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She shook her head. “Joe wouldn’t shoot Jaime,” she said softly. “Neither of those boys would have ever hurt each other, Jonesy, let alone anyone else. ”
“If there’s something more involved, then I have no doubt Sheriff Mayes will find it, girl,” he grumbled, his voice becoming more fierce. “Come on, Rogue. He’ll be here any minute. Pull yourself out of this or you’re gonna hate yourself in the morning. You know how you always end up kicking yourself whenever you let Mayes see you weak. ”
She was always weak around Zeke. It was a fact of life. Like taxes and breathing.
“Go tend the bar, Jonesy. ” She sighed. “I’ll be fine. ”
Jonesy stared at her for long, silent moments. Rogue could feel his worry and his anger.
Jonesy always worried about her, and it always managed to piss him off. And tonight after he closed up, he’d probably call her father, and her parents would worry then, too.
If she wasn’t careful, her father would end up on her doorstep and then talk about stirring up some stink. The closest he’d come to Somerset since leaving it so long ago was Louisville. She always met him there. God help her if he ever actually came here.
Jonesy rose to his feet. His heavy hand gripped her shoulder for a second in a tender hold before he heaved out a hard breath and moved through the crowd, back to his bar.
Zeke was coming, and she was weak. He would be here soon, and she felt lost and alone and uncertain. She hated feeling that way; she avoided him at all costs when she felt that way, because she wanted nothing more than to curl against his broad chest and make all the darkness that seemed to surround her go away.
As though he could do that.
She finished the whisky in the glass, capped the bottle, and motioned to the waitress to take it away before rising to her feet.
Four-inch heels were like a second skin to her feet. Vivid red to match the scalloped lace edges of the scarlet camisole she wore beneath her black sleeveless leather vest. It was paired with a short leather skirt that showed off her legs and flashed her upper thighs.
Flipping back the riotous red gold curls that flowed over her shoulder, she drew in a hard breath and made her way across the bar to the door that led back to the kitchens and the steps to her upstairs apartment.
She wasn’t facing Zeke while the customers of the Bar watched on. Jonesy would direct him upstairs.
Would he come in uniform, she wondered? Or in those thigh-hugging jeans and loose shirts that always made her mouth water? She wanted to strip him so damned badly she could barely breathe for the need when he was out of uniform.
She didn’t want to even consider what he did to her when he was in uniform. She tried to ignore the wicked little urges she had then, because it was a hell of a lot worse than without the uniform.
Maybe it had something to do with those handcuffs hanging on the side of his belt, she thought mockingly as she made her way up the stairs to her apartment. Yeah, had to be those handcuffs. She had some interesting fantasies where those were concerned.
Unlocking her apartment, she pushed it open and stepped inside. The lights were on.
She left them on because she didn’t like the dark. She and her friend Janey Mackay were a lot alike in that regard. The dark was a lonely place to be for Rogue.
The large, open living room and kitchen greeted her. Spotlessly clean, because she really didn’t spend much time in her so-called home. The dark brown leather couch and chairs were comfortable; the scarred coffee table was an antique she hadn’t had time to refinish. Or perhaps just hadn’t made time. There was something about those scars of time on it that appealed to her.
The double doors into her bedroom were open, a low light on her bed stand shining into the room. And it was quiet. So quiet.
Maybe she needed a cat. A cat would at least meow at her when she came in, or so Janey had assured her.
Shaking her head, she paced over to the tall, wide windows and drew a curtain back enough to stare into the parking lot below. Just in time to watch Zeke Mayes pull into the lot in the full-sized farm pickup he drove when he wasn’t on duty.
Hell. He was going to be in civilian clothes.
She watched closely as he parked, opened the door, and stepped out beneath one of the bright ligh
ts shining overhead. Her mouth watered.
A long-sleeved white button-up shirt was tucked into snug jeans. She thought he might be wearing boots. There was the glint of his badge on the pocket of his jeans. He wore it like that sometimes, and she thought it was the sexiest damned thing she had ever seen.
She wondered where his handcuffs were.
Her fingers clenched on the material of the curtains as she felt herself heat at the sight of him. She might be a virgin, but she knew all the signs of arousal and a night that was most likely going to involve toys of some sort.
Her clit was swollen, the bare folds of her sex felt flushed and damp. Her nipples were peaking beneath the camisole and vest, and she could feel that nervous little flutter attacking her stomach and thighs. Just the sight of him was enough to sensitize her body.
