Page 120 of Swept for Forever
Dom was already at my side, his hand on my lower back as he guided me toward the exit. I leaned into him, needing his strength, needing him.
“Miss Jones.”
The voice came from behind us. I stiffened, already knowing who it was.
White Lightning Whitaker.
“Whitaker, back off,” Boone said, his tone even. “Not right now.”
Whitaker smirked. “What’s wrong, Old Hound? Getting too sentimental to slap cuffs on a pretty face?”
Boone ignored him.
I turned, meeting Whitaker’s gaze and biting back the exhaustion pressing in on me, but Dom kept pushing me forward. His grip on my waist was firm, but his body had gone rigid.
I kept walking, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw Whitaker shift, settling against the doorframe. His smirk widened.
“You’re not off the hook, Miss Jones.” His tone was almost amused. “Our victim remembers you clear as day. He called you a liar with a pretty mouth.”
Dom stopped so fast that I nearly stumbled.
A second later, he turned. No hesitation, no words. Just pure, barely leashed fury.
Boone moved, stepping in before things got messy. His hand landed hard against Dom’s chest, his voice low but edged with warning. “Not worth it.”
Dom’s jaw flexed, his breathing slow but dangerous.
I reached for his arm, my fingers brushing the hard muscle beneath his shirt. “Come on, Dom. Let’s go home.”
His head tilted slightly, just enough for our eyes to meet. I saw the anger there, hot, crackling, and ready to burn. But I also saw something else. Me.
I needed him more than I needed him to fight.
Dom exhaled through his nose, dragging a hand down his face before pulling me close. He pressed a kiss to my temple. “I’m sorry, Otter,” he murmured.
I shook my head, wrapping my arms around him. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
Whitaker was still watching, still smirking, but I didn’t care. I let Dom lead me out of the station, keeping me close.
We walked out together. I felt like we were walking toward something good, even though Stiff-Neck still had another day to breathe free.
Besides, we weren’t alone anymore. Boone was truly on our side.
32
DOM
We were back at square one.
Boone was working his ass off, no doubt about that. But it wasn’t enough. They had questioned the loner, then let him go.
“The crime lab in Missoula is backed up,” I told Autumn, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “It could take weeks for facial recognition. And digital composite only gets you so far.”
“So what? You find a real forensic artist?” she asked.
“The sheriff’s office can’t swing that. Even Missoula PD might not have anyone on-site. I need Susan Nolan.”
Autumn tilted her head. “Who’s Susan Nolan?” Something sly uncoiled in her gaze. “And why has your face gone all blushy?”
