Long Time Gone (9 page)

She could feel the hard ridge of arousal jutting into the joining of her thighs, making her want to move. His fingers dug into her buttocks, kneading, pushing her to ride the heat kindling between them.

She pressed her body tighter against his, rubbing slightly. Tension built in her belly, the heat spreading. She was inching closer and closer toward the edge. A small moan built up in her throat. She wanted him. However she could get him. Right now, right here.

In front of the Millsburger Building in downtown Konigsburg where anybody could walk by at any moment.

She lurched back, gasping for breath, wondering just where she’d left sensible, no-nonsense, exhausted Morgan Barrett, who sure as hell would have been smarter than this.

Erik gave himself a quick mental kick. He’d pushed her too far, too fast. He should have known better after that whole “loose” thing. She wasn’t ready for this.

Hell,
he
wasn’t ready for this!

One minute it had been a sweet, hot goodnight kiss, and the next he’d been ready to, well, climb on top of Morgan Barrett in the middle of downtown Konigsburg. Clearly, he’d been without a woman way too long.

Equally clearly, he couldn’t go around kissing Morgan in public anymore. Next time it had to be in a place where they could keep going, provided they were both ready to take it to the next level. And the next. And the next. Because the one thing he’d learned after two kisses was that neither of them was crazy about stopping.

“Are you okay?” he murmured, brushing the hair back from her forehead.

She still stared up at him, her eyes a little dazed, as if she were trying to figure out exactly how she’d ended up in the middle of downtown Konigsburg with bruised lips. Then she sucked in a breath. “Yeah. Okay. I think.”

“Should I apologize?”

She suddenly broke into a grin. “Was it that bad?”

“Only if you’re going to conk me with something if I don’t say I’m sorry.”

“I keep telling you I’m not the violent type.” Her grin widened. “I promise I’m not going to punch you or conk you with anything.”

“Not even if I kiss you again?” He felt another ripple of heat in his groin.

Her smile faded slightly. “Probably not. But I really don’t think you should. At least not on a downtown street where half of Konigsburg might walk by at any time.”

He rubbed his jaw. “Okay. I’m open to suggestions for where I
could
kiss you again.”

The corners of her mouth edged up. “I’ll give it some serious thought.”

“Good.” He leaned back against her SUV, more to keep her from getting in and driving off than anything else. “When can we get together and discuss it?”

Her gaze was suddenly wary. “I could make you dinner sometime. If you’re free, that is.”

He fought to keep from grinning. He had a feeling she might move him away from her SUV bodily if he did. “I’m free. Believe me.”

Or anyway, I’m easy.

“Tomorrow night?” She smiled again, faintly.

“Sure…” Erik started. Then he remembered. “Hell, the bikers.”

Morgan groaned. “Oh, god! They’ll start coming into town tomorrow afternoon and they won’t leave until Sunday. Neither of us is going to have a spare minute tomorrow.”

“And I’ll be on duty all the time they’re here.” He sighed, stepping aside from the SUV. “Rain check?”

“Definitely.” She opened the door and climbed in. “Believe me, after the bikers, we’ll both need something.”

He already needed something, preferably within the next five minutes. But he knew a lost cause when he saw it. “See you in the Dew Drop?”

She gave him a dry smile. “Yep.” She pulled the door closed.

Erik stood watching the taillights of her SUV disappear down the road to Cedar Creek. He considered how much he’d prefer having dinner with Morgan Barrett to riding herd on a bunch of yuppie bikers. Three hundred of them. With no one enthusiastic about the prospect except their sleazeball of a mayor.

Eventually, he was going to have to do something about Hilton Pittman, even if it did get him in trouble with the city council. It might almost be worth it.

Chapter Eight

It took Erik significantly longer to fall asleep that night than it did normally. Morgan Barrett had definitely gotten under his skin—or between his sheets in this case. She didn’t exactly dance on the ceiling, but he kept seeing her deep brown eyes whenever he began to drift off, along with the spray of freckles across her nose and the way her lips seemed to turn up naturally at the ends. He finally drifted off to dream about Disneyfied deer tripping through grape-laden vineyards.

