Protecting Peggy Page 11

  He couldn’t touch her. Wouldn’t. Even if he had planned to stay in Prosperino for good—which he didn’t—nothing changed the fact he was a cop. He might work out of a lab, but he carried a badge and a gun, just as her husband had.

  The badge gave Rory connections. Without qualm, he had called a contact at the LAPD and obtained a faxed copy of the incident report detailing Jay Honeywell’s death. Honeywell had been a sergeant, working undercover narcotics. A fellow cop read a situation wrong, jumped to unsupported conclusions, which led to the bust of what was thought to be a cocaine operation in a warehouse. Instead of the expected distribution center, what the cops found when they raided the place were street druggies cooking crank. One suspect fired a shot that ignited open containers of ether. The resulting explosion killed Sergeant Honeywell, two fellow officers and one bad guy.

  Setting his jaw, Rory headed for the tavern’s dimly lit door, the loose gravel crunching beneath his feet. He knew he could have her. The knowledge was based not on conceit, but the memory of how Peggy had trembled in his arms when he’d held her. If he closed his eyes, he could feel her body shuddering against his while her nipples tightened and her lips opened beneath his.

  Yes, he knew he could have her. Knew, too, that even if they became lovers, chances were good he would leave Prosperino with her having no clue he carried a badge.

  Problem was he knew. If he took her to bed knowing how she felt about cops, he would never be able to face himself again in a mirror.

  He should get the hell away from Honeywell House. Check out tonight, then bunk with Blake at Hopechest Ranch. The downside to that scenario was it would limit his observation of Charlie O’Connell.

  Rory rubbed at the knots in the back of his neck. Who was he trying to kid? He had no evidence to suggest O’Connell was anything other than a disgruntled civil servant who refused to share information. Rory knew damn well that Peggy and Samantha were the reason he hadn’t left Honeywell House. The lady art judges had checked out the day after the arts festival. The honeymooning couple, the day after that. No new guests had arrived since then. Other than himself, Charlie O’Connell was the only guest. The idea of the bastard trying to hustle Peggy while he groped at her had Rory muttering a derisive curse.

  Stepping beneath the bare bulb, he pulled open the heavy wooden door. He was instantly greeted by the slam and crack of pool balls and air redolent with a lifetime of tobacco.

  Pausing, he waited just inside the door while his eyes adjusted to the dim interior. On his right was a long, scarred bar where several men huddled on stools, talking over their beers; on his left sat two pool tables with glaring fluorescent lights hanging overhead. Both tables were in use.

  Rory shifted his gaze, caught sight of Blake Fallon and another man sitting at a table in the back of the bar.

  Rory strode past several tables, all occupied. The customers’ dress ran the gamut from work shirts and jeans to tailored suits. A real cultural mix, he thought. He stopped by the bar, ordered a beer, then carried his glass to Blake’s table.

  Blake nodded toward the man sitting across from him. “Rory Sinclair, meet Rafe James.”

  Still standing, Rory extended his hand. “Good to meet you.”

  “Same here.”

  The copper skin, midnight black hair and high slash of cheekbones evidenced Rafe James’s Native American heritage. The cool mahogany eyes that gazed out of the sharp-angled face gave the impression they could carve a man into pieces at ten paces.

  Rory settled his jacket over the back of an empty chair, then took a seat. “I have to tell you, Fallon, if this dive is the pride of Prosperino, I’m packing my bags and leaving tonight.”

  Despite the fatigue that shadowed his eyes, Blake grinned. “You weren’t paying attention on the phone, Sinclair. I said Jake’s sirloin burgers are the pride of Prosperino. Rafe and I already ordered ours. I told the waitress to bring you one, too.”

  “I’ll reserve my thanks until I taste the thing.” Rory took a peanut from the plastic bowl on the table, cracked it.

  Mentally, he scanned the list of names Blake had given him of people who could profit if he lost his job. Then the names of those who might take revenge on Blake for the two attempts his father had made on Joe Colton’s life. Rafe James hadn’t made either list.

