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“You’re just now bringing this to me?”
Randon recognized the red plaid shirt on top and saw a portion of the Bold and Free member patch on a familiar leather jacket. He reached for the bag. “May I?”
“Great. Now we have an exhibitionist running around town without his pants. Just terrific.” The sheriff handed over the clothing and returned to his team of investigators. “Somebody go knock on Sleeping Beauty’s door and get her out here! Detective Keen could snore through a hurricane.”
Randon’s entire body went rigid. How the fuck would he know that?
“I know what you’re thinking,” Kurt said, smirking. “Don’t even go there. The gal had a life before you rode into town. I’m sure it was a quite dull one in comparison to all this, but she had a life befor
e you.”
Randon ignored Kurt and watched a few female officers approach Pageant’s home. “I should probably—”
“Don’t even think about it,” Kurt interrupted him. “There’s too much speculation already.”
“Why?” Randon didn’t think he’d compromised himself or Pageant by showing too much interest in public.
“Why do you think? Between the drool on your chin and the stars in your eyes, you would’ve been a better psychological experiment than Pavlov’s dogs.”
“You missed your calling, Kurt. You should’ve been a standup comedian.” Randon paced the yard until he sensed Pageant nearby. His sour mood eased as soon as he spotted his mate standing on the porch.
“Well, how about that,” Kurt drawled. “There’s the lady of the hour. And look at her, why don’t you. She looks freshly fucked, recently showered, and ready to take on the world.”
“Over my dead body.” Randon left Kurt on the lawn and marched up the short cobblestone path leading to the house.
“Hey Randon!” Kurt called out. “I would choose my words carefully if I were you. By the looks of things, death could be arranged!”
Chapter Twelve
At noon, the sheriff called a private meeting for all law enforcement officers working the case. They gathered at the jail since the sheriff’s office was relatively small. Patrol cars from neighboring counties parked out front, a fact that bothered Pageant. It wasn’t a good idea to feed a madman’s over-stroked ego, particularly if said madman was a supernatural freak with the proven ability to strike, kill, and vacate the premises without a trace.
Pageant watched as the commons area filled with rookies, officers, and detectives from around the region. She fiddled with her cell phone, itching to text Randon, just to check in. She longed to hear his voice. The day hadn’t exactly started off how she’d hoped. She’d awakened to horrifying news. Still, his masculine scent lingering on her sheets had served as a delicious reminder of the good loving from the night before. Even now, her mind kept rolling through a variety of clips, images of Randon towering over her, pounding inside her, loving and claiming her.
Marking her as his.
She shivered at the thought, aware of her peaking arousal, of this unexplainable fiery need. On impulse, she quickly scoured her contact list. Glad she’d thought to ask Randon for his number, she typed out, There’s something wrong with me.
Immediately, a message returned. What is it? Where are you? I’ll be right there.
Hurriedly, she responded with, No, I’m fine. Horny and thinking of you, but not in any immediate danger.
Ah…so you miss me?
Is this normal?
Yes. Are you still in a meeting?
Yes. It hasn’t started yet.
Want to go somewhere private? I can help you take care of that problem.
She squeezed her legs together as she thought of their previous night together. I’m tempted.
It won’t take long.
She laughed. The room quieted but she ignored the glares from fellow officers. Instead, she typed out, The meeting is starting soon. Remembering a question she’d meant to ask, she continued, Randon, officers from neighboring towns are here. Why aren’t the feds here? How did you know they wouldn’t show up?
Good question. One we need to discuss. Can you call me?
