Body Heat (20 page)

But some opportunities were too good to pass up.

This one was absolutely
golden.
The light in the bedroom told him where she was. He imagined her sorting through his belongings, searching for that picture he'd shown around the bar. Maybe she was even hoping to find some evidence to link him to the UDA murders. But
the only thing she'd find was the newspaper clipping of herself on the back of his bedroom door.

Would it frighten her to read what he'd written across her face? Or would it simply anger her?

The door creaked as it swung open. He paused to listen for footsteps, but couldn't hear a sound from inside, especially when Caesar barked once, twice. He wanted to kick the damn dog, would've had him put down a long time ago if not for the hope that his family would come back. Caesar belonged to Millie, his oldest daughter. He didn't dare get rid of him. It was going to be bad enough if she found out he didn't allow the dog inside anymore because he was tired of the hair, the smell and the bother of letting him out every few hours.

Gun in hand, he stepped into the tiny laundry room his wife had once kept so tidy and edged into the hallway. Sophia wouldn't be expecting him. He hadn't even driven past the trailer. He'd turned onto the road, spotted her cruiser and stopped before coming close enough for his headlights or anything else to give him away.

Taking a moment to calm his nerves, he went through the logistics of what he hoped to achieve. If he shot her while entering his bedroom, he'd have to say he'd fallen asleep in Kayla and Millie's room, or the forensic evidence wouldn't match. Their room was where he stored his guns, anyway, so that would make sense.

It would all be over with the squeeze of a trigger.

After she was dead, the city council would probably reinstate him. He could convince his wife that Sophia had been lying all along, that this was proof she'd been after him from the beginning. And he'd be able to get his former life back.

He could hardly wait to quit that dusty egg ranch, to tell Dwight to take his job and shove it….

His heart raced as he poked his head into the room. He didn't see Sophia, but the light in the master bath was also on.

Come out, come out, wherever you are,
he chanted silently and slipped through the open doorway. The floor squeaked ever so slightly with each step, but he wasn't worried about the noise. He'd seen her shadow in the bathroom. She was trapped.

Keeping his finger on the trigger, he led with his gun. But that shadow didn't belong to Sophia or anyone else. It was merely the reflection of the dark blue towel he'd hung on a nail that had once held a picture his wife had taken when she left him.

Frustrated to think he didn't know his own home anymore, he was about to swing toward the bedroom when Sophia came up behind him and pressed a cold, hard object into the base of his skull—an object he recognized even before she spoke.

“Drop the gun, or I'll blow your head off.”

L
eonard froze but didn't lower his weapon. He couldn't believe Sophia would fire. She didn't have the nerve. That was partially why he was so upset that the town had been stupid enough to give her his job. The mayor, the council members, they were all pretending she had the balls, but she couldn't compete with him, not when it came to the rough stuff. And police work was full of rough stuff.

Political correctness disgusted him. But Sophia's supporters would pay a high price. He was watching that happen, was
showing
them their mistake. “You fire, and you'll go to prison. Is that really what you want?” he asked.

“I won't go to prison. I called my cell phone from your number fifteen minutes ago.”

She didn't have to explain why. He knew. She'd say that call came from him. That once she arrived, he attacked her. And it wouldn't be a hard lie to sell. He'd made it very clear how he felt about her—to just about everyone in town. He couldn't imagine there'd be many people who'd have difficulty believing that scenario. To make matters worse, he'd left his cell at home so no one could use it to place him in a particular area if he was ever caught doing what he was doing.

“How'd you know when I got here?” He'd been so damn careful, so sure he had the upper hand. “Did you hear me coming down the hall?”

“I heard everything from the moment you opened the door. I was waiting, listening. I figured you had to come home sooner or later.” She jammed the gun into his head. “Drop your weapon.” Maybe she
would
fire. She didn't like him any more than he liked her. She certainly hadn't hesitated to destroy his marriage, his reputation or his career.

Whether she'd act on her threat or not, this situation had grown too risky. There was no need to get into a shoot-out with her. His original plan was working; all he had to do was stick to it.

Slowly, he bent to put his gun on the floor, and she kicked it into the bathroom, out of reach.

“Where've you been tonight, Leonard?”

If only she knew what he'd been doing for the past twenty-four hours. Too bad the listening devices he'd planted in her car, home and office only worked if he was close by. Eager to catch up since he'd last “tuned in,” he'd tried to find her after he left the bar, but he hadn't succeeded. She'd deviated from her usual home, station and patrol routines; she'd been in his trailer.

“None of your damn business,” he said.

“It will become my business if you've been out in the desert shooting illegal immigrants.”

He laughed softly. “Sorry, Sophia. I'm not the one who's killing wetbacks. But if you want my opinion, I think the guy who's doing it deserves a medal.”

