Desert Exposure (18 page)

“Doesn’t look like they even came in here,” Stanton said, standing with his legs wide, both hands fisted and on his waist, as the door rolled to a stop above them. He turned in several directions, surveying first the garage, then the Hummer.

Michael held Ralph close to his chest. He finally got to see the vehicle. There were no busted windows. “It might be a trick,” he said. “Maybe they’ve bugged it, or rigged up…”

“Yeah,” Stanton said, turning to give him an approving glance. “That occurred to me too. You want to tell me what’s going on here? What shit you and Rachel stepped in?”

Michael pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He rubbed the fur on Ralph’s head. “Sorry. No can do.” He shrugged.

“Well don’t go playing the hero.” Stanton watched him from under hooded eyelids. He indicated Rachel with a flip of his hand. “That there’s an innocent victim. We look out for our citizens of Almagro.”

That there
? Michael felt his skin prickle. He wanted to take a punch at Stanton. How could he flip Rachel off like that? She had a name. And hell, he’d even been her lover. Not that that thought made him less likely to punch the dude. He closed his eyes for a second or two and counted backwards from ten.

Stanton walked around the Hummer, careful not to try and open any door. He got down on the concrete garage floor and flashed the beam of his flashlight at the undercarriage.

Yeah, like he’d find anything
. Michael stood in silence. Better to say nothing. Let Stanton play cop, and let him ruffle his feathers and prance around to impress Rachel. Besides, he now knew whoever had followed their movements had been concentrating on Rachel, not him.

“I’ll have someone come out and check it out fully tomorrow,” Stanton said, standing and brushing at his pant legs. “You guys want to come in now and fill out a report?”

“Yes,” Rachel said. “We’ll follow you in my car.”

“You can stay at my place tonight,” Stanton said.

Seeing the way Stanton’s eyes appraised Rachel’s body, Michael moved closer. “Ah, that’s not necessary.” He threw an arm casually across her shoulders and eased her to his side, surprising his jaded self with his interest in this woman who could be such a pain in the ass. “I’ll take care of Rachel and Ralph.”

“Yes. We’ll be fine. But thanks,” Rachel said.

Stanton tilted his head, his eyebrows raised and questioning, but at least he had the good sense to keep his mouth shut.

****

Rachel parked the Mustang at the Indio PD. It would be safe there. She’d left her garage remote, and a house key, with Stanton, in case he had to go back.

She picked up Ralph and climbed out of the car and pocketed the key. Michael drove around the side of the building on a huge black motorcycle, and came to a stop. She wasn’t going anywhere without Ralph and wondered what Michael would have to say on that.

The bike wasn’t the department’s standard issue Honda that accommodated one person only, and he looked so darn hot in the helmet and leathers that her pulse started to pound and she felt herself get damp. She remembered their earlier kisses, and imagined helping him out of his gear.
Slowly
. And then pushing him back onto Grandpa’s bed, and climbing on top of him.

Stop it
. It was too damn late, and she was too tired for sex. Not that he’d asked, or really even hinted. She took in a deep breath and pushed away the thoughts of how she might mess with Michael. But first she had to explain about Ralph.

“Where’d you get the Harley?” she asked.

He shrugged. “It’s mine.”

What didn’t the guy have at his disposal? There was an extra helmet strapped onto the seat behind him. Her whole body leaped into hyper alert mode; nothing in the world quite like an adventure, especially one under the cover of night, and snuggled into the back of a hot biker.

“I borrowed a female officer’s leather jacket,” he said, and handed it up to her. “Give me Ralph.”

Ralph gave an excited bark, and Rachel felt her eyes sting. She hadn’t even had to ask about Ralph.
Who is this guy?
She blinked hard, and handed the dog over. Without a word Michael nestled the little guy inside his jacket and zippered it up so only the top of his white furry head was visible. “You ready for some fun? Put on the helmet. Might be a bit big, but it’s the best I could do.”

“It’ll be fine.”

