The doctor didn’t say anything, just nodded.
“Well, see, I’m adaptable.” He used both hands to point to his chest. “If a situation does an unexpected one-eighty on me, and things go to shit, I don’t look back to see what went wrong and cry over it. No. I stay cool and keep my eyes forward.” He made an arrow of his hand and aimed it ahead of him. “And—I swear, I’ve got the devil’s own luck—the turnaround usually winds up working to my benefit.”
With a maneuver he’d mastered over years of practice, he removed the switchblade from his sleeve and flicked it open. The doctor jumped like a rabbit. Flashing him a cunning smile, Timmy calmly began flipping the knife end over end, catching it by the handle each time.
“This brouhaha is over the lady doctor making off with the magic potion, or youth serum, or holy water, whatever it is, right?” He laughed at Lambert’s startled expression. “I can see that you, like everybody else, thought I didn’t know that, but how stupid would I have to be not to figure it out?
“I saw the paperwork Mallett had such a hard-on for. That metal box came from some pharmaceutical lab in Ohio. All hush-hush. Two doctors competing for possession of it. And a senator frantic to get his hands on it.” He stopped the flipping and pointed the knife at Lambert. “What is it?”
Lambert’s gaze was fixed on the switchblade. He probably couldn’t work up a spit, but he eked out, “I’m not at liberty to say.”
Timmy held his pose for a long time, then shrugged abruptly. The doctor flinched again. “That’s okay,” Timmy said. “I probably wouldn’t understand your medical mumbo jumbo, and anyhow I don’t give a fuck what it is.
“I just know that the Hunts want it, and want it bad. What do I want, you ask? I want to win their favor, get in good with them, suck that sugar tit that Goliad’s had to himself all these years. The way to do that? Solve the problem.”
The doctor’s eyes shifted from the knife up to Timmy’s eyes. “How do you propose to do that?”
“It’s so simple, it’s a mystery to me why nobody’s thought of it.” He laughed and took another swig of the whiskey.
Chapter 28
12:50 a.m.
Brynn missed his weight on her, the tickle of hair against places where her body was smooth, the scent of his skin, the overall feel of him on her and inside her. The tumult was over, but she wasn’t done savoring the aftermath.
With regret, she opened her eyes.
Rye lay facing her, perfectly still, staring at her as though he’d been waiting for her to come out of the post-orgasmic daze in which he’d left her. He touched her neck with the tip of his index finger. “Does that hurt?”
“No.”
“I didn’t mean to bite that hard.”
“You didn’t. My skin bruises if you look at it hard.”
“Any bruises from last night when I held you to the ground?”
“One.” She rolled toward him so he could see her back.
He grimaced and gently stroked the spot just above her hip. “I’m sorry. I’ve been rough on you.” As though talking to himself, he added, “I’m rough on everybody.”
“The person you were talking to on the phone earlier?”
His eyes sharpened on her. He stopped caressing, but his sudden withdrawal was more than tactile.
“I came out of the bathroom just as you tossed your phone onto the dresser. You seemed upset.”
He turned onto his back. “How much did you overhear?”
“‘Love you, too.’”
He didn’t say anything.
Brynn plucked at the hem of her pillowcase. “Wife?”
“No.”
She let go a shaky breath. “A little late for me to be asking, but I’m relieved to know I didn’t commit adultery.”
“You’re safe on that score. In fact, you’re safe on every score.”
He flung back the sheet and got up. Moving to the window, he checked the parking lot. “Our friend is still there.”
The phone he’d gotten from her dad had been charging on the nightstand. He unplugged it and checked the readout. “Good to go. You’d better start calling anybody you trust with your new number.” As he made his way toward the bathroom, he scooped his jeans off the floor.
Startled by his abruptness, Brynn sat up and held the sheet against her chest. “Are you coming back?”
“No. I’ll keep a lookout. You want the bathroom first?”
She gave a small shake of her head and pulled the covers up to a more modest level. “You go ahead.”
“I won’t take long.”
He didn’t. She’d heard the commode flush. The shower ran for about ninety seconds. Several minutes later, he came out. He was wearing his jeans; his hair was still wet. He didn’t look her in the eye. In fact, he didn’t look at her at all.
He picked up his shirt, went to pull it on, and noticed that the sleeves were inside out. He flapped the shirt to shake loose the bunched fabric. “Why don’t you sleep for a while. If he leaves, I’ll wake you up.”
“You should sleep, too.”
“Heard that already. From Dash.”
“You talked to him?”
“Texted him while I was in the bathroom. Sent him my new phone number.”
“Has he heard anything more from Wilson?”
“No, and I asked.”
“Maybe they’re responsible for the car outside.”
“If they had tracked us here, we would know it. They wouldn’t be covert.”
She thought so, too, which made her even more leery of the policeman outside. Wilson and Rawlins were a threat, but they were restricted to abiding by the law. The worst they could do was detain her and prevent her from getting to Violet in time.
A corrupt lawman posed much more danger, as did Goliad and Timmy, who were lawless and would go to extremes on behalf of Richard Hunt. She only had to look at Rye’s left hand to be reminded that they could strike with violence. “You never put anything on those cuts.”
“They’re fine.” One of the sleeves was still bedeviling him.
“Stop fighting with that. If you won’t lie down, at least sit down.”
“Why are you nagging me?”
“Why are you acting like an ass?”
He stopped wrestling with the shirt and threw it down. “Because it would be a shame to ruin a really great fuck with stupid and pointless conversation.”
She held his stare for a moment, then rolled to her other side and tucked the covers beneath her chin. “If our cop hasn’t left within an hour, I’ll take my chances and sneak out. You’ll enjoy that. You’ll be free of me.”
He muttered a curse. Then, “It was my mom.”
She turned toward him. “What?”
“That’s who you overhead me talking to.”
Brynn came up on her elbows.
He maintained an arrogant stance, as though spoiling for a fight. “Anything else you want to ask?”
“Where does she live?”
“Outside Austin. On a lakefront lot. Dad has a bass boat and goes fishing almost every day. He’s a cliché. Bores you blind with stories about the big ones that got away.”
“How was their Thanksgiving?”
“Good. Except for my newest nephew. He’s teething.”
“How old is he?”
“I don’t know, Brynn. I’ve never seen him.”
“Why not?”
He didn’t say anything, just gnawed the inside of his cheek. He went to the window and peeped out again, but she thought that was an excuse to turn away from her.
“Why don’t you go home?” she asked.
“I never know what my schedule is going to be.”
“Does your mother fall for that excuse?”
He came back around, his eyes angry, so she knew she’d struck a chord. However, rather than demur, she pressed. “What causes you to twitch in your sleep, Rye?”
“Twitch?”
“Yesterday morning in the cabin, while we napped, several times you woke me up, jerking, talking unintelligibly.”
“Sorry. You should have nudged me.”
“What disturbs your sleep? And why can’t you land? That is, land and stay for any length of time.”
“I’d rather be in the air.”
“So you’ve said. You love flying. It’s an obsession. It’s ingrained.” She paused and looked at him meaningfully. “It’s also your escape. From what?”
He checked his wristwatch, then placed his hands on his hips. “Are we done yet?”
“Jake told me you were a legend.”