Troublemaker (32 page)

“Exactly. He hasn't had a nibble. So we're dead in the water because I still don't have a fucking clue why I was targeted. If it helps, anything happening in town would be damn stupid on the part of whoever is behind this. If they slip past Axel's trap, more than likely they'll come to your house.”

“Ah,” she said neutrally. “That definitely explains your insistence on all the security upgrades.”

“I think the chance is small, but I can't discount the possibility. I'd rather be cautious than unprepared. Until and unless we hear from Axel that the trap was sprung and the jerks caught . . .” He shrugged.

“Nothing to do but wait,” she said.

He was silent a minute, then said carefully, “Does that mean you aren't going to kick my ass to the curb?”

“I don't know,” she said honestly. “There's a lot to think about. I know Axel, remember? He came up with the idea, and you were probably half-conscious at the time, juiced up on pain medication—” Considering how weak he'd been when he'd arrived, she could only imagine how serious his condition had still been when Axel cooked up his plan. And then the bastard had put him on the road from wherever to drive here on his first day out of the hospital. Most people would have collapsed before they got halfway here. Morgan had gutted it out, but then, Axel had likely known he would.

“Don't give me a full pass because I've had plenty of time to think about it since I got off the funny flying stuff.”

“I'm not giving you a full pass,” she said testily. “This is serious, so don't rush me, okay? I need to think about things.” One of those things was how he didn't try to sidestep the issue or pass blame off on Axel, which would be laughably easy.

“I'd rather you punch me in the nose and get it over with.”

“You don't get to choose. I'm pissed, but I'm still deciding how to allocate the pissery.”

“Oh, God.” His arms tightened around her. “Serves me right, falling for a reasonable woman. I'd rather you yell and get it over with.”

Bo sat quietly in his embrace, letting his words seep through her.
She was cautious enough, suspicious enough, about romantic relationships that her first cynical thought was to wonder if he'd said he was falling for her as . . . manipulation, maybe. He was sharply intelligent, as witnessed by the way he'd so rapidly and correctly assessed Jesse's character and adjusted his attitude and approach on the fly. He could read people, knew how to say what he needed to say to get what he wanted.

On the other hand, except for the information that he'd omitted at the beginning, as far as she knew, he'd always told her the truth. He hadn't hidden anything from her, he'd answered all her questions . . . and yesterday he'd risked his own life to protect her and Tricks.

She watched the lake, seeing the ripples that probably signaled small fish coming to the surface, watching the bank reeds sway in the breeze. Tricks nosed around, following one interesting smell to another interesting smell, her extravagant tail swishing happily back and forth. Morgan's arms were around her, his strength between her and the world. She didn't know what to think about that because she'd always stood alone, handled things alone—until she'd come to Hamrickville.

She knew there wasn't anything special about the little town, except maybe the fond blend of admiration and fear in which everyone held the Mean-As-Shit Hobsons, that she could have found friendship and caring in almost any place she chose. Except she hadn't chosen, being here had been forced on her by her finances, and it was what it was. They were her friends. They were hers to protect.

That line of thought led to her wondering if Morgan thought of her, and them, as his to protect. He'd been there when she needed him. He'd gone above and beyond. For better or worse, he was becoming part of the town. People greeted him with a “Hey, Morg!” as if he'd become one of them. Jesse treated him with respect, and Bo had to admit that weighed big in Morgan's favor because Jesse was nobody's fool.

If she was going to sit here and think of reasons why she shouldn't blame Morgan for the situation, there were several. He treated her with respect; not once had he ever made her feel less than capable. He didn't second-guess her, he didn't question her decisions, he made it plain that
he considered it her-house-her-rules and he was willing to do whatever he could to help her. He treated her as an equal, which, considering the kind of man he was and what he did, was quite a statement.

And, if she wanted to keep going down this particular road, he was as completely under Tricks's paw as she was. He'd fought it, but now he made no pretense of being indifferent. Maybe she needed her head examined to base a decision on whether or not someone loved her dog, but Tricks was so important to her that she couldn't discount it.

On impulse she called Tricks to her. “Tricks! Here, sweetie.” She clapped her hands. “Come get a hug.”

Tricks whirled and came bounding to her, a big smile on her face. The sunshine glinted on her pale gold coat, catching the iridescent threads in the soft fur and making her glow. Enthusiastically she pounced, licking Bo's face and hands, her tail wagging so hard her entire body was wiggling back and forth. “Pretty girl,” Bo crooned, warding off some of the swipes of Tricks's tongue while engaging in her own hugging and petting. “You're such a smart girl. What do you think of Morgan, huh?” She held Tricks's head still and went eye to eye with her. Tricks stilled, her expression becoming one of intent listening as if she knew Bo was telling her something important.