She shrugged into the warmth of the jacket, and strapped on the head gear. Without a second thought, she slid onto the seat and wrapped her arms around Michael’s waist, and told herself not to think of it being Michael’s waist. Or Michael’s anything else.

“Let’s go.” He looked back over his shoulder and she saw the tilt of the corner of his mouth. “Hang on tight. Oh, and we’re going to have to get to the cabin by a different route. These things are noisy, especially in the dead of night.”

Rachel nodded.

“Is there another access?”

“Yes.” She thought about that for a moment. “It’s not really a road.”

“Good. I hoped you’d say that. A path, a track through the underbrush would be good. We can wheel the bike through that for the last quarter of a mile or so.”

Walk? Damn
. She should have changed out of her high-heeled boots. “We’ll have to turn off the highway about a mile from the cabin. It will take us to a path through the neighbor’s date ranch. I hope he doesn’t hear us and set the dogs on us.” She laughed nervously. “Oh, I just remembered he’s not home…it’s probably where you parked the car earlier.”

Michael reached back and patted her thigh with his leather gloved hand. “We’ll be fine.”

They drove in silence because of the speed and the cold night air. No way would she open her mouth to that freezing, biting wind, and he wouldn’t hear her anyway. She nestled closer. The feel of her body pressed up against his, her hands tight around his waist, made up for any feelings of cold.

She flattened her breasts to his back and softly breathed on his neck, telling herself she kept that tiny stretch of skin between helmet and scarf warm. But deep in her abdomen she knew she was playing a wild and spontaneous dance. One she thought she’d sworn off forever.

****

Michael put the bike inside the screened in front verandah, and then covered it with a tarp. He picked up a date palm frond and swept all the way to the almost hidden pathway, removing tire marks, and then walking backwards to the cabin he continued to sweep to remove all trace of footsteps. He knew the night desert winds would help to cover tracks, but he also knew never to rely on the weather. Exhaustion swamped him. And that said a lot, because he could go days without sleep.

He glanced up at the windows which they’d secured earlier. He’d warned Rachel not to turn on lights in the cabin, even though every window had been covered. He’d given her his flashlight. He’d drilled a couple of small spy holes in the wood panels so he could monitor the front and back approach.

Michael stood in the side yard for a few moments, looking out to sea. Most people complained of the sea’s smell. He never seemed to notice it. It would be dawn soon. Waves gently lapped the shore. Those and the bump of the boat at the dock were the only sounds. He loved the stillness, the quiet. He and the night had become great friends, and because of that he could navigate well, listening for any crack of dry underbrush, any hint of human smell, any feel for watchful eyes. In his line of work he’d become like the barn owl: solitary, nocturnal, and relying on his acute sense of hearing. He required no sight to catch his target.

They’d be safe tonight.

With a quick flex of his shoulder and back muscles he stifled a yawn and went inside the cabin. He warmed his hands over the tiny heater. “We can’t risk making a fire with a wood burning fireplace, or turn on lights.”

Rachel nodded.

Light from the red glow of the radiator coils and the flashlight that sat on the coffee table played over her face. She came to where he’d collapsed onto the small sofa and offered him a mug of tea. Ralph had already sacked out on the other end of the couch. The dog looked like he’d sleep for a week. “Thanks.” Michael inhaled the heat first, warming his nostrils.

“It’s herbal,” she said, and sat beside him. “I had it in my backpack. Grandpa only drinks black tea and I figured we need some sleep, not a caffeine jolt.”

“It smells good.” He smiled warily, taking a sip, and then another. “Peaches.”

She nodded and smiled. He loved her eyes. The hot liquid warmed his parched throat and he warmed his hands on the mug, and then rubbed it against his cheeks. “You should get some shut-eye. I’ll take the couch.”

“Nope. I know you,” she said, leaping up from the couch. “You’ll stay awake all night watching the doors. You’re sharing Grandpa’s bed with me. No hanky-panky though.”

