Desert Heat (17 page)

 
Her fingers trembled. “I want to trust you.”

 
“I won’t let you down again.” He wasn’t good
with words or syrupy phrases, but he wanted her to know how much he meant every
promise. “Let me show you.”

 
“How?”
Her eyes
widened and she touched the tip of her tongue to her upper lip.

He
kissed her palm again, then her wrist. Letting go, he settled her hand back on
her suitcase and cupped her neck. Carefully, he drew her toward him. Their
mouths fractions of an inch apart, he said, “Like this.”

She
didn’t jerk away, as he expected, and run down the hallway as if her hair were
on fire. She didn’t meet him halfway as his lips settled over hers. She tasted
like bananas. He wanted to explore the cavern of her mouth, but settled for exploring
her full lips with his. He didn’t push her—apologizing with tiny, soft strokes
over her lips. She’d let him know when she wanted more.

Gently,
unwilling to go too fast, too soon, he circled her slim wrists with his hands.
She allowed him to hold her without protest. He’d made progress. He wanted
more. Testing, he pried at her lips with his tongue. She opened her mouth and
he darted in his tongue. She froze and he withdrew. Slow down.
Too much too fast.
He slid his hands up her arms and her
skin warmed under his touch.

Her
mouth opened.
An invitation.
He waited a beat before
he accepted. This time she didn’t hold back. Their tongues met, danced. They
twisted in a new, yet old ritual. She was going to forgive him.

His
heart soared.

 
“Mike, I—” Dianna’s voice interrupted them.
“Oh.”

Rotten timing.
Mallory jerked away from him and he wanted to
grab her, throw her over his shoulder and run away with her. He turned toward
Dianna, hoping she didn’t notice the way his body had reacted to Mallory’s
sweet kisses. “What is it?”

 
“I wanted to find out what the sheriff said.”
She didn’t seem to know what to do with her eyes. She looked everywhere but at
his face. He knew she’d harbored fantasies of them

together
. He didn’t like hurting her.

 
“He said he’d done some checking and your
alibi clears you. He made some noise about me being a suspect, but it was more
smoke than fire.” He glanced at Mallory. Her pink lips were swollen and
slightly parted. His jeans felt tighter.

 
“Good.” Dianna finally met his eyes. “Anyone
who would think you would kill somebody is just crazy.”

 
“Thanks, Di.”

 
She turned and waggled her fingers at him as
she walked away. “Sure.
Anytime.”

 
His neck hurt worse than it had earlier.

 
“That was awkward,” Mallory said softly.

 
“Yeah.”
He faced her.
“If we’re going to avoid another scene like that one, maybe we should go
somewhere more private.”

She
waited.

 
“Like my suite.”

She
hesitated.

His
heart thudded in painful jolts against his ribs. He wouldn’t push. She had to
decide if he had made things right between them. She bit her pink bottom lip.
Emotions flashed across her face.
Longing, indecision, fear.
Longing won.

He
held out his hand.

It
seemed to hang there for an eternity.

Then
she took it.

Chapter
Seventeen

Mallory
entered Mike’s suite ahead of him. He carried her luggage and set it near the
closet. Her heart pounded erratically and her skin felt like a million little
needles were pricking it. Mike had confessed and obviously felt bad about what
he had done. Her overwhelming attraction for him might be overriding her good
sense, but she didn’t think so. He made her heart do silly little moves, and
that was more than just a physical response.

He
flipped on the CD player and a sultry jazz tune by someone Mallory didn’t recognize
floated out from the speakers. If he lit candles, she would leave. Instead, he
went to the drapes and pulled them shut. “Would you like something to drink?”

 
“No.” She wanted his mouth on hers. She wanted
to feel his hands on her body. A tremor rocked her and she nearly gasped out
loud. Slipping off her glasses, she placed them in her sweater pocket.

He
moved toward her.

She
waited.

On
the surface she might appear calm, but her stomach fluttered and she had
already dampened in anticipation. She twisted her hands together and winced
when she bent her injured fingers.

Mike
stopped in front of her. He reached for a stray piece of hair on her cheek,
brushing it off. She leaned slightly into his hand and he cupped her cheek.
With his thumb, he smoothed her lips and she parted them slightly.

The
phone
rang,
the sound a sharp reminder of the outside
world. Mallory glanced at it.

 
“The machine will pick it up,” Mike said. His
voice came on.
This is Mike. Leave me a message.

There
was a pause, then a voice. “This is Doctor Anson at the Maricopa County—”

With
a look of regret, Mike stepped around Mallory and picked up the phone. “This is
Mike Malone. Yes, she’s right here.
Just a moment.”

Mallory
took phone from him. “This is Mallory James.”

 
“Miss James, I had some time sooner than
expected and I have completed a short exam on your father. I have some
questions. Do you know why your father would have had cactus in his feet?”