Bo jerked her thumb at Morgan. “He did something I don't like, and I can't decide if I should keep him or not. Mostly it wasn't his fault.”

“Son of a bitch,” Morgan muttered. “No pun intended. You're asking a dog to decide—”

“Whether you get probation,” Bo finished coolly. “Yes. She's an excellent judge of character, in case you haven't noticed. She doesn't get the final vote, but I want to know her opinion. Tricks, is Morgan worth keeping?”

Tricks turned her dark gaze on Morgan as if considering. Bo felt him tense, and part of her wanted to laugh. She was only half serious, but the half that was, yeah, that half wanted to know what Tricks thought. The thing was, Bo couldn't remember asking her such an abstract question before; she
thought
it was possible Tricks would at least partially understand, but she wasn't sure. Either way, watching the faint
alarm with which Morgan awaited Tricks's verdict was amusing, and she could use some amusement now.

After a few seconds, Tricks moved forward and licked Morgan on the cheek. Then she backed away, wagged her tail, and returned to her own pursuits.

Bo and Morgan sat in silence, watching her. Eventually he said, “I've been blessed.”

“Not quite the same as coming from the pope, but yeah.”

“Do I get probation?”

She let the sentence lie between them for a while, but the truth was that she wasn't ready to make a final decision, couldn't make one. “I guess so. There's a lot weighing in your favor.”

He laid his cheek against the side of her head. She didn't have to spell it out for him; he knew that she was pissed and might stay pissed for a while, but she wasn't kicking him out and they'd work through it. That was what people in real relationships did, she thought with a sharp twinge of terror. Dear God, was this a real relationship? Part of it felt real, felt like more than sex. They'd been living together for weeks, building a routine and meshing their lives together.

“Maybe it's real,” she said faintly.

“I guess I'll need to work on making up your mind for certain,” he said, then threw a thumbs-up toward Tricks. “Thanks, girl.”

B
O WAS GOOD WITH LEAVING THINGS UP IN THE AIR FOR
a while until she was able to give the situation more thought or until something actually
happened
. She'd have felt a lot worse about being pressured to make an immediate decision because this was too important. She could think of this thing she and Morgan had going on, as he'd put it, though it felt strange to regard herself as half of a couple. She could imagine him being a part of her life for a while, perhaps even quite a while. She could embrace what they had now without regret despite what he'd told her. Those were the things she
could
do. What she couldn't do was bring herself to think in terms of permanency because that meant she'd have to deal with more than she was ready for. She could handle the near future, she could handle the now, but she couldn't handle more of a commitment than that.

She wasn't blind to the circumstances that had shaped her; she had deliberately made the decision to close off the romantic part of life and be solitary. She'd liked being solitary, liked the security it gave her. It had required a traumatic event to get her to change her mind, one that had shaken her to the core and that she would rather have not experienced, but yesterday had happened. It was real, and she dealt well with reality. Things were different now. She had rearranged her priorities, willingly and deliberately.

On the drive from the lake back to the house, she sat quietly in the back, occasionally glancing at Morgan as he expertly steered the Jeep through the huge granite boulders, around trees, and angled it across dips. She liked the solid set of his head on those broad shoulders, the sure grip of his big rough hands on the steering wheel, the alertness with which he noted every detail, his head constantly turning. Nothing would surprise him, she thought.

She watched as he reached over to stroke Tricks's neck and was rewarded by a quick lick. Tricks was practically beaming; she'd had a great day. She had ridden to and from the lake in the front seat, gone swimming, and retrieved her ball until she was too tired to chase it anymore. She'd had a good nap and a chew bone. Looking at that happy, innocent creature made Bo's heart fill with love and tenderness, and she had to smile.

“Thank you for her,” she said quietly.

He gave her a swift glance in the rearview mirror. “I couldn't let anything happen to either of you. I'd have killed him with my bare hands first.”

He would have too; that wasn't an empty boast, it was a flat statement of what he could and would do. She accepted that, was even comforted by it. She wasn't certain what it said about her that she liked having his lethal ability standing between her and the world. She'd never before felt the need to be protected, but yesterday had proved that bad things could happen anytime and anywhere, and men like Morgan stood ready to step in. Jesse would have done the same, or any of her officers, but even though they would have known Kyle, would they have recognized that something was out of whack simply because he wore a jacket? Maybe, maybe not; they hadn't dealt with that type of situation before. Morgan had immediately recognized the threat and taken action, and no matter what happened between them in the future, she would love him forever for what he'd done the day before.

