. Why hadn’t she thrown the stupid thing in the trash?
“Do you want to explain that?” he growled.
She shrugged. “There’s nothing to explain.”
His jaw tightened, as if he was battling some fierce emotion.
“When did you get it?”
“I’m not sure.” With effort she kept the fear out of her voice. She didn’t want anyone to know that she was allowing some pathetic loser to terrorize her. “I found it shoved under my door when I woke up this morning.”
“Shit.” He glared down at the paper, but he didn’t try to touch it. “Did you tell the sheriff?”
“Why would I?” she asked in genuine confusion. “It’s just some idiotic note from a crackpot.”
“What makes you so certain?”
“My name isn’t Annabelle.”
He sent her a glance of disbelief. “That’s it?”
Okay, maybe she was grasping at straws, but the thought that some crazed killer had been outside her door . . .
She gave a sharp shake of her head. No. The mere thought would ensure she would never sleep again.
“If it was the killer he would have tried to grab me, not written a creepy letter,” she muttered.
Shoving aside the hideous orange and green curtain, Rafe angled his head as he glanced out the window, checking the drooping edge of the roof before shifting his attention toward the office across the parking lot.
“I don’t suppose this place has any cameras?”
Annie rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t even have Wi-Fi.”
“Damn.” Turning back toward the room, Rafe scanned the cramped space. Then with two long strides he was at the dresser and yanking the unused liner from the ice bucket. “Max will kill me for using plastic, but this will have to do.”
Annie frowned as she watched him scoop the note and envelope off the chair and drop it into the bag, careful to touch only the edge.
“What are you doing?”
He folded the bag to seal in the note. “I’m going to send it to our office in Houston,” he said. “If there’s any clue to who shoved it under your door, Max will find it.”
Annie chewed her bottom lip, torn between the urge to dismiss the note as nothing more than the work of a whacko, and relief that Rafe might be able to come up with an actual name.
“Why aren’t you taking it to the sheriff?” she demanded.
His lean face tightened. “I don’t trust him.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged. “Your father was killed in his jail cell before he could speak with a lawyer, and the case files were burned only days later. If nothing else he’s clearly incompetent,” he said in flat tones. “Max, on the other hand, is a genius.”
She grimaced, grabbing her bag. “I’m ready.”
“Wait.” Rafe moved to turn on the TV and switched on a bedside light.
“What are you doing?”
“If we leave your Jeep in the lot, people will assume you’ll be back,” he murmured.
“What does it matter?”
He grabbed her bag and moved to pull open the door. “I’m going to set up a motion detector camera. We might get lucky and catch the bastard who left the note.”
“Oh.” She allowed him to lead her to the truck parked near the edge of the lot. Rafe clearly was a man who didn’t like to get blocked in. Or maybe it was about feeling trapped. Something to remember. “That’s—”
He placed her suitcase in the bed of his truck and opened her door as he studied her with a curious expression. “What?”
“Unexpectedly clever,” she muttered, grabbing the overhead handle to hoist herself up and into the seat.
“I have my moments,” he assured her, his lips twitching as he closed the door and returned to the back of his vehicle.
She twisted around to watch as he dug through the long, silver toolbox attached to the truck bed. At last locating what he was searching for, Rafe headed back to her motel room and disappeared inside.
A part of her mind was occupied with the sight of how very fine Rafe Vargas looked in his faded jeans and sweatshirt.
The wind had ruffled the dark, glossy strands of his hair and his jaw was already shadowed with whiskers, giving him an air of untamed danger.
Something that should have terrified her, not sent tingles of excitement through her.
The other part of her mind was wondering what sort of man carried spy cameras in his toolbox.
Within minutes he was back at the truck and taking his place behind the steering wheel.
“See, I told you I had my moments,” he teased.
Annie pressed her hands together, trying her best not to consider exactly what his best moments might entail. A task that would be considerably easier if she d
idn’t have a hot flash each time they turned a corner and she found her shoulder brushing against his hard, chiseled body.
Good Lord, get a grip, she sternly chastised herself, remaining silent as Rafe stopped by the local florist store that also doubled as a barbershop and FedEx office.
It took him only a few minutes to overnight the note to his friend, and then they were driving the short distance to his grandfather’s house.
She climbed out of the truck, waiting for Rafe to grab her suitcase and lead her up the broken sidewalk. Hey, she could carry her own bag. But there were some battles that weren’t worth fighting.
Glancing around the overgrown yard and hedges that needed a good trimming, Annie stepped onto the slanted porch and followed Rafe into the house.
“Sorry, the place isn’t exactly the Ritz. My grandfather was eccentric, to say the least,” he said as they entered a small living room. The furniture was shabby and the wooden floors worn, but the room had been ruthlessly cleaned and precisely arranged. Clearly Rafe’s touch. “Bring your stuff in here.” He crossed the floor to enter the bedroom that was just large enough to fit a narrow bed and walnut armoire. “I’ll wash the sheets and make the bed after breakfast,” he promised, placing her suitcase beneath the window. “But first . . . doughnuts.”
A small smile curved her lips as they traced their way through the living room and into the kitchen at the back of the house.
Like the rest of the house, it was shabby and obviously in need of updates, but it was clean and there were boxes neatly stacked against the wall and a few next to the door.
And in the middle of the room was a Formica table where a sack of doughnuts and a computer were waiting for them.
“You do laundry?” she teased as she took a seat and watched Rafe move toward the counter to pour two mugs of coffee.
“The military teaches you to be self-sufficient,” he assured her. “Cream or sugar?”
“Black.” She waited until he placed the mug of coffee in front of her and took a seat across the table before asking the obvious question. “Why did you leave?”
The ebony eyes darkened with a wound that hadn’t fully healed. “Long story.”