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Heather woke to a strange sound near her ear. She kept her eyes closed and willed herself to remain still while she identified the threat. Snoring she realized, feeling silly. A ripple of satisfaction rolled through her and she snuggled closer to Dale’s warm body.
But she couldn’t get back to sleep. Carefully, she slipped from the bed, stifling a groan when she spotted the clock. Here was the downside of being an incurable early riser. Might as well do something useful.
As the sun peeked over the horizon, Heather closed the curtains over the balcony so Dale could sleep in. Wrapping herself in one of the hotel robes, she searched the room by the light of her cell phone. Finding her bag, she removed her tablet and her camera, setting up on the table in the front room. She checked the messages on her phone while the other devices warmed up and started connecting.
Thank God she’d turned off her phone. Her brother had sent her countless messages in the past few hours, demanding answers she wasn’t ready to give. She glanced back toward the bedroom, knowing the most honest answers would push her brother into protective mode. Which was only one more reason not to give him any.
She did send the text message about the case, then decided to ignore further personal inquiries. She scrolled further through her notifications, wincing when she saw the text message from her mother.
It was the one message she answered, assuring her mother she was fine and would tell her the entire romantic story when she and Dale were home from their weekend.
She sighed at the reminder that whatever happened between her and Dale was temporary. Which was a shame, because they had some serious chemistry between the sheets… and everywhere else, if only he was open to it.
Not now, she thought, turning to the task of reviewing pictures, putting those with clear faces in one folder and discarding other, less helpful shots into a secondary folder. Despite her best efforts, her mind meandered through everything she’d experienced since Friday morning and it all came down to the man snoring quietly in the bedroom.
Dale’s surprising acting ability when he’d asked her out. The compassion he’d shown at the shelter and later after the dogfights. His unexpected defense of her. The comfort. His stunning lovemaking.
She wandered to the bedroom door and just stared at him for a moment. Why did this have to be temporary? He shifted in the bed, the covers sliding away and revealing his wounded leg. She knew it bothered him and yet she’d never consider it a deficit.
His leg was stronger than he realized, in her opinion. If the scar tissue went deep, the lack of feeling might be giving him the impression of weakness. It had happened to her, on a smaller scale, as her hand healed and there had been more than a little concern about permanent nerve damage. For years she’d had to tell herself she could hold onto objects when she couldn’t feel them completely.
Dale’s leg might have troubled him out in the park last night but he hadn’t let it stop him from getting the job done. How could she help him see that? Was it even her place to try?
From her point of view, the leg was in perfect working order. She fanned herself a little, recalling the feel of his body loving hers. She considered his scar a stamp of his courage and determination, knowing he would scoff at the idea.
Of course, she wasn’t the one living with it. Making a mental note to tell him about the sensations she’d experienced with her hand, she returned to the photos.
She had clean shots of the men who’d set up the rings and unloaded the dogs. The next series, about two dozen shots of dogs, startled her. She hadn’t remembered taking so many, but she zoomed in and brightened shadows for a better look at any identifying marks on each animal.
While they’d been in the perfect place to get faces, they hadn’t chosen a great position to record license plates. A fact she regretted now. Well, what they had would have to be good enough.
She soon had faces sorted further by men and women, those who’d arrived together, and Lester’s crew. The shots of the fights made her stomach roll, but she collected them, knowing she wouldn’t have survived any of this without the buffer of her camera and the man who’d taken her allegations seriously.
“Come up with anything?”
Startled, she looked up at the sound of his gravelly voice, heavy with sleep. She blinked rapidly to focus on him rather than the glare of the computer screen.
“I’m making progress, but I can’t be sure it helps.”
He sat up on the edge of the bed, stretching his arms over his head before leaning forward to rest elbows on knees. “I’m sure it helps.”
He seemed far too confident in her ability and too comfortable in the moment. Her lingering satisfaction faded now that they faced each other for the purpose of the mission again. “You haven’t even seen any pictures. Maybe I left the lens cap on.”
“Not your style.”
Now he knew her “style”. Had they slipped into an alternate reality? The sex had certainly been earth-shattering, but still…
“What’s wrong?”
“Not a thing,” she replied, watching him leave the bed and walk to the bathroom. He appeared oblivious to the way his strong and cut body affected her. Heat flooded her body in response to the priceless view. However things went from here, it was a vision she intended to remember forever.
Shaking her head, she resumed her work. She’d reached the series of pictures she’d taken after Dale shot out the tire of the last car to arrive at the fights.
She sucked in a breath, saved the closeup, and with shaking legs backed away from the table.
In the chaos that followed, Bingham had emerged a half step ahead of Lester. The leader of the pack had been there after all. Dale would be thrilled. She opened the next photos and her stomach dropped. Following Lester was another man holding two leashes with aggressive, alert Dobermans at the other end. Those could very well be the dogs who’d killed Terry.
Heather clapped a hand to her mouth and paced to the balcony doors, unable to escape the fear chasing her. It looked like Bingham was in just as deep as Dale suspected. It wasn’t her job to figure out the next step, but still she ran through the likely options.
