Page 60 of The Last One You Loved
“I think that’s all we have to say, don’t you?” he said calmly. “Better if you leave before someone decides to scratch an itch and accidentally pulls a trigger.”
I turned on my heel and walked out the door with Bruce and Scully inching out behind me.
The rain had stopped, but the ground was a muddy mess. We all slogged our way back to the SUV and four-wheeled it down the mountain to where the rest of our vehicles sat. Our men took off, leaving Scully and me looking out at the trees and the clouds that were hanging low over the hilltops, making the scene seem like something from a fantasy novel.
“You believe him?” Scully asked. “About her not having anything on them?”
“They’re protecting her for a reason,” I said. “That line about honoring Trap was bullshit, but I’ll make a call, see if I can scrounge up Trap’s location just to make sure he isn’t six-feet under somewhere.”
Scully nodded and turned the ignition back on.
“Thanks for having my back as always, Scully,” I said.
“Anytime, Hatley.” He winked and then drove off.
I climbed into my F-150 and pointed it down the windy road to the station with my mood growing from bad to worse.
Amy was at the door as I walked in with a cup of coffee she handed me. She had short white hair, skin so pale it was almost see-through, and gray eyes that could sparkle with humor or ice over with frost depending on the situation. She’d been around the station for almost as long as I could remember and had stuck out the transition between me and Sheriff Haskett even though she threatened to retire every other day.
“Thanks,” I grumbled. “I guess you already heard we came up short.”
She nodded. “That woman doesn’t know how to stay away though. You’ll get her.”
Which only made my foul mood grow because there was a part of me that still didn’t want to find her. A part hoping she’d disappear in a way Chainsaw might appreciate.
“Can you get the Knox County Parole Office on the line?” I asked her. “I need them to do a check-in, preferably a home visit, with Trapper Lloyd. Tell them I have reason to believe he’s either skipped town or someone’s put a bullet in him.”
I started toward my office, but she halted me.
“Change your shoes, Sheriff. I don’t need mud all over my station,” she scolded.
I looked down at the trail I’d already left and bit back an expletive. I yanked off my boots and headed for my office where I kept a full change of clothes. I closed the door, twisted the blinds shut, and stripped down to my boxer briefs, tossing the wet, dirt-spattered clothes onto a wooden chair in the corner with disgust. I pulled the closet open and snatched a pair of pants off a hanger just as the door rattled open. I flipped around, ready to bite someone’s head off, but found my hands stalling as McKenna strode in.
Her eyes went wide, a little gasp escaping, before she slowly took me in from head to toe. My body reacted to the perusal by instantly going on full alert. I knew the moment she saw the semi-hard-on, because her cheeks turned pink, and she glanced away.
She cleared her throat. “Uh. Sorry. Um. What are you doing?”
Her eyes whipped back to mine, locking on my face as if she were afraid of looking anywhere else.
“Changing,” I growled, my mood not improving as pent-up desire leaped back to life.
Amy bustled in, head down, staring at a paper in her hand. “Trap’s parole officer said he’d call back as soon as he had eyes on him.” When she glanced up, her gaze went from me to McKenna’s pink face, and instead of being embarrassed at my half-dressed state, a twinkle appeared in her eyes. “Sorry to interrupt,” she said, laughing.
McKenna let out a garbled, choked noise, and it did nothing to help my dick’s reaction to her or the frustration I was ready to take out on anyone. Anything. But especially her.
“I’ll just leave you to it,” Amy said, walking out and shutting the door behind her with a loud click before saying loudly, “The sheriff is to be left alone. Anyone going near his door will answer to me.”
I rolled my eyes, lips twitching for the first time all morning. When I looked back at McKenna, her cheeks had gone from pink to fiery red. “Jesus, Mads, what are you doing half-naked in your office?”
I hadn’t heard her call me Mads in so long I’d almost forgotten what it sounded like. The way the D and the S turned into a whispery breath on her lips was different from how anyone else said it, and it did nothing for the state of my body or my heart.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I demanded, irritation dripping from me as I stepped into my pants. I pulled them up while she watched, and when she swallowed hard, my dick jumped again. I didn’t even bother buttoning as I strode toward her.
I was in a bad mood from the entire fucking clusterfuck at The Nest. I was in a bad mood from her being in Willow Creek, making me feel sorry for her, and stirring up old feelings with our earth-shattering kiss the night before. I was pissed I’d jerked off all alone in my bed last night, like I had hundreds of times before, to images of McKenna. Except, these had been new images instead of decades-old ones.
She backed up, hitting the file cabinet, eyes going around the room wildly as she tried to keep them from landing on me in my half-dressed state, and I took a perverse pleasure in making her uncomfortable—because damn if she didn’t do the same to me.
“I…” she trailed off as I stepped even closer, my bare chest grazing breasts barely hiding behind her tight sweater. “Can you finish dressing so we can talk?”