“Then you're as twisted as he is,” she said. “But that doesn't surprise me.”

“You're so sure it's me that you're missing the obvious.”

“Which is…”

“Oh, no.” He shook his head. “You'll have to work that one out for yourself. I'm the
last
person who'd ever help you.”

She lowered the gun so it wasn't pointing directly at him, but she didn't put it away. “I don't need your help, Leonard. That's not why I'm here.”

Easing himself onto the bed, he stretched out his legs. “No?”

“I'm here for the picture.”

He smiled. “Oh, that. Of course.”

“Where is it?”

Eager to witness her reaction, he shifted to one side so he could pull it from his back pocket. Then he turned it face out but held it far enough away that he could snatch it back if she grabbed for it. News of her having an affair with her stepfather would be all over town by tomorrow. The picture had already served its purpose, but he couldn't relinquish it to her or anyone else. He'd had to do a lot of work in Photoshop to get that picture to look as real as it did. The image seemed authentic in the dim light of a bar, even here in the bedroom if viewed from a distance, but he had no illusions that it could withstand a close inspection, especially by the subject herself.

To his gratification, the sight of what he'd created made the color drain from Sophia's face. “Where did you get that?”

“Where do you think?”

“Not from Gary. There's no way he could've taken that photo. For one, it's recent.”

When he hadn't been able to find any pictures of Sophia
except those snapped at Lake Powell during a trip they'd taken at the invitation of the former chief of police, Leonard had had to adjust his story. But gossip about a current affair would do more damage to Sophia, anyway. Councilwoman Torres definitely hadn't liked what she'd seen. She'd stiffened the moment she took hold of the picture and recognized who it was. Then she'd assumed an air of superiority that told him exactly what she thought of Sophia St. Claire. And she'd been one of Sophia's most ardent supporters!

“I guess I misunderstood,” he said. “I was sure Gus was talking about an old affair, but when he brought this to the bar tonight I realized it was taken within the past couple of years.”

“Gus didn't bring that to the bar,” she said. “Gus isn't even in town. He's in Flagstaff.”

Leonard hadn't been aware of that when he'd used Gus's name. Other than running into him at the Firelight occasionally, they had little or no contact. But it didn't matter. Leonard was only trying to torment Sophia; making her scramble to suppress the rumors he'd started would certainly do that. Especially because those rumors were founded on a kernel of truth—a kernel that was already painful for her.

“Then someone else must've given it to me.”

“Or it isn't me at all,” she said. “What'd you do? Doctor one of the pictures we took at Powell?”

She'd caught on quickly, even though he'd done an excellent job of changing the background. But knowing what he'd done wouldn't improve her situation. She wouldn't be able to counteract the damage to her reputation. Too many people had seen the photograph. Regardless of how much she denied that anything had happened, they'd secretly
wonder what had gone on between her and Gary. Particularly since there'd been rumors when she'd left home before graduating from high school.

“I guess you'll never know, huh?” Laughing, he pulled out his lighter. The breasts he'd superimposed over her bikini top were gorgeous—for all he knew they were nicer than the real thing. He'd been careful to choose someone about her size and shape. But as fond as he was of his work, the time had come to destroy it.

Realizing what he was about to do, she lifted her gun again. “Oh, no, you don't.”

“Go ahead and shoot,” he said, and lit the edge of the photograph.

With a curse, Sophia tossed her gun aside and lunged to stop him. He blocked her with one arm, but he was sitting on the bed, which put him at a disadvantage. He had to drop the picture in order to keep her away from it. Fortunately, it continued to burn where it landed on the floor. He just had to hold her down until it was too late.

“There goes your proof,” he whispered in her ear. “Proof that I got those tits off a porn site on the Internet. At least I made you look good, huh? I could've used a picture of some tits that'd been butchered by an implant operation gone wrong.
That
would cause a stir with all the guys who like to dream about getting in your pants.”

If she could've reached her gun at that moment, she might've shot him. He'd never seen her fight so hard or become so incensed, but she was no match for his size and strength. The picture was completely destroyed by the time he let go of her and got up to put out the fire that was beginning to lick at the carpet.

Sophia's chest heaved as she scrambled off the bed and watched him stamp out the ashes. She looked utterly
distraught. And that made Leonard happier than he'd been in more than a year.

Victory. At last. He could hardly wait till she saw what he had in store for her next.

 

When Sophia arrived home, she was wiped out, physically and emotionally. She now knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Leonard was out to destroy her. It was as personal as it could get. But knowing didn't help. Her life was unraveling so fast Sophia didn't seem able to stop it. She kept searching for the quickest, surest way of breaking her fall, but she couldn't grasp so much as a handhold.