BRRRRRWAAAAAPPPPPP!!!!

The sound brought him half off the bed before he’d even opened his eyes. Erik stumbled toward the living room window that faced Main, belatedly grabbing some underwear before pulling back the curtain. The sound from the street intensified—he could almost feel the vibration through the floor. He peered down at the four-lane expanse of Main Street, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

A quartet of motorcycles roared down the street, their throttles wide open. Chrome gleamed on the front forks, the engines, the exhaust system. The bikes seemed to shimmer in the sunlight. Or maybe it was just the vibration that made everything seem to shake.

Erik sighed and stumbled back to grab his uniform. He had a feeling he had a long weekend ahead of him.

Ham Linklatter was the only one at the station when he walked in. Maybe that was why Ham was sitting at Helen’s desk at the front counter instead of his own in the main room. If Helen had been there, Ham would have been a dead man.

Linklatter gave him his usual baleful glance, doubly baleful today since it looked like Ham had come straight from the shower. His lank hair was plastered across his skull like pond scum.

“About time somebody else got here,” he grumbled.

Erik stared at him for a count of three, watching Ham’s face turn the usual unpleasant shade of pink, then he glanced at the clock. “I’m on duty in twenty minutes. Figured I’d get here early.”

He heard the door open and close behind him, then watched Ham’s face change from unpleasant pink to pale green.

“Linklatter,” Helen’s voice rumbled from the doorway, “what the hell are you doing sitting at my desk?”

Ham gathered a stack of papers from the desktop and started to slink toward his desk at the back of the room. Helen placed herself squarely in his path, resting fists the size of softballs on her broad hips. She pointed at the papers. “What are those?”

“They’re mine,” he whined. “I’m just taking them back to my desk.”

She extended her hand in front of Ham’s nose. After a moment, he placed the stack of papers on her flattened palm.

“Don’t be messing with my stuff, Ham.” Her voice sounded like an underground volcano getting ready to erupt.

Ham moved swiftly to his own desk.

Nando walked in, yawning. “You hear the arrival of The Mild Ones?”

“Oh yeah. Unfortunately, the noise ordinance doesn’t kick in until sundown.”

“By then they’ll all be drinking at the Silver Spur or the Faro. So what’s the plan?”

Erik hung his hat on the rack at the door. “I talked to DPS. They’ll be keeping an eye on FM 1822 from here to Oltdorf.” Oltdorf was a wide spot in the road about eighteen miles from Konigsburg. The highway that went there was a series of curves through picturesque Hill Country scenery, some posted at twenty-five.

Nando nodded. “Okay, sounds good. What else is going on?”

“I called Friesenhahn.” And of course that had been one swell conversation—only the second week Erik had been in office and already he needed help from the sheriff. “He’s sending over a couple of deputies to help with patrol this afternoon. And we can transfer prisoners to the county lockup if we fill up here.”

Ham scowled. “Prisoners? We never had no biker prisoners in the jail when Brody was in charge.”

Erik, Nando and Helen all turned to stare at him. Ham ducked his head and pretended to read the memos on his desk.

Erik nodded at Nando. “Make sure you take a run by the campground when you do your patrol. And keep an eye on the Silver Spur and the Faro. Anyplace else they’re likely to be drinking?”

“Rustler’s Roost,” Helen rumbled, naming a roadhouse a few miles west of town.

“That’s outside the city limits. Friesenhahn’s problem.”

Nando nodded. “Not too many in town yet. More tonight. What about…”

The rest of his question was drowned out by a vibrating roar from the parking lot, followed by a series of explosive
pop
s. Moments later, a man who could only be the bike’s owner stepped in the door.

He was encased in black leather from shoulder to heel. His jacket was covered with shiny zippers. Erik wondered briefly if he’d had them chromed along with his bike. He wore a crisp black bandana knotted around his head and black aviator sunglasses that probably cost more than Erik’s entire uniform, including badge. Either he’d spent his childhood watching motorcycle movies, or he was one of the bigger idiots Erik had yet encountered in Texas, which was saying something.

The biker pulled off his sunglasses with a practiced devil-may-care swipe, smiling with teeth that gleamed almost as brightly as his zippers.