  Rory scooped up another peanut. “So, Rafe, what’s your connection with my college buddy here?”

  “We raised hell together growing up.” Rafe slid Blake a look. “Now I raise Appaloosas on my own ranch. I get into a lot less trouble these days.”

  “True,” Blake agreed. “But you don’t have near as much fun.”

  “You have a point.”

  Blake’s smile faded as he met Rory’s gaze. “People come from all over the country to buy Rafe’s Appaloosas. He’s holding his breath, just like everybody else, that the water on his ranch keeps testing okay.”

  “I wish I could tell you what caused the contamination at Hopechest,” Rory said, then tipped back his beer. “I can’t. Yet. Right now all I can do is give you a list of things that didn’t cause it.” He paused, furrowing his brow. “It’s great that every other water source in the area has tested fine, but that concerns me, too.”

  “You’re thinking the contamination was done on purpose,” Blake said. “That someone targeted Hopechest Ranch. Or me. If that’s the case, I need to shut down the entire operation. Get the kids and staff out of there before, God forbid, something worse happens.”

  “Don’t jump the gun until we know something for sure.” Rory shifted in his chair. “I’m a chemist, Blake. All I can do is identify the contaminant. That’s the first step. The second one is figuring out how the stuff got into the water. If it turns out whatever the hell it is spread there from an underground source, you’ll probably need a geologist or a hydrologist—or both—to explain how aquifers and water tables work.” Rory frowned. “And I’ll want a question or two answered myself.”

  “For instance?” Blake asked.

  “Right now, a new well is being drilled on the Crooked Arrow Reservation. The well site is just yards from Hopechest property. The water at that drill site tests okay. If it turns out the contaminant came from a nearby underground source, someone’s going to have to explain to me how and why it got into one well, but not the other.”

  Rafe looked at Blake. “That’s the well Springer’s paying to have drilled.”

  “Springer,” Rory repeated. “I saw that name on the side of a pickup truck when I took water samples at the well site. What’s Springer?”

  “An oil company,” Blake answered. “Operates a refining plant outside of town.”

  Rory raised a brow. “So, why is an oil company drilling a water well on an Indian reservation?”

  “In a name, David Corbett.” Rafe inclined his head toward the front of the bar. “That’s him shooting pool at the far table. The guy wearing the starched white shirt with its sleeves rolled up.”

  Rory caught a glimpse of an athletically built man, just above six feet tall. His loosened navy tie and the conservative cut auburn hair pegged him as an executive.

  “He a good guy?” Rory asked.

  Rafe nodded. “I do security work as a sideline and I’ve worked off and on at Springer. I filled in there for a couple of weeks when one of their guards got sick and they were in a bind. Springer had just decided to expand its operations, and it made an offer to lease some land that belongs to the Crooked Arrow Reservation. Corbett’s a high-up VP at Springer, so I guess that’s why he personally delivered the offer to the elders at the res. The elders said no.”

  Rory angled his chin. “By the way you sound, I take it Corbett didn’t go away mad?”

  “No. In fact, he was so appalled by the living conditions of some of the Native Americans that he came back with an offer from Springer to drill a new water well on res land. Free of charge. That’s the well you saw being drilled.”

  “Corbett’s a righteous guy,” Blake agreed. His eyes narrow
ed. “I sure can’t say much for his choice of pool partners, though.”

  Rory looked again toward the front of the bar. His gaze settled on the wiry-framed man with light brown hair who was leaning over the pool table. He executed his break, then gave Corbett a smug smile that accompanied the clatter of balls.

  Rory tapped an index finger against his glass. “Holly,” he said to Blake. “Your secretary’s name is Holly, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “She has the same eyes and jawline of the man playing pool with David Corbett.”

  “Showoff,” Blake muttered. “Yeah, that’s Holly’s father. His name’s Todd Lamb.”

  Rory watched Lamb circle the pool table, calculating his next shot while he chalked his cue. Neither David Corbett nor Todd Lamb had made either of Blake’s lists.

  Rory looked back at Blake. “You have something against Lamb?”

