Hot on Her Heels

“Hours? Oh, please. You’d be lucky to last six minutes. Quit playing, Garth. I have a full day ahead of me. Despite what you think, the world doesn’t revolve around you.”

“Yes, Deputy Birch.”

He dropped the towel at his waist.

She kept her eyes on his face. Not only didn’t he interest her in the least, but she was here in a professional capacity. She was proud of her job and what she did for the community. The good people of her town didn’t pay her to ogle the likes of Garth Duncan.

“No?” he asked, completely naked and holding out his arms at his side. “I’m yours for the taking.”

She faked a yawn.

He laughed. A rich, full laugh that spoke of amusement and perhaps grudging respect. For reasons she couldn’t explain, she found herself wanting to smile back at him. As if they were sharing a connection. As if they had something in common. As if they almost liked each other and might even be almost friends.

Dana turned and walked out of the closet. “Get dressed,” she called as she went.

“What if I have a gun in here?” he yelled after her.

“Then I get to shoot you.”

She crossed to the window in the bedroom and stared out at the view. But she only saw her friends’ faces. The three sisters Garth was trying to ruin. He hadn’t been content to attempt to destroy Lexi’s business or ruin Skye’s foundation. He’d actually tried to kill Izzy. What the hell was she thinking, smiling at him?

Garth was the enemy. He was evil. She was going to put him in prison for a very long time.

Five minutes later he walked into the bedroom. He wore a suit she was sure cost more than she made in a couple of months.

“Let’s go,” she said. “We’ll take my car.”

“I’m calling my lawyer on the way. She’ll meet us at the police station.”

“You can call Congress and God for all I care.” She pointed to the hallway. “Move.”

Instead of heading toward the living room, he moved toward her. For a split second Dana wondered if he had really had a gun in the closet. She reached for her sidearm.

“I didn’t try to kill her,” Garth said. “I had nothing to do with what happened to Izzy.”

“I’m not the one you have to convince,” Dana told him.

“You’re a cop. Look at me, Dana. Tell me if you think I’m lying.” He stared into her eyes. “I didn’t try to kill Izzy. I didn’t cause the explosion. I never went after her at all.”

He was standing too close, she thought suddenly. She wasn’t worried about him coming after her, but she still felt uneasy. What was going on?

Hating to give up the power, she took a step back.

He was lying. He had to be lying. But the voice in her head that warned her when someone was trying to pull a fast one was oddly silent.

“I suppose you didn’t do anything at all,” she said, grabbing his arm and starting toward the hallway. “That you’re completely innocent.”

He only smiled.

He could have pulled away easily, but didn’t, which left her in the uncomfortable position of hanging on to him. She could feel the heat of his skin, the muscles, the smooth fabric of his fancy suit.

“Don’t mess with me,” she growled.

“I didn’t say a word.”

So why did she feel so uncomfortable?

Weakness wasn’t allowed, she reminded herself. Not with him, not with anyone.

“PLEASE TELL ME THEY threatened you before I got there,” Mary Jo Sheffield said as she and Garth walked toward her car. “I’m itching to file a lawsuit.”

His attorney—a fortysomething blonde who barely came to his shoulder—looked determined. She could scent blood with the efficiency of a shark, one of the reasons he’d hired her.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” Garth told her as he waited for her to unlock her Mercedes. “They were polite and didn’t notify the press.”

Mary Jo wrinkled her nose. “Tell me someone hit you or threatened to hit you. Tell me they manhandled your cat when they brought you in. I need something to work with here.”

“I don’t have a cat,” Garth said.

“So few men do. Something I’ve never understood. Cats treat their owners with disdain and God knows your gender is constantly falling for women who treat them badly.” Mary Jo grinned. “Sorry. Ignore the rant. So you’re saying I can’t sue the Dallas Police Department?”

“I’m saying I can’t help you make your case.”

“Damn.”

She unlocked her car. Garth slid into the passenger seat.

He’d spent nearly six hours being questioned. Mary Jo had been present for all but the first thirty minutes. He’d been provided with coffee, sandwiches and plenty of breaks. It had been easy…too easy.

Deputy Dana Birch would be horrified if she found out, he thought, enjoying the thought of her screaming at some unsuspecting sergeant for not stringing Garth up by his thumbs and beating him with a pipe. If she had her way, he would be tortured into confessing all and then burned at the stake. Of course if she knew him, she would know torture wouldn’t get him to talk. Fortunately for him, Dana wasn’t in charge of the Texas criminal justice system.

“What about the deputy?” Mary Jo asked. “Deputy Birch. Can I go after her? What was she doing, bringing you in, anyway? She’s not a member of the Dallas PD. She’s from Titanville. There’s something going on there. Maybe I can get her suspended.”

“Leave Dana out of it,” he said as they left the parking garage.

Mary Jo glanced at him, eyebrows raised. “Dana? You know her?”

“We’ve met.”

“Tell me you’re not sleeping with her, Garth. Tell me this isn’t personal.”

He chuckled. It was personal, but not in the way his attorney meant. “We’re not involved or even friends. She’s…”

Dana was his half sisters’ friend. A deputy in the town where his mother lived. She was annoying, stubborn and determined to take him.

“She’s a friend of the family,” he said finally.

“I didn’t know you had family.”