Part of her wished she'd shot him. The way he'd taunted her, he'd asked for it. But she was a cop. That meant something to her. It meant she couldn't abuse her right to carry a firearm, couldn't abuse her power in any way, or she'd be no better than he was.

She told herself that what he'd done wasn't the end of the world. That picture was a fake, the type of prank some stupid boy might play in high school. She'd simply deny any wrongdoing, do what she could to silence the rumors and weather the embarrassment. What other option did she have? But none of this would be easy. Everyone she met would wonder if it was true. Her mother would freak out and blame her, maybe quit speaking to her. And it could affect her job. Elizabeth Torres had seen that photo, which might legitimize the gossip, take it beyond the realm of a few guys talking dirty over beer.

Covering a yawn, she shuffled up the walk, her feet feeling like lead. She needed a chance to regroup and recover. But one question made it impossible to put the picture fiasco out of her head: How did Leonard find out about Gary? She doubted her mother had told him. Gary
must've said something to someone recently, intimated that she'd been receptive to his advances. And Leonard had heard about it, probably at the Firelight, where so much of Bordertown's gossip got started. That was the only reasonable explanation….

She walked into her bedroom before remembering that she'd let Rod stay the night. Until this second, she'd been too upset to think of anything but Leonard and what he was doing to antagonize her. Now she realized she didn't even have a bed to fall into.

While she stood in the middle of the room, trying to decide whether she should make Rod move to the couch or sleep there herself, he leaned up on one elbow.

“Hey,” he murmured sleepily and slid over. “'Bout time you got home. You coming to bed?”

He said it as if there was no reason they couldn't share her bed, and suddenly Sophia couldn't name one, either. Although his injuries were more visible, she was hurt, too. What would it matter if they curled up together?

“Why not,” she said, and took a pair of boxers and a T-shirt into the bathroom to change. After hanging her uniform over the door, she crossed the room and climbed into the spot he'd vacated for her.

The residual heat from his body was a welcome contrast to the cool air pumping into the room, courtesy of her hard-working air conditioner. But he didn't move, didn't touch her. She was so sure he'd gone back to sleep, she inched closer to his body, searching for the comfort she couldn't seem to find anywhere else. Somehow it helped just to hear him breathe.

He must've felt her move, must've sensed that she wanted to be near him, because he rolled over and scooped
her up against his side as if they'd been sleeping together for years.

Once she noticed he was partially awake, she thought he might try to kiss her or touch her. She'd certainly made herself accessible, had even slipped one of her legs over one of his.

But he didn't. “You okay?” he asked.

“I'm fine,” she lied. “What about you?”

“Better now,” he said with what sounded like a smile, and drifted off to sleep.

It felt good to be held, so good Sophia didn't want to fall asleep despite the fatigue that had been dragging at her only minutes before. She lay awake for a long time, her head on his shoulder, her arm on his bare chest.

And then she began to crave something far less platonic.

 

Rod felt Sophia touch him while he was still half-asleep. Her hand traveled across his chest and hesitated briefly on his pectoral muscle before skimming lightly over his nipple. He told himself she was just shifting, trying to get comfortable. He thought maybe she was asleep and didn't realize that her movements were so sensual. But a second later, he felt her press her lips to the indentation above his collarbone and knew she was doing more than merely seeking a new position in which to sleep.

Should he accept the invitation she was extending?

Should
was a difficult word. The answer was probably not. Maybe
definitely
not. He'd made that decision, hadn't he? But he'd fantasized about Sophia so many times when he was younger that he knew it would take a stronger man than he was to refuse her. He was already rock hard, al
ready thinking about the moment he'd feel her hips lift to meet his.

Determined to take it slow and savor every second, for old times' sake if for no other reason, he moved his hand up the back of her shirt to massage the muscles on either side of her spine.

“I thought your offer had been rescinded,” she whispered.

He grinned at the slight taunt in her voice. “And I thought you had to protect your reputation.”

“I don't seem to have much to lose anymore.”

This sounded more serious than he'd expected. “Something happen tonight?”

“Nothing I want to talk about.”

Should he force the issue? Not now. He had the one person he'd always dreamed about in his arms and she was finally receptive to him. There'd be time to talk later. In the morning. Right now, he preferred to communicate with his hands.

Her breathing grew shallow when he cupped her breast. “You sure you're not sex-starved?” he teased. “Because it feels that way to me.”

“If I wasn't, I am now.”

He chuckled at the honesty of her response. Her flesh was so supple, so smooth. But before he took this any further, he wanted her to know she could trust him to keep his mouth shut. “I won't tell anyone about this, Sophia. This is between you and me, and no one else. I promise.”