“Morning, gents, how’s it hanging? Great to be back in Konigsburg.”

Beside him, Erik felt Helen stiffen. Apparently, the biker hadn’t realized not everybody in the group was a gent. Always a dangerous mistake. “Morning. What can we do for you?”

“I’m here to see the chief.” The man glanced around the room, his eyes lighting on Ham. “Hey there, Officer, good to see you again. Remember me? Mel Hefner?”

Ham spread his lips in a thin imitation of a smile, carefully not looking at Erik.

Mel Hefner tucked one bow of his sunglasses into the top zippered pocket on his jacket. “Where’s Chief Brody?”

The deafening silence that followed that question finally seemed to dim Hefner’s smile slightly. He glanced from face to face.

Erik kept his voice bland. “I’m Chief Toleffson. What can I do for you?”

Hefner’s forehead furrowed. “Brody retired?”

The details of Brody’s disappearance from Konigsburg after his unsuccessful attempt to murder Docia and the subsequent search for him by the Rangers had been published in every major newspaper in the state, as well as a national news service. Erik upped his assessment of Hefner’s idiot status. “Something like that. Now, what can I do for you?”

Hefner’s smile blossomed again. Wonder Dentist would probably be green with envy at his incisor caps. “Just wanted to work out the details for the weekend. Most of the TBA are due in tonight.”

Erik sighed. He knew he had to ask. “TBA?”

“Our group—the Texas Bikers Alliance. Of course, I like to think of them as Mel’s Angels, seeing as how I’m the president.” Hefner looked inordinately pleased with himself.

Behind him, Nando succumbed to a coughing fit.

Erik carefully avoided looking at Helen. He had a feeling he’d lose it totally if he did. “So what details do you need to set up with us?”

Hefner glanced around the room again, looking slightly less sunny. “Maybe we could talk about that in private.”

Erik frowned. All his instincts were immediately on high alert. “We can use my office.” He jerked his head at Nando, who fell in step behind him.

In the office, Hefner gave the two of them a doubtful look. He swallowed quickly, then resumed his dazzling smile, settling into the chair across from Erik’s desk. “I assume the arrangement we had with Chief Brody still stands even though the chief has retired.”

Behind Hefner, Nando moved slightly, leaning one shoulder against the wall so that he had a better view of Hefner’s face.

Erik kept his own face expressionless. “What arrangement was that?”

Hefner moved his shoulders against the back of his chair, restlessly. “The…ah…arrangement. About the rally visitors.”

Erik took a careful breath. Grabbing Hefner by the throat probably wouldn’t speed things up, satisfying though it might be on other counts. “Mr. Hefner, this is the first rally I’ve seen. What arrangement about the visitors are you referring to?”

“Well…” Hefner’s smile was definitely beginning to wobble around the edges. “Chief Brody arranged for us to sort of, you know, pay our fines in advance. So that we wouldn’t have to go through the whole posting-bail-and-returning-for-trial thing.”

Erik sat very still, watching Hefner sweat and trying to decide if he was actually that stupid. Maybe he should just give him the benefit of the doubt and assume that he was. “So you paid the fines in advance. Did Chief Brody return the money for people who didn’t do anything that warranted a fine during the weekend?”

Hefner was definitely squirming now. “Well, no, not exactly. I mean we agreed anything left over in the end would be donated to the Konigsburg Police Benefit Fund. Sort of our thank-you gift to the town for being so hospitable and all.”

“And how much did this payment amount to?” Erik felt the beginning of a headache somewhere behind his eyes.

Hefner exhaled quickly. “Oh, it varied. Usually around a hundred dollars a person. I mean the fines for the kind of thing our members might get picked up for aren’t all that big, right? You know, jaywalking, stuff like that.”

“A hundred dollars a person?” Erik kept his voice bland.

“That’s what it came to.” Hefner nodded vigorously. “We really appreciated the consideration too.”

Nando whistled softly.

Erik leaned back in his chair and studied the other man for a long moment. “Okay, Mr. Hefner, you’ve just basically admitted to bribing a public official. And since you were trying to continue the deal with me, that’s another count of attempted bribery. Potentially, your weekend just got a lot shorter.”

