All Through the Night (Liar's Web) (7 page)

Darcel was sitting up in bed, tears streaming down her face, her expression wide-eyed and wild. Quickly, he looked around the room, relaxing slightly as he realized they were alone. As a precaution he wrenched open the closet door and looked around inside, coming up with nothing more than a few of Darcel's outfits.

“
Did someone come in here?” he asked, his body pumping with adrenaline.

Darcel shook her head. “N-No, no one's here.”

“
You let out a scream to wake the dead. What happened?”

She raked her hand through her hair. “It's nothing. A bad dream.” Her voice sounded rattled, and he could see she was shaking uncontrollably.

Trueblood lowered his gun and let out the breath he'd been holding. “I thought someone broke in. You were screaming bloody murder in here.”

“
Sorry,” she apologized sheepishly. “It felt so real.”

“
Did you remember something about the shooter?”

Darcel furrowed her brow. “No, my dream was about a fire. There were flames all around me, and I was trying to get out of this house I was trapped in. It was terrifying.”

“
Strange,” he murmured, “I would've thought your dream was about the shooting. Your screams sounded horrific.”

Darcel shrugged. “It's not really odd for me. I've had this dream on and off ever since I was a child. I don't usually scream loud enough to wake the dead, but I do have this recurring nightmare about a fire.”

“
How often do you have this dream?” His curiosity was piqued by the unusual nature of her dream.

“
Once, sometimes twice a week,” she said matter-of-factly.

He furrowed his brows together, stumped by her blasé attitude. Did she think it was normal to dream over and over again about dark, fiery blazes? “Why do you think you're dreaming about a fire? Were you ever in a fire?”

His gaze was drawn to her ruby full lips as she bit down on the lower one. “Not that I know of,” she admitted in a soft voice. “Although I don't remember anything about my life before I was adopted.”

“
Nothing?” He struggled to process what she'd just revealed to him. “Not a single thing?”

She shook her head, her face somber. “Nothing before the age of five.”

For the first time since he'd entered the room, Trueblood's attention drifted toward Darcel's bedtime attire. She was wearing an extra small white baby doll T-shirt that left little to the imagination. Through the thin material, he could see her nipples jutting against the fabric and her dusky, over-sized aureoles. Her boobs were ginormous. Playboy centerfold big. And they looked all natural.

Lust sliced through him, bringing with it an uncomfortable thickening in his shaft that signaled his arousal. He didn't want her to think he was gawking at her, but he couldn't stop feasting his eyes on her in her bedroom attire. Feeling like a pervert, he managed to drag his gaze away from her chest, focusing instead on the cracked window next to the bed.

“
What part of ‘don't open the window’ didn't you understand?” he barked.

Darcel turned toward the window, a guilty expression creeping onto her face. “Woops. I meant to close it before I went to bed. It was so hot in here.”

Trueblood clenched his jaw. “Do you think this is one big joke?”

 
She looked at him with widened eyes. “Of course not. How can you even ask me that?”

“
There is someone out there who wants to kill you. That same someone has already killed at least one person that we know of. Leaving your window open is stupid.”

Darcel glared at him as if she wanted to do him bodily harm. “Do you have to be such a stupid…raging…ass? Did you ever stop and think that this whole thing is new to me? I'm not used to being stalked by a killer. It's not every day I witness a brutal murder. Do you think I enjoy living under the roof of a man who can't stand the very sight of me?”

By this time Darcel's breasts were heaving up and down and her eyes were filled with tears. Once again all Trueblood could do was focus in on her amazing boobs. He felt like a jerk for making her tear up. He felt like the Big Bad Wolf being mean to Little Red Riding Hood. Although Darcel came across as a tough, no-nonsense businesswoman, on the inside she was as soft as a stick of butter. And she'd been through pure hell in the last twenty-four hours. Even an idiot like him could see that!

Deliberately, he softened his voice. “Use your head. That's all I'm saying. There's someone out there who won't hesitate to come right through that window and do the same thing to you that he did to Ronnie. It's my job to make sure that doesn't happen.”

Trueblood saw the fear in her eyes, and he watched as she nervously swallowed. “Point taken,” she said shakily. “It won't happen again.”

As soon as he left the guestroom Trueblood headed to the attic, where he rooted around for a few minutes until he found the item he'd been looking for. Minutes later he knocked on the guestroom door then slowly opened it after hearing a soft voice telling him to come in. This time Darcel's body was discreetly covered by his baby-blue cotton sheets. She wasn't showing any skin, but she still looked sexy as hell.

So tempting, in fact, he knew he'd have trouble getting back to sleep without images of her and her naughty T-shirt dancing in his head. If anyone had told him a week before he'd be fantasizing about Darcel, he'd have called them all kinds of crazy. As it was, he was beginning to question his own sanity. If Case ever got wind of it, he'd never be able to live it down.

He held out the giant fan he'd dug up from his attic. “You should've just told me you were hot,” he said gruffly.

“
I should have,” she acknowledged. “It's hard to ask you for things. You're already doing so much for me—taking me into your home, providing me with round-the-clock protection. I'm not used to asking for things.”

“
It's my job,” he said matter-of-factly, unwilling to take credit for something that fell under the heading of official business.

“
I shouldn't have called you stupid. Or an ass. I was angry and frustrated.” Her big doe eyes were full of sincerity, making him regret his harshness toward her a few moments before.

“
Get some sleep,” he instructed tersely as he made a rapid exit from the room. He headed downstairs and straight to the kitchen for a tall glass of ice water. He downed the contents greedily in the hopes it would rid his body of this flushed, heated feeling. His body temperature had risen considerably ever since he'd caught a glimpse of his star witness in her sexy PJs.

