Сандра Браун - Thick as Thieves

After dressing, she followed the aroma of coffee into the kitchen, where Ledge was seated at the table, steaming mug at hand, the pages of the investigation reports spread out in front of him. His head was down, fingers pushed up into his hair, his forehead resting in his palm.

“What are you studying so intently?”

He raised his head and looked at her. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes drew her toward him. When she was still steps away, he reached for her, pulled her between his legs, wrapped his arms around her, and pressed his face into her middle just below her breasts. Her fingers replaced his in the thick tangle of his hair. She bent her head over his. For a time they just held each other.

When he released her from the hug, he tipped his head back to look into her face. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“How was your night?”

She shrugged, faked a yawned. “It was okay, I guess.”

He smiled, but there was a restraint in his demeanor that she’d sensed the moment she’d entered the room.

“Coffee’s still fresh,” he said.

“I believe I’ll have some. You want more?”

“More of you, yes.”

Her tummy levitated like an untethered balloon.

But his sexy, gravelly tone, his suggestive squint, were short-lived. The reserve, which she couldn’t account for, reappeared. “I don’t know how you take your coffee,” he said. “I’ve got real sugar and milk.”

“That will do.”

“Want breakfast?”

“Not just yet.”

She went over to the counter and filled the coffee mug he had set out for her, then carried it to the fridge and poured a dollop of milk straight from the carton.

As she turned around, she saw through the wide window a car pulling in behind Ledge’s pickup. Instantly she recognized the whir of the motor. She set her full mug of coffee on the counter. “Ledge?”

“Hmm?”

“Rusty’s here.”

He raised his head from the material he’d gone back to reading. “What?”

She nodded toward the window as she walked toward it. Ledge left the table and joined her there. At some point during the night, the rain had stopped, but it had left puddles in the yard. Rusty navigated around them as he made his way to the back door.

She and Ledge looked at each other with wariness, then he went to the door and had it pulled open before Rusty could knock. Arden moved up beside Ledge. It surprised her that he didn’t issue Rusty a challenge, but she supposed his hostile and territorial bearing spoke for him.

Rusty gave them a smirking grin. “Morning, you two.”

“What are you doing here? What do you want?”

“I want to be invited in, Ledge. Coffee smells good.” Another smirk. “Unless I’m interrupting.”

Ledge didn’t extend any kind of invitation, just stood there, as impassable as a concrete wall.

“Ah, well,” Rusty sighed. “Can’t say as I’m surprised by your lack of manners. No one expects you to have any. Breeding tells, you know.”

“Go. Away.” Ledge made the two words sound all the more menacing by how softly he spoke them. “Don’t ever come to my house again.”

Rusty seemed unfazed. “What mischief are you up to out here, Ledge, that you would rather the district attorney not know about? I mean, besides screwing her.” He hitched his chin toward Arden.

She took a lunging step toward him, but Ledge put out a hand to hold her back. “Don’t buy into it.”

“You’re despicable,” she said to Rusty.

“Me? I’m despicable? I’m not the guy cheating on his girlfriend. Speaking of whom, Crystal told me that both of y’all have been asking her all sorts of interesting questions about times gone by.”

Arden felt Ledge tense. “When did you talk to Crystal?”

“Did I fail to mention that? If I’d been invited in for coffee, I would’ve—”

“When did you talk to Crystal?”

“I dropped by on her this morning before coming here.” He leaned toward Ledge and said in an undertone, “One guy to another, just so you’re braced for it, she suspects…” He wagged his index finger between Ledge and Arden.

“You’re lying,” Ledge said. “If you did see Crystal this morning, she didn’t divulge anything to you.”

“No? Then maybe it wasn’t her who told me.” He scratched his temple. “But I could have sworn—”

Ledge reached for the door and went to slam it in Rusty’s face, but Rusty stuck out his foot and caught it with the steel toe of his cowboy boot. He pushed the door back open with such impetus, it banged against the kitchen wall.

Ledge bristled. The two faced off across the threshold, silently daring each other to make the first move. Arden held her breath.

Rusty was the first to capitulate. He relaxed his stance. “The point is,” he said, stressing the words, “it’s been brought to my attention that you two have grown real curious about the Welch’s store burglary and all the bizarre goings-on that took place afterward.

“Now, as the top law officer of the county, I just wondered how come y’all are showing such avid interest. Especially you,” he said, looking directly at Ledge. “Makes me question the smarts you’re reputed to have. Trips to the courthouse, getting copies of investigation reports, all that. It’s peculiar behavior, to say the least. Especially when you obviously have other, more pleasurable pastimes you could be engaging in.”

Neither of them said anything.

“Nothing? No explanation for the amateur sleuthing?” His eyes sawed back and forth between them, landing on Arden. “Does your big sis know about this recent hobby of yours?”

“My father’s disappearance was a significant event in my life. I never got closure. Lisa understands that.”

“Does she? Well, not me. I don’t see that any good can come from dredging up crimes with mothballs on them. That is unless the culprit’s kin turned up with the money he took.” He gave Arden a cold and calculating look. “In fact, the amateur detective work could backfire and prove damaging to a person’s health.”

He paused to let all that sink in, before adding in a lower voice, “If I were you two, I’d leave well enough alone.”

“Is that what you came to say?” Ledge asked.

Rusty nodded. “Pretty much.”

“Well, now that you’ve said it, get off my property.”

Rusty mimed doffing a hat, turned and took several steps, then snapped his fingers and came back around. “Almost forgot. I heard y’all nearly got mauled by some vicious dogs last night. Right outside Crystal’s house. Close call. You were damned lucky to have escaped them.”

Again, neither of them rose to the bait.

“In light of that attack,” Rusty continued, “how’d you greet the news this morning?”

A sense of foreboding spiraled through Arden, but it was Ledge who said, “What news?”

“About Dwayne Hawkins. You remember. That piece of white trash I sent up for dogfighting? He was found dead this morning, slumped over the steering wheel of his pickup. Had a packed bag beside him on the seat. Looked like he was trying to make a quick getaway from that dump he lived in.”

Arden leaned closer to Ledge. He shifted his shoulder to overlap hers.

Rusty continued. “Last night somebody tipped a group of animal rights advocates to Dwayne’s maltreatment of his dogs. They descended en masse on his property at dawn. Got the shock of their lives. Dwayne had met with a bad end, like his sort usually do.”

Arden asked hoarsely, “How did he die?”

“Choke collar.”

She took a swift breath.

Rusty flashed a grin. “I know. Terrible, right? It was one of those with spikes, the kind trainers use to turn their dogs into mean sons of bitches.” He laughed at his play on words.