“Yes?”
“I’ll need you to come in and make a formal statement.” A statement that better include a thorough explanation of that confirmation he’d mentioned, as well as his surprise appearance out here.
He arched an eyebrow. Whether that silent, subtle gesture was about her official tone or something else, she didn’t care to analyze right now.
“I can do that. Anything else?”
Oh, there was a lot more, but this wasn’t the place to get into the other issues. “The city of Belclare thanks you.” She turned her back on him before she broke down entirely. The chief of police did not dissolve into a puddle of mush in front of terrorists and curious citizens.
“Hey, Chief!”
She looked over at Jerry Lewiston, the head of the Lewiston family. He was standing near the area Deke had been looking at. “Yes?”
“Can we keep the bomb?”
“I beg your pardon?” The shock of his words cleared away the emotional cobwebs. Thankfully.
“Way I figure, it’s a fair exchange for the damaged tree.”
“I’d have to disagree,” she said, striding over to see what the hell he was talking about. “It’s evidence.”
“But it was my boy who helped your friend in the red vest disarm it and save your life.”
She looked down, her knees wobbling. It had been a close call. Lewiston was right. If this had gone off... “You saw who planted it.”
“I did.” He lifted his chin toward Deke. “That fancy one. Probably thought we were all asleep. I guess he don’t know us Lewistons too well.”
The confirmation that she’d made the right choice should have been more satisfying, but all she could think about were how foolish she’d been to ever trust Deke Maynard and how many lies Riley had told her. “Just the one?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“It has to come with me.”
Lewiston was clearly disappointed. She motioned him to move closer, away from the bomb. “You realize this puts me in your debt.”
The man smiled, understanding. “All right then, guess that’s a fair trade.”
She relayed the details to the feds and assigned the appropriate instructions. When she finally settled behind the wheel of her car, she risked one more glance at Riley, who stood at the entrance watching her.
He would put Belclare behind him as soon as his statement was signed. Why wouldn’t he? He had obviously been sent here.
Fine. It was for the best. Amazing sex wasn’t enough reason for him to stay. Not when she couldn’t trust him. Obviously, she didn’t know him at all. If she were any other woman under normal circumstances, she would run straight to Riley and rest easy in the illusion of security she found in his embrace. Good grief, if she were any other woman, she wouldn’t have been stuck in this impossible dilemma to start with.
If she’d been any other woman, men like Deke Maynard and Riley O’Brien might easily have overlooked her. Power, duty and responsibility were as much a part of her as her blond hair and preference for candy-apple-red toenail polish.
Apparently Deke was the only person who sensed there was any lingering naïveté to exploit. She couldn’t wrap her head around how that revelation made her feel.
Well, she’d just have to count this a hard lesson learned. This incident marked the last time she trusted first and asked questions later—particularly when it came to men. No one else would ever be allowed close enough to hurt her.
She put the car in gear and followed the officers transporting Deke to the station.
It was over.
* * *
IN HIS TRUCK, Riley fumed every second of the short trip to the police station. “The city of Belclare thanks me, my ass.”
The only thanks he wanted was a paycheck for a good day’s work. He didn’t want any gratitude from Belclare or the chief of police.
Well, at least the latter was partly true. What he wanted was the woman behind the badge. He needed her. More, he needed her to understand what they’d shared was real, not another facet of the game that bastard Maynard had been playing with her.
Why couldn’t she tell the difference?
His hand flexed and released around the leather-wrapped steering wheel. He supposed if she couldn’t tell the difference to some degree he’d be listening to one of Belclare’s finest rattle off his Miranda rights about now. Her face danced across his vision. Not the lovely, poetry-quoting face of last night, but the accusing expression, full of doubt as she decided which man to believe and which to haul in.
He might be new in town, but she could hardly call him a stranger. Not after last night. Not after all that they’d shared before that. He had to find a way to make her listen. Soul meets soul on lovers’ lips. She’d been the one to quote Shelley as her body had been draped over his like a sensual blanket last night.