Boone glanced at the doorway and chuckled deep in his throat as he looked down at his bedmate. “I do have evil purposes in mind,” he confided in a low tone, “but they’re probably all hiding ten feet from the door, waiting for developments. So we have to behave.”
She sighed deeply. “Okay,” she replied. Her hand, under the sheet, reached over to touch his muscular arm. She closed her eyes, comforted by the contact. “I’ve been afraid to sleep for days,” she whispered. “Now I’m not.”
He smoothed a hand over her blond hair. “Go to sleep,” he said. “I’ll keep you safe.”
“I know that.”
He went back to the spreadsheet. Seconds later, in the long silence that followed, three sets of eyes peered cautiously in the door.
“What?” Boone asked belligerently.
They scattered to the four winds. Bailey climbed into his bed, circled a few times, lay down and yawned and went back to sleep.
* * *
The next morning, Keely heard a car drive up. She opened her eyes slowly, disoriented. She was lying next to a warm, hard body that had her wrapped up gently against it. They were both under the covers.
Boone looked down at her warmly. “Ready for breakfast?” he asked softly. “I hear movement from the general direction of the kitchen.”
She curled closer. “I could eat.”
They were both on her side of the bed, and had apparently been close like that all night. Keely felt so safe and cozy that she was reluctant to move.
Voices murmured downstairs, and heavy, quick footsteps came up the staircase. Hayes Carson walked in, his uniform a little rumpled, like his blond, brown-streaked hair under his Stetson.
He stopped, lifting both eyebrows.
Boone yawned. “I’ve got a gun,” he murmured.
“I haven’t said anything yet,” Hayes protested.
Boone glared at him. “To protect Keely with,” he added.
“Oh.”
Hayes marched over to the bed, threw his hat on the carpeted floor, climbed in next to Boone and lay back on the pillows. “God, I’m tired! I’ve been up all night helping interrogate Keely’s father and his friend.”
“Make yourself comfortable,” Boone drawled sarcastically.
“Thanks, I will,” Hayes replied. “This is the most comfortable bed I’ve ever been in,” he added. He reached down, scooped up his hat and set it over his eyes. “I could sleep for a week!”
“Tell me what you’re doing here first,” Boone said.
“In order to save his skin, Keely’s father made a plea deal. He gave us his friend Jock on a murder charge. It seems that Jock killed a woman in Arizona. He was the chief suspect, but they couldn’t get the evidence to convict him. Keely’s father has a watch that belonged to the dead woman, and he can put Jock there at the time of the murder.” He smiled under the hat.
“What about my father?” Keely wanted to know.
“Three to five, on accessory charges. We talked to the assistant D.A. last night, too.”
“Maybe it will teach him something,” Keely said, but she didn’t sound convinced.
“Don’t look for miracles,” Boone advised. “With lawbreakers, they rarely happen.”
“Like you know,” Hayes drawled from under the hat. He crossed his long legs.
There was the sound of another car arriving. A car door slammed. Voices murmured. Another sound of footsteps, but these were soft and quick and almost undetectable.
Kilraven poised in the doorway, staring. “Well, if that isn’t just like county law enforcement,” he muttered. “Walk out in the middle of an interrogation and leave the hard work to the local law!”
