Hot on Her Heels

Izzy only smiled. “You can’t. We’re your family. Not Jed. He deserves what he’s going to get, but not us. You know we’re innocent. You know we don’t deserve what you’re doing to us. Every time you act against one of us, you’re becoming more and more like Jed, and that’s not who you are.”

He felt the truth of her statements but didn’t say anything.

“You’re pressuring him, Izzy,” Skye said. “You have to stop. Enough with the emotional blackmail. Let’s deal with facts. If you didn’t arrange the explosion on the oil rig, who did? Or was it an accident?”

Garth appreciated the change in topic. “The preliminary reports all suggest a man-made cause. Someone did it on purpose.”

“If not you, then who?” Skye asked.

“I’m working on that.”

“Why do you care?” Izzy asked.

“I’ll take responsibility for what I did, nothing else.”

“With all you’ve been doing,” Skye said, “you’re a likely suspect.”

He nodded. “I know, but it wasn’t me. Explosions are too dangerous. There’s no way to control all the outcomes. I always know the end game.”

“I don’t suppose you’d take a lie detector test,” Skye said.

He chuckled. “No.” Although he would be open to intense questioning by Deputy Dana, he thought humorously. She intrigued him with her determination and irreverence.

“When you find out who was responsible, will you tell us?” Skye asked.

“Be careful what you ask for. You may not like the answer.”

She frowned. “Do you already know?”

“I suspect. There’s a difference.”

Skye looked stricken, as if she had thought of something impossible to believe. “Will you tell us?” she asked again softly.

“Yes.”

“Just like that?”

“I’ll tell you,” he said firmly.

She stood. “Then I guess we’ll wait to hear.”

He and Izzy rose.

Izzy looked at him. “About the family thing. I’m not kidding. You’re one of us now. Quit being mean.”

Then, before he could stop her, she wrapped both her arms around him, leaning against him. The embrace was uncomfortable and unfamiliar. He was used to having women in his arms, but this was different.

She released him, then stared into his eyes. Her mouth curved into a slight smile.

“Next time you’re going to hug me back,” she whispered. “You need us, Garth. And we need you.” Then she raised herself on her toes and kissed his cheek. “It’s going to be okay.”

As if she wanted to reassure him. But this was his game and he was winning. Didn’t they get that?

Skye eyed him. “I’m not comfortable with the whole embracing thing just yet.”

“Not a problem.”

“I hope Izzy’s right. I hope you are worth saving. We’re about to find out.” She smiled. “You may not like the process.”

The women left.

He stared after them, wanting to call them back and say he wasn’t worth saving. That they were ridiculous to waste their effort this way. At the same time, he had the strangest feeling that they had just won this round and that the unexpected victory had put him behind.

IT WAS NEARLY NINE that night when Garth rode the elevator from his condo building’s parking garage. He was tired, not surprising after a nearly fifteen-hour day, but his weariness seemed to be deeper than usual. He’d brought home a briefcase full of work he had no intention of looking at and he was oddly reluctant to spend the evening by himself.

If he had to define his mood—something he rarely bothered doing—he would say he was lonely.

It wasn’t as if he usually spent evenings playing poker with the guys, but lately the emptiness seemed more profound. Maybe it was because he’d lost his best friend. Or maybe all he needed was a drink and some TV time in front of a football game.

When the elevator stopped on the main floor, he got out and crossed to pick up his mail. On his way to the bank of locked boxes, he saw someone sitting in one of the overstuffed sofas. A familiar someone, watching him.

Dana Birch stood. “You’re keeping late hours.”

She wasn’t in uniform. Instead she wore jeans, a leather jacket and boots. Nothing stylish or upscale, yet the no-nonsense clothes suited her.

Garth swung his attention to George, the evening doorman for the building. The older man shifted uncomfortably.

“You, ah, have a visitor, Mr. Duncan.”

“So I see.”

Dana moved toward him. “Don’t blame George. His nephew is a new recruit in the Titanville sheriff’s office. I’ve helped him out a couple of times. George owes me.”

“Does he?”

Garth got his mail and tucked it under his arm. He had his briefcase in one hand and a bag of Chinese takeout in the other. “Why are you here?”

“Because you are.”

Not that he minded—Garth wasn’t intimidated by a powerful woman. In fact, he found the challenge appealing. There was something about Dana’s mouth, though. The fullness of the bottom lip, the slight curve at the corners. It spoke of sensuality and promise. Or maybe that was wishful thinking on his part.

“Starting a fan club?” he asked.

“Not exactly. I’ve taken a leave of absence from work so I can follow you. I’ll be on your ass until I figure out who and what you are.”

“You already know who I am.”

“Not really. Izzy thinks you’re brother material. Skye and Lexi aren’t so sure.”