James had dealt with a lot of suspects, furious that they had just been arrested. Some were riddled with disbelief they had been caught. Others were so whacked-out on drugs they thought they were Batman, Iron Man, and the Hulk all rolled into one. Yet the singular anger in her golden eyes seemed to scorch him right down to his short hairs. It was a real and very personal thing. Nothing like the irrational anger of a strung-out, maddened, or intoxicated suspect. Her gaze was clear and focused and aimed at him.
It hit him like a punch in the gut. What had happened to make such a pretty woman capable of so much hostility?
For an instant he thought she might attack if he moved even a toe toward the door. It was a raw moment. He wasn’t afraid. He just didn’t know how to defuse the situation.
The impact of her defiance changed shape in that moment. Suddenly his discomfort wasn’t about besting the woman before him. It was a purely sexual response.
He noticed how her thick fall of shiny bangs framed the most expressive pair of eyes he’d ever looked into. He saw her full lower lip tremble and wondered if she knew what that kind of thing did to a man’s libido. Her old-fashioned, fresh-scrubbed prettiness might not be popular in a world that demanded long, lean, and edgy. Yet he was intrigued. He wondered what she was like when she didn’t feel under siege.
He saw her eyes flare slightly in awareness of the attraction that must be showing through his stare. Her pupils went supernova, the black eating up the gold until he felt as if he were staring into her soul. It was a hungry, lonely soul, one that overwhelmed his senses.
James stomped on his emotions as he looked away first.
He felt sorry for her, he did. But whatever was wrong was Deputy Ward’s problem. He’d done what he came to do, recover his partner. He wasn’t going to let a pair of golden-brown eyes make him feel guilty and horny and— Shit!
He reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and withdrew all thirty-four dollars. He held it out to her. “For your trouble.”
Her gaze shifted from his hand to his face. He saw her mouth go tight, pinching off its lush natural fullness until all that was left was a white rim of mute rage.
He put the money away, so unnerved that his hand shook a little.
“Bogart. Hier!” The sound of James’s command voice snapped his partner to attention and he trotted over to his handler’s side.
“No, Prince! Heel!” Shay stood with her hand held out, a red rubber ball balanced in her palm. “Let’s play, boy. Come on.” She bounced the ball with a whack against the wooden floor.
Bogart paused, looked back at her and then at James.
Months before, James had worked out a nonverbal secret signal with Bogart after a fleeing suspect—who he later learned had once worked in the K-9 corps—had almost succeeded in calling Bogart off the attack. When he made that hand signal, only he could countermand.
He signed. “Hier.”
The dog sprang to his side.
He felt a surge of triumph to have won his dog’s loyalty back, but when he turned to Shay he saw the sick look of humiliation on her face and felt like a bully. Damn! She was breaking his balls one minute and his heart the next.
He picked up his rifle and his hat and headed for the door. As he reached the threshold, music began issuing inexplicably from his pocket. He reached in and pulled out an unfamiliar cell phone playing Katy Perry’s “Wide Awake” as its ringtone. It was the disposable he’d taken from Shay.
“That’s mine.”
The heat of embarrassment stung his neck as he handed it over.
Shay snatched it and answered. Her face went white and then she whispered into the phone, “Go to hell!”
She punched “end” and turned around to face her audience. She didn’t look at the deputy. She shot James a look hot enough to scorch ground. “Telemarketer.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Shay realized too late that she should have been paying more attention.
She had been holed up in the cabin most of the day, mourning the loss of Prince. Yet the afternoon’s warmth had drawn her out into the sunshine. Needing some exercise, she had walked along the perimeter of the lake to a convenience store/bait stand two miles away where she’d bought fresh-shucked oysters packed in ice to make for dinner. She was nearly to the cabin porch before she saw the truck turning into her drive.
Eric!
The cold fear of the night before swept over her again, leaving her weak and tingly. She reached for her phone only to discover it wasn’t in her pocket. Her heart did a sickly double thump. She’d left it to charge in the cabin.
She nearly ran inside and slammed the door. Yet it was too late to do that without showing him exactly how scared she was of him. Besides, there was no Prince there to protect her. She’d have to depend on the sheriff’s department again … if they would even respond this time.
She grabbed her left elbow with her right hand, hugging her icy package to her body as she stood in the yard, and waited. She was all alone. She’d better get used to that.