So he’d waited.
The wait gave him a chance to spread a little more money on the street and weave together a web of informants who watched Rhino when he wasn’t watching. He’d hoped to find a wife and kiddies, someone he could easily terrorize. But Rhino was being a monk. And then came a break: an informant spotted him headed up Interstate 95 in his private vehicle.
It always took luck. Anyone who lived on the edge knew that luck counted as much as preparation and heart when it came to survival, and the hunt.
Rhino had gone north to visit his parents. Weakness number one.
The sighting of Rhino with a woman by a pansy-ass wannabe biker out of Baltimore had been the next piece of luck.
She, too, was a cop. Weakness number two.
X poured a bit of whiskey on the ground then ground it into the dust with his heel, homage to a pagan god all his own. Then he twisted the cap back on his bottle and remounted.
He now had all he needed to take the son of a bitch down. He was just going to do it bit by bit. Like checking out the reason Rhino was in Virginia had given him a chance to follow his woman’s movements.
So, that was Rhino’s bitch. She didn’t look like much of a good time. But maybe after he’d had Rhino’s piece of ass, he’d toss her to the informant as payment. If there was anything much left of her.
Patience was a virtue. Payback was a bitch.
*
Scott didn’t return until after she was in bed for the night. She lay listening to him move about, speaking occasionally to Izzy. He came near her closed door once and stood there so long she almost called out just to end the suspense. Finally, he moved away without even tapping to see if she was awake.
Was he avoiding her?
Or, was she avoiding him?
She sat up, disturbing Hugo, who was curled in a pile of fur at her feet. She reached out and stroked him until he resettled.
Hugo seldom slept with her but tonight she needed comfort. She had wanted it to come from Scott. The longing surprised her in its intensity. Yet she was afraid he would misinterpret her need as sexual. She couldn’t handle that option tonight.
She certainly wasn’t going to go whining to him about the incident with the Pagan biker this afternoon.
A shiver rocked her hard. She sat up
She had yet to tell anyone, even Richards. The fact she’d been harassed by a douche bag on a motorcycle would only reinforce to the men on the task force team her vulnerability as a woman. She’d fought too long and hard to gain respect as a female police officer to go running to the DEA, or even Yardley, with a Big Bad Wolf story. Red Riding Hood had saved herself. That shit was standard operating procedure these days.
The ease with which she’d not only changed her mind about Scott, but felt this sudden intense urge to rely on his big solid strength for emotional support was dangerous, and foolish.
She squirmed around on the bed until she could lay her head against Hugo’s bulky back, and pushed her hand into his fur for reassurance.
As she drifted off to sleep, she pretended it was Scott’s warmth surrounding her.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Scott woke up at Harmonie Kennels to find Cole gone. He hadn’t wanted to awaken her when he came in after midnight. But he had expected—correct that—hoped they could talk this morning in private. Hugo wasn’t here, either. They must be training already.
Scott let his anticipation of seeing her ebb into disappointment as he crossed to her room. He’d been a jerk to her from the get-go on their trip to New Jersey, and all she’d wanted to do was help. He wanted to apologize and explain. If he could find the words for the guilt, sense of helplessness and fear that had been motivating him.
He paused in her open doorway, taking in the twisted sheets on her bed and the shed of telltale dark dog hair at the foot. On a nearby chair lay a biker helmet and gloves and a jacket.
What the hell?
Newly awakened, Izzy padded in behind him and went to sniff the bed and then the biker gear before circling back to be petted.
Scott bent and stroked her. “Looks like we’ve missed a few things.” She licked his face in response.