Hefner’s mouth moved soundlessly, like a beached trout. His eyes were suddenly the size of golf balls. “But…but…Chief Brody was the one to suggest this. He said it was a convenience he offered for groups like ours, to keep us from being hassled. He said it was perfectly legal.”

Erik leaned forward, propping his elbows on his desk. “Chief Brody is wanted for assault, attempted murder and burglary, among other charges. He’s currently unavailable, seeing as how he’s a fugitive. I wouldn’t appeal to his reading of the law if I were you.”

Hefner sank down in his chair like a deflated balloon version of himself. For a moment, Erik almost felt sorry for him. On the other hand, stupidity was frequently its own reward. He sat back in his chair, switching into his Voice of Authority mode.

“Here’s the deal, Mr. Hefner. I want you to go back to your group now. Tell them the town noise ordinance is in effect from sundown to sunrise. Tell them officers will be picking up anybody guilty of public drunkenness and tossing them in the county lockup. Tell them the Highway Patrol will be watching for speeders on the county roads. In other words, tell them to behave themselves. If nothing nasty happens this weekend, I’ll overlook what just transpired here. If anything goes down, I’ll throw the book at you. Got it?”

Hefner took a deep breath. His zippers trembled. “Yes, sir. That sounds quite reasonable.”

“Good enough.” Erik let one corner of his mouth inch up. “You have a nice day, now.”

He spent the rest of the morning patrolling the streets, watching yuppies pretending to be outlaws on bikes that were almost too much for them to handle.

Unlike Hefner’s, Erik’s bike back in Davenport had been over five years old and looked pretty routine. It lacked chrome. It could, however, move like a son of a bitch thanks to the time he’d spent working on it. As he turned the cruiser up West Street, he profoundly wished he still had his bike and could use it now, rather than driving the standard piece-of-crap cruiser that the city of Konigsburg provided to its law enforcement officers. On the bike, he could have taken any of these hotshots. In the cruiser, it was a toss-up.

Every time he thought about the conversation with Hefner, he wondered what the town would have faced if Linklatter had gotten the chief’s job. Ham would probably have accepted those “pre-paid” fines from Hefner without a qualm, although he might have been a little confused when he found out there was no Konigsburg Police Benefit Fund. Erik figured the only Konigsburg policeman who’d benefitted from Hefner and the boys had been Brody.

After a couple of hours of watching bikers barrel around town while trying to avoid permanent hearing damage, Erik turned the cruiser toward the suburbs, such as they were. He told himself he was heading for Cedar Creek only to make sure the bikers weren’t making trouble at the winery.

He definitely wasn’t going there to check on Morgan, who definitely—most probably—didn’t need his help.

The winery was surrounded by chrome-plated monsters taking up most of the parking spaces. The seats around the patio tables were occupied by men and women in leathers and vests and ponytails. Overall, the ponytails looked better on the women—of course, so did the vests. Esteban Avrogado dozed at a corner table. He opened one eye and raised a hand in salutation as Erik walked by.

Skeeter and Fred moved hopefully among the tables, tails wagging and tongues lolling. Occasionally someone took pity on them and tossed a cracker.

Erik strolled toward the tasting room, keeping his eyes peeled for Morgan and trouble, in about equal measure. In the doorway he paused.

Morgan stood behind the tasting room bar, staring fixedly at a far corner of the room. Three men in leathers sat on the barstools in front of her. It seemed to Erik that their gazes were all focused on her breasts. Maybe it seemed that way to Morgan, too, judging from the stiffness in her shoulders.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” one of the leathers cajoled, “just one glass. We’ll pay for it. Pick your favorite so we’ll know what’s fit to drink.”

Morgan’s voice was sharp. “I’m sorry, sir. I’m not allowed to drink when I’m pouring. State regulations.”

“Well, it’s just us here,” another man said. “Who’s going to know? Besides, we want to buy you a drink.”

Erik walked farther into the room. Hefner wasn’t currently taking up a jail cell. There was plenty of room there for three obnoxious yuppie bikers. Halfway to the bar, he caught Morgan’s eye.

She shook her head slightly and he stopped.