And she thought she was frustrated? He knew she was hinting at her anger toward him about her brother's arrest and her frustration with being a killer's target, but all he could think about at the moment was his own dire situation. He was aroused, hot, and on edge. For him it was a combustible combination. And the one woman he wanted to make love to all through the night was the one woman he couldn't have. Couldn't. Shouldn't. Wouldn't.

For starters, they didn't like each other. Despite how they'd made nice today, they both knew that under the surface they had major issues with one another. Not that he couldn't put it aside for a night of mind-blowing sex, but she was under his protection. That meant she was off limits. It would be all kinds of wrong to violate that trust.

Once she got her memory back, she would be his star witness, and together they would put a murderer away for a very long time. He took his oath as a lawman very seriously, and he couldn't imagine violating his own moral code for a night of pleasure with Darcel. He could get sex any day of the week if he wanted, even in a town as small as Liberty Creek.

As he walked back to his bedroom, he made a mental note to meet some of the guys for beers tomorrow night at Tumbleweeds. Bodine and Ella had offered to spell him from time to time and keep watch over Darcel. He would definitely take them up on it, if only to keep his sanity intact. He felt like an uncontrolled wildfire in the brush, blazing way too fast and hot to control. The desire he felt for her didn't bother him as much as the fact he was actually starting to like her. She wasn't the cold, evil bitch he'd imagined her to be.

Like Bodine had told him, she was goodhearted. So good that she'd almost gotten herself killed helping her idiot of a brother. He wondered what it would be like to be loved by a woman who had such loyalty, such strength? He imagined what it would feel like to come home to a woman like her every night. Oh, God! What the hell was wrong with him? With a groan, he sank down under the covers and prayed desperately for the relief only sleep could deliver.

Chapter Five

She woke in the morning with a deep rumbling in her belly, a noisy reminder she'd sacrificed dinner last night rather than eat in Trueblood's company. And now her tummy was paying the price for it. Last night had been a rough one. She'd tossed and turned well into the wee hours of the morning, her head filled with faceless enemies wielding guns and out of control blazes threatening to consume her. Her mirror told her no lies—there were dark shadows under her eyes and a look of fatigue imprinted on her face. She looked broke down and busted.

By the time Trueblood knocked on her door announcing breakfast she'd managed to make herself look somewhat presentable. A little foundation and loose powder had done wonders for her skin, and she'd put her hair back in a loose, no-frills ponytail. After adding a little mascara and some lip gloss, she was starting to feel less like a hot mess.

She pulled out her cell phone and checked in with the office, rearranging a few appointments and delegating house showings to her staff. Although her assistant Mary Lou peppered her with questions about her whereabouts, she managed to pacify her by telling her she had the stomach flu. Mary Lou had been speechless.

It was her own fault, she realized grimly. In the four years since she'd owned her company, she had never taken a single sick day. Through flu season, painful period cramps, and raging hang-overs, she'd always managed to make it to work.
All work and no play
.
 
Her mother's words rang in her ears, reminding her that she needed a healthy balance in her life. Although she loved the business of real estate, there was so much more she wanted in her life. A husband to love and adore. Children to sing to sleep at night. Maybe even a cuddly dog or two. A soft place to fall.

When she made her way downstairs, Jake was standing at the stove wearing a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt. Although his clothes weren't tight, her pulse quickened at the sight of his rugged, toned physique. He had a nicely shaped butt and a strong, powerful back. His legs were long and lean. He was a beautiful man. He could be as mean as a snake, but he was gorgeous. There was just no getting around that simple truth. He turned toward her at the sound of her footsteps, his face shuttered as he said, “Morning. The food is over there.”

Eggs. Pancakes. Sausage. Bacon. Fresh Fruit. Oatmeal. Fruit Loops. Orange juice.

“
I didn't know what you like to eat for breakfast so I made a little bit of everything,” he explained. “Grab a plate over there.” He pointed a spatula toward the kitchen counter.

After filling her plate with eggs, pancakes, bacon, and fruit she sat down at the maple butcher block table. After cooking his last piece of sausage to perfection, he turned off the griddle, grabbed a plate, and filled it to capacity. A few seconds later he joined her at the table, digging in to his breakfast with gusto. They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes until Jake said, “Lenny went home with your parents this morning. He ended up giving us a few leads to follow up on.”

Relief swelled through her at the news of her brother's release. “That's good news.”

“
I know you think I was being a hard-ass with him, but he had to be ruled out as a suspect. For all we knew he could've been the shooter.”

Her mouth hung open in surprise as she struggled for words. “Lenny? The shooter? Seriously?” She erupted into a fit of laughter so strong it made her stomach ache. She held her belly as spasms of laughter took over.

“
Y-You think my brother…Lenny—” Another fit of laughter interrupted her, and she had to pause before continuing to speak. “You think he's the shooter?”

With his brows furrowed together, Trueblood said, “I thought it was a possibility. You're too traumatized to remember the shooter's face. Who's to say the shooter wasn't big brother? Maybe that's why you can't remember the event. Perhaps it was too traumatic to see him wipe out his bookie.”

“
Sheriff, I would be a more likely suspect than Lenny. He's afraid of his own shadow, for goodness’ sakes. Why do you think he sent me to the wharf instead of going himself? He's a big scaredy cat. Always has been, always will be. On some level, you must know that, otherwise he'd still be sitting in a jail cell.”

Trueblood nodded his head grudgingly. “Remember anything?”

“
Nope. Not a thing,” she admitted with a frown. “It's like there's this black canvas covering my memory of the shooting. The last thing I remember is seeing Ronnie's face.”

“
I'd like you to meet with the sketch artist today and take a look at some photos we have down at the station. Perhaps one of the faces will jump out at you,” he suggested. “If you feel more comfortable, I can arrange to have her meet us over here.