Dangerous Flirt(Laytons Book 2)(30)

She snorted into his shoulder. “Mrs. Cranston said she'd always known you couldn't trust a Mexican to do the right thing.”

“Mrs. Cranston is an ignorant old bag who'd better hope she doesn't get caught speeding in Dry Creek County.”

Chuckling darkly, Beth pushed away from him. “Thanks.” She stood and started pacing, her bare feet leaving indentions in the plush carpet. “I've gotten some nasty anonymous phone calls and texts. Someone vandalized the house.”

He jumped up from the bed and grabbed her elbow, forcing her to stop pacing. “What?”

She kept her face averted. “Yeah, the day my car conked out for the billionth time, but nothing too bad. Some broken windows and spray-painted walls.”

Anger burbled inside of him, making his gut clench. “Why didn't you tell me when I gave you a ride home?”

“The house is just over the border in Council County. I reported it to Sheriff Wilcox. He said it was probably just kids partying in an abandoned house.”

He just bet the lazy, corrupt son of a bitch did think that. “So what's he going to do about it?”

“Nothing. Oh, he says he’ll look into the threats, but nothing ever happens.” She wrapped around her chest, her hands rubbing her upper arms. “He suggested I sell.”

“There must be a stream of stupid flowing into Council County's water supply.”

“Yeah, now you understand why I live in Dry Creek.” She smiled wanly at her tepid joke.

“Not that I want you to sell, but why haven't you?”

“My grandfather built that house. He'd work a twelve-hour shift in the slaughterhouse and then turn around and spend his off hours building the house. It took him ten years to complete it. Sure, it's an ugly house, but it's my only tie to my family. It's all I have left of them.” A single tear slid over one high cheekbone, but fire burned in her gaze. “I won't sell. Ever.”

Now family, that he could understand.

“Okay. So tell me about last night.” He wanted to pull her into his arms, but she looked as skittish as a calf on branding day.

“I went to dinner with other conference speakers and attendees. We had reservations for a table at one of the hotel clubs, so we went there. I had a glass of pop at dinner, a champagne at the club, and then everything went fuzzy.”

“Anyone from home with you?”

“At the dinner, most everyone was from the firm. At the club there were several people from home. A few were already at the club when we got there.” She clutched a fist to her stomach. “Could the drug still be in my system?”

He was going to enjoy the feel of his fist crushing the jaw of whoever did this. “It's unlikely. Your symptoms sound like it was GHB or Rohypnol, and both tend not to leave trace evidence behind.”

She sank down to the chaise lounge, her normal latte complexion ashen. “Great. So there's no way to prove it.”

Hank shook his head. “Not likely.” The fact that he was impotent to do more than offer advice rankled him.

Beth threw up her hands, stormed over to her shoes and swiped them off the floor before flopping down onto a stiff desk chair. Stuffing her feet inside each high heel, she tucked her mussed hair behind her ears. She leaned forward and fastened the delicate straps around her tiny ankles. The move accentuated her long neck.

Assaulted by unbidden visions of sucking on her earlobe and trailing hot kisses down the tender column of her throat, Hank sucked in a deep breath. This was not the time for that. “We need to report this to the local police.”

Anger snapped in her gaze when she leveled those brown eyes on him. “Hell no.”

“Don't be stupid.”

“You know what's stupid? Turning to law enforcement with a story that I may have been drugged, but can't prove it and anyway nothing bad happened.” She rose to her full height. Her aggressive stance emphasized by the hands on her hips. “I think the Las Vegas Police Department has more pressing things to take care of and so do I. The conference panel I'm on begins in three hours, and I still need to finalize my Power Point.” She held out her hand to him, palm up toward the ceiling. “So give me my purse.”

She hadn't told him about how many threats there had been or the vandalism.

She'd danced a jig when she'd found out they weren't married.

She was acting like a stubborn fool about being drugged.

He should warn her not to let the door hit her on the ass on her way out.

But he couldn't.

He may have been so blinded by lust last night that he forgot about his honor, but not now. Too many signs warned of danger ahead. He reached between the mattress and box spring, pulled out her small black purse and held it out.