“No! Of course not.” My gaze flies to his. “Are you?”
“Nope.”
“So, we understand each other?”
“One night and we never see each other again. Works for me.”
Wow. Just when you think the world hates you. My faith in humanity is restored. I push the button on the timer. “All right, show me what you’ve got.”
He doesn’t let grass grow under his feet. He stands, holds out his hand, and says, “Come with me.”
And I do. Many, many, many times.
Chapter 3
Charlie
The ringing phone jerks me awake, pulling me from a dream that ends right before fists hit bone. Disoriented, my heart pounding, I blink into the unfamiliar room.
Another ring.
Last night rushes over me.
The bar.
The woman.
Fumbling our way into the shitty roadside motel.
I crane my neck to find the pillow next to me empty.
I run a palm over the tangled white sheets, now cool to the touch.
The phone drones on.
I survey the room where clothes had been ripped from bodies and tossed in every direction. In the darkness of the blackout shades, I see no evidence of her things.
My attention swings to the dresser where I’d dropped her lace panties on the wooden surface as I’d fucked her from behind. The way those vivid, light-blue eyes had shot daggers as she came, cursing me, her fingernails trying to dig into the mirror to find purchase.
They’re gone.
She’s gone.
Thank fuck.
I reach for my phone on the nightstand. My chief deputy’s name lights up my screen. Shit. That’s not good.
I answer with a clipped, “What’s up?”
Ryder Moore is the best hiring decision I’ve ever made as the county sheriff. I’d fought for the budget to afford him, and he’s worth every penny.
Which is why I know my Saturday is about to be fucked.
“There’s been a twenty-car pileup on the highway.” He doesn’t bother with preamble.
I sigh. This is my least favorite part of the job. “Casualties?”
“Four total. Two critical injuries. Ten minor. Unfortunately, one of the four is Congressman Bradley Crenshaw.”