“Believe me,” he said, and yawned. “You’ll be safe. I’m beat.” Somewhere down below, Little Michael raised his head in defiance. Michael almost laughed out loud.
What is it with guys
? Barely able to keep their eyes open, but a hot woman mentions sharing a bed and they rise to the occasion every time.

He downed the tea and put the mug in the kitchen. “We should turn in. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?”

When he turned around he realized Rachel had lost no time. She’d hurried to the bedroom. He took off his t-shirt and pulled on a pair of Henry’s gray sweatpants. Then he slipped between the sheets, but left the flashlight on. Rachel had curled onto her side, the length of her back and her small, gorgeous butt, toward him.

“Asleep?” he asked.

“Nope.”

He figured this might be the best place to ask her the personal questions that had filtered in and out of his thoughts. “Tell me about your family. You said earlier that Henry is your only living relative.”

She pulled in a long breath and blew it out.

He didn’t reach out and touch her, although he wanted to do that. “If it’s a sensitive subject…”

She surprised him by turning to face him. He backed back a little, at least the bottom half of him did. No sense scaring her off. “It’s not a painful subject anymore but it is um…I suppose, difficult to explain.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. My mother got pregnant with me and either didn’t know the father or kept his identity secret. The scandal affected my grandmother. She died before I was born. I think she had a broken heart.”

“You’re not serious?”

“Oh, absolutely,” she said. “Small towns can make your life a living hell. Everyone knows everyone, and half the townsfolk are related.”

He felt her shoulders lift in a shrug, and then fall slowly. He knew to wait.

“My mother was pretty wild. Grandpa loved her though. Only child you know…when Grandma died, and then I arrived two months later, well, he swore he’d help to raise me.”

“And your mother,” Michael asked softly, and stroked her forearm with one finger.

“She took off after my third birthday. Dumped me on her father.”

Michael’s heart cramped. Thank God she’d had a grandfather who loved her.

“He never held that against me though. I know there were times when I had to be a major inconvenience to him, and when I know I was a real pain in the ass. But he loved me.”

Michael nodded.

“We heard my mother had done some time. Petty stuff. Then she got pneumonia, and died. She’d been living on the streets of L.A…in an old car.”

Michael felt his heart cramp again. No wonder she’d been so fiercely protective of her grandfather and her small circle of friends. He’d seen enough of her mother’s chosen lifestyle in his undercover detective work. But on that he wouldn’t comment.

“I think I’m like my mother in a lot of ways,” Rachel said. “Not that I can remember her or anything. But I like adventure…and I’m awfully spontaneous.”

“How so?”

“You know, like I always follow my intuition. And I chose a bar as a business. I’m a bit wild at times. I can’t settle—”

“There’s nothing wrong with owning a place like Cliffs. It’s a classy establishment. And you know, you’re probably a lot like your father, too. And who knows, your father may never have known about you, thus his absence. He could be the most stable, boring person in the world.”

She laughed, but it sounded hoarse, throaty, like she was about to cry.

“Besides, you had a good upbringing from the sounds of things. Henry adored you.”

“He does.”

Michael felt an overwhelming desire to fold Rachel into his arms, hold her, and rock her to sleep. There was no way she’d give up on finding her grandfather unless evidence of his death was produced. Peculiar how he’d thought about rocking her to sleep; he didn’t do the emotional stuff well. She seemed to trigger something in him. What he wasn’t too sure. She rolled onto her side and pulled the sheet up over her shoulder.

“Good night,” she whispered. “I’m…I’m kind of tired.”

“Me too.” He snapped off the flashlight. He knew to leave her alone. That little hitch in her voice told him she’d been close to crying. He lay flat on his back staring into the dark room until her breaths slowed and then deepened. She’s a tough cookie, and a bit of a smart ass, but now he knew it was all a front. Underneath all that bravado was a little girl wondering why everyone she loved left her. And the last thing he needed was to hold and kiss her in her vulnerable state, they might end up making love and she might regret that in the morning.