She parked, grabbed Traynor’s DVD, and climbed from the car. The gravel drive crunched beneath the soles of her tennies. It was late, past eleven, yet the stereo blasted from the house next door. College students. How could they study with that din? She unlocked, then pushed the door open. There was movement in the shadows at the top of the stairs.
Cameron? She couldn’t see him, except in the strange light shows that played out in her room, his luminescence enhanced by the dark. Since he’d given up smoking two weeks ago, she couldn’t even track him by the glow of his ghostly cigarette, nor by the ever-present scent of smoke.
She went up the stairs toward him. Her room was dark, the moon was new and almost invisible. A sound, like someone breathing. Her skin prickled.
“Cameron?” she whispered. No answer. She turned, fumbled along the wall for the light switch, something she normally accomplished without thinking.
Before she could find it, the hardwood floor creaked behind her. She smelled fresh soap as a hand clamped down on her shoulder.
Max screamed, and the big hand covered her mouth.
Chapter Twenty
“You’ll wake the neighbors,” he whispered in her ear.
Witt.
“All men are bastards.”
His hand muffled her words, but he chuckled. “All women are liars.”
She tugged his fingers away from her lips and turned on him. Her heart still pounded, and not just because he’d scared the crap out of her. Bud’s influence still lingered. “I’m not a liar.”
“I’m not a bastard, and my mother would resent that statement. Who’s Cameron?”
She held the stolen disk to her chest. “You know he’s my husband. You’ve read the file on him.”
“Your late husband?”
“He’s usually on time.” Except tonight, when he’d been uncharacteristically quiet as she’d battled Traynor and Tiffany.
“Sure as hell hoped you’d meant somebody else.” Witt shook his head slowly. “You talk to your dead husband?”
The room was still dark. She thought about turning on the light, but decided against it. She didn’t want to see the expression on his face. “I never quite got out of the habit of discussing issues with him.”
“He doesn’t answer you?”
She chewed on her lower lip a moment. “It’s just a tool I use when I’m working out a problem. Like thinking out loud.” She was a liar, after all; it was good to know she hadn’t lost her touch.
A book clattered to the floor near her nightstand. Max did her best to ignore it. She was, however, aware of Witt’s movement in the dark. He must have eyes like a cat, because he went directly to the side of her bed and picked up the book. Illumination from the streetlights was enough to show his furrowed brow. He opened his mouth, shut it, then put the book down next to her clock.
It was time to attack, before he could think too much and come up with a bizarre question that she could only answer with an even more bizarre lie. “What are you doing in my apartment? And just exactly how did you get in? Where the hell is your truck? I didn’t see it.” It wasn’t like her to miss a black Ram, even in her current flustered state.
Like any good cop, Witt took the offensive. “Where’ve you been?”
“That’s none of your business.” Being alone in the dark with him suddenly unnerved her. She found the light switch and filled the room with a bright overhead glow. “I asked how you got in.” She folded her arms across her chest.
“Got fifteen minutes from home, and it suddenly occurred to me how eager you were for an early night.” He took three steps toward her. “Too eager.” He smiled lazily. “Just knew something was up.”
She held up the disk. “I went out to rent a movie.”
“It took almost three hours? And it’s not even in a case. Try again, Max, my love.”
She ignored the endearment—he didn’t mean it per se—and stuck her tongue between her teeth. Thinking hard, she came up with the perfect answer. “I checked out the Round Up. To see if anything interesting was happening.”
“Lying again. Doesn’t become you. I already went there looking for you.”
Holy shit, the man actually thought she was a ...
A man-hungry she-devil, Cameron supplied. Yeah, fine, he knew just when to jump to her defense. Bastard.
“Shut. Up.” Two distinct sentences. Venom in her tone.
Witt cocked his head at her odd answer and took two more steps. “Just be glad I didn’t find you there.”
She hated to ask. “Why?”
“Because I’d have dragged you back here, thrown you on your bed, and had my wicked way with you.” His mouth curved. “And you would have liked it.”
Oh God, she certainly would have. Around him, she sizzled, just like Cameron said she did.
“Then in the morning, you’d have scratched my eyes out.”
She’d have done that, too.
“So, better all around that I didn’t find you there. Where’d you really go, Max?”
One more step. With the size of his stride, he’d managed to get within a foot and a half of where she stood. He smelled ... clean. So very different from Bud Traynor.
She ignored his question to ask one of her own. “So, while you were out trying to find me, did you at least make some headway on the Snake thing?”