 
“He lived in the desert. I assume he stepped
in it.” She raised her eyebrows at Mike and he nodded. “I don’t think it would
be unusual for him to have some in him.”

 
“Would he have been around cactus,
specifically
cholla
, in his bare feet?” the doctor
asked.

 
“I would assume so. My father camped out in
the desert. I would imagine he came into contact with that cactus.” Mallory
shuddered and glanced at her free hand. She’d never forget how much it hurt
when she fell into the sticky plant.

 
“Your father has cactus thorns under his
toenails,” the doctor said. “It struck me as odd. I see now that it isn’t.”

“
My gosh
, that must’ve hurt him.” Mallory couldn’t imagine
how Skeeter stood that kind of pain.

“Yes,”
Dr. Anson agreed. “And it looks as if he made no move to pull them out.”

 
“Have you ever been in
cholla
?”
Mallory asked.

 
“No,” the doctor said. “But I know it is
painful.”

 
“Very. I can’t imagine someone not getting the
thorns out immediately.” Mallory looked at her palm again. Although there was
no trace of the cactus, she could easily visualize it.

 
“Unless they were unconscious,” the doctor
commented.

Mallory
didn’t answer. The idea of Skeeter lying unconscious with cactus stuck under
his toenails was almost too much to bear. “You had another question?”

 
“Yes.
Actually a comment.
Your father had an abnormal amount of insulin in his bloodstream. Was he a
diabetic?”

“I
don’t know.
Just a minute.”
Mallory covered the
mouthpiece. “Mike, do you know if my father was a diabetic?”

He
frowned. “I don’t think so. I would say not. Insulin has to be kept cold and he
wouldn’t have had any way to do that in the desert.”

Lifting
the receiver, Mallory said, “We don’t think so. But I’m not positive.”

 
“All right.
I need to
do some more investigating.”

 
“Wait,” Mallory said quickly. “I need to close
a post office box and I need a death certificate to do that. Can I come in and
get one?”

 
“Not until I determine the cause of death,”
the doctor said. “And I’m not quite ready to do that yet. I want to do some
more tests on the insulin thing. As I said, I think Friday will be the soonest
I can get to it.”

 
“Thank you.” Mallory hung up.

 
“Everything okay?”
Mike asked.

She
took her glasses out of her pocket and slid them on. “I don’t know. That was
the coroner. She asked me if Skeeter had any reason to have cactus in his feet.
He had thorns under his toenails.” She shuddered. “I can’t imagine.”

 
“Like you told her, it’s not inconceivable the
way he lived,” Mike said. “I’ve stumbled into cactus a few times myself.”

She
walked away and pulled back the curtain. The empty pool glimmered in the
afternoon sun. “No, but she said it looked like he didn’t even try to take them
out. Did he say anything to you when you saw him last?”

 
“No. I knew he was sick, that’s why I asked
him to stay. But I didn’t know how sick he was. He never said a word about
cactus. But it was his way to be tight lipped.” Mike moved over to the stereo
and turned it off. “What else did the coroner say?”

Mallory
bit her thumbnail for a second. “She asked if Skeeter was diabetic, as you
know. He had a high level of insulin in his bloodstream. I wonder what that
means, if he wasn’t a
diabetic?
Could he have been and
not know it?”

Mike
shrugged. “I don’t know.”

 
“Brent does. We could ask him.” At Mike’s
surprised look, she said, “Yes, he told me.”

 
“That’s unusual. He doesn’t like anyone to
know.” Mike smiled at her. “He must trust you.”

 
“I surprised him when he was taking insulin,”
she said. “He wasn’t happy about it.”

 
“Oh, I see.” His smile faded. “Brent is
awfully private about his affairs.”

 
“I didn’t mean to pry,” Mallory told him. “It
was just an accident that I saw him at all.”

 
“No harm done.”

 
“Do you think he’d answer some more questions
for me? If he’s that unwilling to share, then maybe I shouldn’t bother him.”
She stood undecided.

 
“There’s only one way to find out,” Mike said.
He moved toward the door. “Let’s find him and ask.”

~*~

Mike
held Mallory’s hand as they walked down to the small building near the river.
Brent was kneeling by one of the rafts. He looked up when they approached but
didn’t greet them.

 
“What’s going on?” Mike asked.

Brent
turned the raft. “Look. The bastards have been here, too.” The float had a
split all along the side. Every single one is the same.”

 
“Let me see.” With a sinking heart, Mike examined
the twenty or so rafts. They weren’t cheap, and not a single one was
repairable. He prayed insurance would cover the cost of replacing them. “This
is exactly what Ryan
Balderson
told me happened at
River Adventures.”

 
“Yeah.
The SRPL got
to him when he didn’t close down when the judge ordered him to,” Brent said. He
looked green.

 
“What
sicced
them on
us?” Mike ran a hand through his hair. “Ryan made them mad when he didn’t do
what he was supposed to, but we’ve done everything we were told.”