When they reached the house, he got out and went around to unclip Tricks's harness and let her out, then waited for Bo to climb out of the
backseat. When she was mostly out, he gripped her by the waist and lifted her out the rest of the way, set her on the ground.

“Thanks,” she said, pushing her hair back, then looked up when he didn't immediately release her.

He pulled her in and bent his head, taking her mouth in a kiss that was too long and too deep to be comfortable for either of them. She responded with so much warmth and passion that she surprised herself, but that was the “thing” between them, and she accepted the strength of it. When he drew away, she let her head drop forward to rest against his chest, and he stroked his hands up and down her back, down to cup her ass and hold her against him.

Oh, God, she enjoyed this, the freedom to touch him and be touched. It was enough for now. He was here, Tricks was here, and Bo was a little surprised to realize how happy she was despite what he'd told her. Annoyed, yes . . . but happy.

They unloaded the Jeep and he took the cooler; with his free arm around her they walked to the house and she unlocked it. Again she had the sense of family, the three of them, with Tricks dancing around their feet while she and Morgan emptied the cooler and put things away.

Bo hadn't taken her cell phone with her, wanting to ensure that their peace wasn't disturbed, and when she glanced at the big industrial wall clock in the kitchen, she was a little startled to see that it was after three o'clock. Either she'd napped longer than Morgan had estimated, or their lovemaking had taken longer than she'd guessed—maybe both. The time at the lake had flown, so what had felt like just a couple of hours was twice that.

There would be more days spent at the lake. She intended to make an outright habit of it.

She checked the answering machine: no messages. There weren't any missed calls or texts on her cell either. She had to suspect that Mayor Buddy had laid down the law and told everyone not to bother her today, which made her want to give him a hug. Just as she had the thought, her phone played a fanfare, her text signal. That was what she got for tempting fate by thinking about the lack of calls. This text, how
ever, was from Daina, who was pretty much immune to Mayor Buddy's benign tyranny. The message said:
You okay?

Bo texted back:
Pretty much.

Daina:
Want me to bring dinner?

Bo started to say no, then reconsidered:
What's on the menu?

Daina:
LOL. Any takeout you desire.

Just joking. Thx for the offer, but we've got plenty of food.

Daina:
K, let me know if you need anything.

I will.

Daina:
Is Hot Stuff taking care of you?

Bo smiled. When had Morgan become “Hot Stuff”? To tease Daina she texted,
Who
?

Daina:
Oh, pls. The hunk who looks at you like he could eat you up.

She texted back:
Oh, him.
But she was taken aback, because—really? Morgan looked at her like that?

Daina:
Snort.

Bo deleted the texts because she always did, on the theory that she could never be embarrassed by something that wasn't there. She smiled a little as she put the phone down, glad she had friends, glad she was no longer so solitary. Despite her best efforts to not let anyone matter to her, they did. Slowly and surely she had developed relationships, even if there hadn't been any romantic ones—until Morgan.

Because that was the way she rolled, she went to the computer and sat down. She needed to carefully consider all aspects of the situation; to that end, she set up a chart of pros and cons, so she could clearly see and balance each item.

“You're working?” Morgan asked from the kitchen. She thought he might be about to cook something, but she didn't look over to verify her hunch.

“Not exactly,” she absently replied.

Under the con heading she listed:
Put town at risk.
She sat there another minute or so, thinking, but to her surprise she couldn't come up with anything else. Yes, he had lied by omission, but that came under the risk to the town. He also thought any risk to the town was negligible,
that trouble was more likely to come here, to her house. Maybe that also came under the same heading, and he'd taken steps to minimize that risk.

Other than that . . . what?

After fruitlessly staring at the blinking cursor for a while, she moved over to the pro column. The first thing that came to mind was that as soon as they had moved into an intimate relationship, he'd come clean. He hadn't tried to hide it, hadn't made excuses. His honesty there completely counterbalanced the whole lied-by-omission item. He was a man, not a man-child. He accepted responsibility for his own actions, as well as the actions of others.

He'd risked his own life to protect her and Tricks.

He stood willing to back her up any time she needed it but was confident enough that he didn't have to make a production of it. He trusted her to handle her life and her job.

Those were big things.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him moving toward her and knew he was about to be nosy given that she'd said she wasn't working. She hadn't entered any of the things she'd been thinking in the pro column, and an imp of mischief prompted her to quickly type:
Has a big dick
.