  “Nothing personal.” Blake raised a shoulder. “I just don’t like the way he ignores his daughter. Holly deserves better.”

  Rory kept his expression neutral as he scooped another peanut out of the bowl. He remembered the way Holly’s gaze had lingered on Blake, the softening in her voice when she spoke to him. Rory suspected the potential was there for more than just a boss-employee relationship.

  “Here’s your order, boys.” A redhead with expressive, flirty eyes and a black leather skirt that barely made it past the legal limit sauntered up to the table, a loaded tray in her hands. “Three of Jake’s special sirloin burgers. And fries.” When she leaned and settled the plates on the table, her skinny black top dipped down low over firm, well-developed breasts.

  Rory pursed his mouth when she ambled away on skyscraper heels. “Are you boys sure it’s these sirloin burgers that are the pride of Prosperino?”

  Rafe chuckled. “Scout’s honor.”

  Rory took a bite and found himself pleasantly surprised. “This is great. I’m starved.”

  Blake looked at Rafe. “Can you believe you heard that statement from someone staying at Honeywell House?”

  “No.” Rafe washed down a bite with a swallow of beer. “The last time I was there, Peggy served me a piece of key lime pie. Best I’ve ever tasted. I made such a big deal over it, she sent the rest of the pie home with me.”

  “That’s Peggy,” Blake agreed. “Nobody leaves Honeywell House hungry.” He shot Rory a look. “You sample her apricot cobbler yet?”

  “Haven’t had a chance.”

  “When you were in my office, you said you and Peggy struck a deal. You test the inn’s water twice a day, she bakes you the dessert of your choice every night.”

  “That’s the deal.”

  “So, what happened?”

  “I test the inn’s water twice a day. It’s fine, in case you were wondering.”

  “What about dessert?”

  Rory thought of the past nights he’d paced his room, thinking about Peggy. Wanting her. He knew that after he left Prosperino, he would lie awake a lot of nights, thinking about being with her.

  “I decided it’d be best if I passed on dessert,” he said quietly. “All it takes is willpower. A lot of willpower.”

  Eight

  “Mr. O’Connell said he needed to borrow my station wagon for an hour. Two at the most.” Standing at the center island, Peggy turned and checked the clock on the oven, saw it was nearly nine o’clock. She looked back across the kitchen at the table where Kade Lummus sat. “It’s been over five hours.”

  Looking relaxed and comfortable in his worn jeans and gray sweater, Kade took the last bite of the warm bread pudding with white chocolate sauce she had served him when he arrived. “You’re sure O’Connell didn’t mention anything about who he planned to meet?” Kade asked, nudging his bowl aside. “Or where?”

  “No. I didn’t ask. Looking back, I should have, since he wanted to borrow my car to get there.” She shoved her hair behind her shoulders. “After he said he might finally find out some answers about what happened to the water on Hopechest Ranch, all I wanted was for him to get to his meeting.”

  “I would have felt the same way. Everyone’s holding their breath over the water contamination. Waiting for answers is like sitting on a fault line, wondering when the next earthquake will hit.”

  “That sums it up.” Her concern about the inn’s water had eased slightly now that Rory was running tests twice a day and slipping the results on notes under her office door. Still, she was like everyone else—worried about the safety of the town’s water supply. If the contaminant suddenly spread, the entire population of Prosperino might have to evacuate. A knot formed in her throat at the possibility. The inn was more than just a means of support for her and Samantha. They had built a life in her grandmother’s house that nestled on the cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Peggy couldn’t imagine leaving and not knowing when she could return.

  She picked up a pot holder, slid it into a drawer near the cooktop. “Kade, I feel bad about calling you at home. I wanted your advice on what to do about Mr. O’Connell’s being gone so long. I didn’t intend for you to drive over here.”

  As she spoke, rain started to patter on the roof, sounding like fingers lightly drumming on a table. Peggy walked to the window over the sink, nudged back one side of the striped curtain and glanced out. O’Connell’s rental car hunched in the rain beside Kade’s police cruiser, the only cars parked in the lot. She forced away thoughts about Rory, wondering where he was, when he would get back.