 
“Maybe it was Wendell Wallace’s murder. Maybe
they think one of us did it,” Brent suggested. He came to his feet. “I don’t
know.”

 
“What’s next?” Mike looked around. “How long
have you been here? Are the horses
secure
? What about
the tack?”

 
“I just got here a minute or so before you
did. I’m sure the horses are fine,” Brent said. “But I didn’t look at them yet,
and I didn’t think to search the tack room. I probably just missed the
bastards.”

 
“Maybe they were already there,” Mallory
reminded him.
“And stuck the cactus under Zorro’s saddle
blanket.
Maybe that wasn’t meant for me. Suppose they did it just for
vandalism’s sake and I was the unlucky person who picked up that particular
pad.”

 
“The cinch was cut, too.” Mike hated thinking
about her being bucked off. “Maybe it’s time to turn the tables and I need to
call Sheriff
Bodine
and talk to him about this.
First, I’m going to take a look at the rest of the tack and make sure there’s
no more surprises.”

 
“That’s a good idea,” Brent said. “By the way,
what did you do to piss off Di? I saw her stomp over to Shelby’s and they had a
big
pow
-wow out in the yard for awhile.”

 
“I kissed Mallory and Dianna saw.” Mike didn’t
need to explain further. Dianna had worn her heart on her sleeve; the others
knew how she felt.

 
“Oh man.” Brent shot a glance at Mallory.
“That had to burn.”

 
“Yeah,” Mike said. “I didn’t want to hurt
Dianna’s feelings. But
it’s
better she knows how I
feel now than keep hoping for something that isn’t going to happen.”

 
“You never led her on,” Brent agreed. “But you
love who you love.” He grinned at Mallory. “And you found a great girl.”

Mallory
smiled back. “Thanks.”

“That
reminds me, we actually came down here to ask you some questions about
insulin,” Mike said. “Can she talk to you while I call the sheriff?”

Brent
looked uncomfortable. “Yeah, uh, I guess so.”

Mike
took his cell phone from his pocket and dialed. A secretary told him
Bodine
was in the field and would call back later. He put
the phone back and listened to Mallory ask Brent a question.

 
“Why would someone have a high level of
insulin in their body if they weren’t diabetic?”

 
“They probably weren’t diagnosed,” he said
flatly.

Mallory
looked at Mike with despair. He jumped in. “Are you saying that someone
couldn’t live with a high amount of insulin in their system?”

 
“Depends on how high.”
Brent looked between them, but fixed his gaze on Mallory.
“Why
all the questions?
You checking
up on me?”

 
“No, I—”
           

 
“Was just worried,” Mike said smoothly. “I
told her you’re fine. That you know how to take care of yourself.”

 
“You bet I do.” Brent glared at her. “And I
thought you were going to keep things to yourself.”

 
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know that much
about diabetes or insulin and I just wanted to make sure I could help you if you
ever needed it.”

His
glare softened. “Okay. Don’t worry about me. I’m great. If that’s all the
questions, I’m going to go and make a report about this,” he waved at the
ruined rafts, “for insurance.”

 
“One more thing,” Mike said. “Where were you
when you saw Di and Shelby talking?”

He
narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

Mike
tried to look nonchalant. “I just wondered what was said.”

 
“I was standing at my kitchen window. I saw
them in Di’s front yard. They didn’t go inside, just stood talking. And no, I
didn’t hear their conversation.” He turned away. “I’m out of here.”

 
“Okay.” Mike watched him go.

Mallory
turned toward him. “What was that all about? Why didn’t you want him to know
about Skeeter?”

 
“Just thinking out loud.”

 
“I’m not following your train of thought,” she
admitted. “Where are you going with this?”

 
“I want to hear what the coroner says,” he
said. “I want to hear what she rules out. And I want to know if Skeeter
suddenly developed diabetes at his age and didn’t know it. That would explain
his illness, the reason he lapsed into a coma. I thought he had the flu. Maybe
it was something else.”

 
“It’s not your fault,” she said, laying a hand
on his arm. “You had no way to know.”

 
“I should’ve checked on him sooner. I knew he
wasn’t feeling well, but I thought he wanted to be left alone to rest. That was
the case when he showed up here any other time.”

 
“You did the right thing.” She squeezed his
arm.

 
“I’m not so sure.” He put his hand over hers.
“I’m sorry Skeeter died like that.”

 
“If he hadn’t been here, what would’ve
happened to him? He might’ve died all alone out in the desert.” She looked at
the mountains. “We might never have found him or
Nobody
.
It would have been terrible. The way he went, here where someone could watch
over him, was better.”

He
opened his mouth to reply when Sheriff
Bodine
pulled
up next to them and leaned out the window. “I hear you’ve had a little more
trouble. I was down at the site where we found our DB when the call came in. I
came up to find out what’s going on?”

 
“I’ve been vandalized,” Mike said. “Come see.”