He moved like a ghost, without making a sound, but she felt his presence like a mild electrical charge as he stood behind her.

There was a short pause as he read the headings of the columns, then the two items listed. He gave a quick snort of laughter and pulled her up from the chair, turning her to face him. His eyes were dancing with amusement, his hard mouth quirked in a grin. “All I need to know is, does the pro outweigh the con?”

She looped her arms around his neck and nestled her head against his shoulder, sinking into his warmth and strength. “No, but all the other stuff I didn't write down does.” She had needed to think it out, but now that she had, there was no doubt, no hesitation. She knew this man, knew the steel that made him, and the fact that he was a surprisingly nice guy was the cherry on top.

“I won't ask what the other stuff is. I will ask if spaghetti with a salad and garlic bread will suit you for dinner.”

“Yes, it will, and why ask when the sauce is already cooking? I can smell it.”

“I needed an excuse to come see what you're doing.”

She smiled against his shoulder. “Daina called you ‘Hot Stuff.' She also said you look at me like you could eat me up.”

“Yeah? How about that. Seems to me I already have.” His voice dropped a couple of notes and memory sent a frisson of pure sensual pleasure up her spine. “I plan on doing it again too.”

He was seducing her before she'd even had the promised spaghetti. Bo tried to remember if she'd ever been seduced before; she didn't think she had. Two days ago she'd have said she didn't want to be seduced, but that was two days ago.

She was happy, she thought with a little shock.
Happy
. She'd have said before that she was happy, certainly that she was content, but the fizz of euphoria in her veins showed her the difference.

Happy
. It would take some getting used to.

Going back to work the next day, and taking Tricks with her, was
more difficult than Bo had anticipated. As the clock ticked toward time to head to town, her sense of dread grew. She started to ask Morgan to keep Tricks at home for her, but when it was time to leave, he joined her. “I'm not ready to let you out of my sight,” he said flatly, scowling. “It'll take me a while to get over seeing that son of a bitch pull his weapon and knowing I couldn't take a shot.”

She'd felt much the same way, knowing there was nothing she could do to save Tricks. She looked at the dog, who was bouncing at the door in anticipation. “I've always felt she was better off with me, but being with me may put her in danger.”

“Only from Kyle Gooding, and the bastard won't be poking his head out of a jail for quite a while.”

“He'll get bail.”

“He could. But he won't. He knows better.”

That was all Morgan said, but Bo got a clearer picture of why Kyle was going to plead guilty—and now she had no doubt that he would. Morgan was waiting for him if he got out of jail.

The citizens of Hamrickville had become accustomed enough to Morgan's black Tahoe that any time they saw it, they expected Bo and Tricks to be inside. Morgan let down the windows so the people could see Tricks, and Tricks could collect her accolades. There seemed to be more people in town today than usual, so there were more calls of “Tricks!” and more waves. Tricks, of course, acted as if it were a continuation of the parade and began woofing happily, turning her head from side to side to include all her subjects.

Seeing that, seeing Tricks's enjoyment and happiness, helped soothe Bo's heart. She smiled back at Tricks, grateful that the dog was untouched by the terror that had so devastated her. She wanted Tricks to be happy and confident every day of her life.

Morgan parked behind the police station as he always did, and they went in the back. Bo was in front; she skidded to a stop when she saw what was at her desk, and Morgan bumped into her from behind, sending her lurching off balance. His arm immediately locked around her to support her, holding her against him until she was steady again.

A huge bouquet of balloons was anchored to her office chair, gently swaying and bobbing in the office air currents. Tricks froze, staring at the balloons for a moment before darting forward, her tail wagging madly as she planted herself under them, looking upward with such intensity Bo thought she might be plotting the trajectory needed to get to them. There had to be at least thirty of the things, in all colors, and they were definitely within Tricks's leaping range.

“Those balloons are about to be toast,” Morgan said as he eased himself between Tricks and her target. He untied the strings from Bo's chair and re-anchored the balloons to the handle on the top drawer of a tall filing cabinet. Tricks followed him, her dark gaze still locked on the tantalizing arrangement, then she turned her head and stared at the chair positioned beside the cabinet.

Bo said urgently, “Move the chair!” and Morgan whisked it away just as Tricks was gathering herself to leap into it, and from there to the balloons. Thwarted, Tricks gave a disgruntled huff and trotted to Bo's desk, where she raised her nose to the edge and sniffed at a mystery box perched in the middle.