  Turning, she rubbed at the ache that had settled in her forehead and met Kade’s gaze. “Thanks to me, you’re going to get wet.”

  “No big deal.” He sipped the coffee she had brewed when he arrived, his dark eyes watching her over the rim of the mug. “Your bread pudding is worth getting a little wet.”

  She relaxed enough to smile. “Thanks. Would you like more?”

  “Yes, but I’ll pass. As it is, I have to spend double time at the gym working off this one helping.” He flipped the cover closed on the small pad on which he’d jotted notes. “I’ve got all the information I need on your station wagon. I’ll have dispatch put it out on the air tonight.”

  “I don’t want Mr. O’Connell to get into trouble. I did loan him the car.”

  “At this point, the only thing he’s guilty of is breaking his word to you. I’ll make sure dispatch broadcasts the information as a ‘check the welfare of the driver’ stop.” Kade rose, walked to the back door and snagged his jacket off the nearby coatrack. “My shift starts at seven in the morning. Give me a call. If O’Connell hasn’t surfaced, I’ll upgrade him to a missing person and put a statewide APB out on your station wagon.” As he spoke, Kade pulled on his jacket. “Give Samantha a kiss for me. Tell her I’m sorry I didn’t make it here before her bedtime.”

  “I will. She’ll be upset she missed seeing you.” Peggy walked to where he stood, put a hand on his arm. “I appreciate all you do for us, Kade.”

  He looked down, his steady brown eyes locked with hers. “I don’t want your appreciation, Peggy. You know that.”

  “I know.” She dropped her hand, curled it against her thigh. “And you know I can’t ever get involved again with a cop. I can’t do it, Kade.”

  He cupped a hand to her cheek, his mouth tightening. “I’ve thought about giving up the job so you and I would have a chance to see what could happen between us. I can’t bring myself to do that. No matter how much I care about you, I can’t turn my back on the job. I’m a cop. That’s all I’ll ever be. It’s who I am.”

  Jay had been the same way, born to wear a badge. He had thrived on the edge of danger that was a natural part of the job. The job that had killed him. His senseless death had left her with a scar on her heart and a hole in her life that would always be there.

  “It’s no good, Kade,” she said softly. “If you walked away from being a cop, you would someday hate me for that.”

  “Yeah.” He dropped his hand, eased out a breath, then changed the subject. “After your
attack, we put extra patrols on the inn. None of the guys have spotted anything. We also haven’t had any additional sightings of the drifter I told you about. Looks like he’s left the area.”

  “That’s a relief.”

  Kade hesitated. “Before I left the other night, I asked Sinclair to keep his eyes open for anything around here that didn’t look right. He’s called twice to let me know he hasn’t seen anything. He’s also grilled me on what we’re doing about finding the guy that hurt you.”

  Peggy slid her hands into the pockets of her slacks, pulled them back out. She’d had no idea Rory had called Kade. Then again, how could she know, since he’d made himself so scarce the past three days?

  “It’s nice that so many people are looking out for Samantha and me,” she said.

  “You know you can call me if you need anything. Anytime.” Without waiting for her to comment, Kade turned, pulled open the door, then shut it tight behind him.

  Weary, she rested her forehead against the door. Kade was a good man. An honorable one. She had no doubt that, for as long as he lived, he would be there for her and Samantha. She closed her eyes. Jay had told her he would be there for her always. Yet, he hadn’t even lived long enough to see their daughter.

  “No cops,” Peggy said quietly. “Never again.”

  It wasn’t lost on her that she had been perfectly able to control the depth of her feelings for Kade, but not for Rory. Why couldn’t she make herself stop yearning for a man who would only be a part of her life for so short a time?

  “Crazy,” she murmured. She was an intelligent woman, responsible and, for the most part, logical. Here she was, stupidly, irrationally drawn to a man who could offer her nothing but heartbreak. She’d had enough of that in her life, and she didn’t need to go around, leaving herself open for more. Especially from a man who didn’t even want her.