Now, parked in front of her house, her legs too tired to move, Ginny leaned her head against the headrest and closed her eyes, thoughts of the day’s interviews overwhelming her.

The sound of her door opening next to her caused her to yelp as Brogan leaned across her, unbuckling her seatbelt. His large frame filled the space and before she could protest, he reached in and pulled her gently out, cradling her against his chest as he carried her toward her front door. Throwing her arms around his neck, she protested feebly, “I can walk, you know? All my neighbors are going to think that you always carry me into my house.” She felt his chest rumble against her and she could not help but smile. “Of course, this is a more dignified way to be carried than over your shoulder like last night. God, that seems like days ago.”

As they entered, he kicked the door shut, bending to flip the deadbolt. “Right,” he said, “and that’s why I’m taking care of you now.”

Brogan stalked straight to her bedroom and, bypassing the bed, marched into the bathroom. He discovered the former owners had indeed combined two small bedrooms, to create a nice master-bedroom suite. The bathroom was well appointed, with white tile and a full, soaker tub and shower. The toilet and linen closet were behind a door, offering privacy, and the long counter held double sinks.

He settled her feet on the plush floor mat, while he bent to turn on the water spigots. Hot, steaming water filled the tub quickly and he spied a box labeled bath bombs setting on the side of the tub. He picked it up and sniffed, the floral scent filling his nostrils. Throwing in a few, they immediately began to bubble and fizz, causing him to do a double-take, making sure it was okay.

Giggling, Ginny looked over at his surprised expression. “Did you even know what bath bombs were before you threw them in?”

Blushing slightly, he shook his head. “No, but anything with the name bath on it and, smells like flowers, must be good.” Turning back to her, he began to strip her, pushing her hands out of the way. “This is all on me, babe.” Peeling her polo and then bra off, he bent to slide her pants and panties down.

She held on to his broad shoulders as she stepped out of them, shivering as his hands trailed slowly up her legs.

“Damn, you’re a temptation, but this is not about me and definitely not about sex.”

Ginny peered down at him as he continued to kneel on the mat. “Then what is it about?” Her head lifted as he stood and she maintained eye contact, his Irish blues staring straight into her.

“This is about me taking care of my woman. Sounds caveman-ish, I know, but it’s been a rough twenty-four hours for you. Come on,” he said, offering his hand.

Taking it, he wrapped his warm hand carefully around her, and she allowed herself to be pampered, an unusual feeling, as she stepped into the tub and sank into the watery depths. Moaning as she laid back, she closed her eyes as her head hit the bath pillow.

Brogan sat on the floor next to the tub and stared at her for a long moment. He could not believe this woman was with him. This beautiful, kind, strong, caring woman. He had given everything to her—his painful past, his anger and guilt, and she had taken it all, telling him to let go of his demons. Unsure if he could, he knew he would cherish her, as long as she allowed him to.

Her slightly tanned face held a few freckles captive across her cheeks and nose. Her shiny, straight hair was still in its bun, tamed as always when she was in uniform. He wanted it to fall about her shoulders but figured that, for now, being up kept it dry. Her eyes were closed and a crescent of thick lashes rested on her upper cheeks. Her mouth, with its slash of pale lipstick, was lush and moist, slightly open as she breathed. Her arms floated on top of the water and as his gaze drifted, her rosy-tipped breasts were barely visibly, but he already had their shape and feel memorized.

Her eyes opened as she rolled her head toward him. “This feels so good. Why don’t you join me?”

“If I do, then I’ll—”

“Yep, and that’s exactly what I want,” she grinned. “A hot bath and some hot sex…perfect sleep recipe.”

Grinning, he stood, jerking off his shirt. “Well, I aim to please, ma’am.”

As he crawled into the tub behind her, she laughed when the water moved higher. Soon, forgetting about the water level, she allowed him to take the worries of the day away.

* * *

Ears open, Brogan listened as the man at the end of the bar continued to talk.

“Yep, nice little town you got here. I come a couple a’ times a year. Once a year, I’ll bring my wife, but the other times, I tell her I’m on a business trip and escape here to do a little fishin’. ‘Course with the women around here, I don’t tell my wife what I’m fishin’ for.”

He laughed at his own joke and Brogan pinched his lips tighter, wishing the man would leave.

“Yes, indeed. This little ol’ town’s got some mighty fine ass. Teens in bikinis with their pert little tits all up and high. Older women with asses that are big and firm. I keep looking for a woman with pert tits and a big ass, but—”

“You drinking or talking?” Brogan interrupted.

The man blinked a few times, then looked down at his empty drink. “Sorry, man. I’ll take another. Fill ‘er up.” Snorting, he said, “That reminds me of a joke. What did the gas attendant say to the wh—”

“Shut the fuck up, man,” Brogan said, moving away from him, disgusted. He glanced down at the credit card in his hand, making a note of the name, realizing that a vacationer could easily be the culprit the police were looking for. Martin Tobaski. Nodding toward Aiden, he headed to the back. Placing a quick call to Ginny, he could not keep the grin off his face when she answered with, “Hey, honey. What’s up?”

Giving her the name, he said, “Just a thought that your culprit doesn’t have to live here, and this guy says he comes several times a year to get away from his wife. He’s been talking and, while I’m battling the desire to punch the fucker’s mouth, I’ve heard him, and he’s been observing, in great detail, the women while here.”

“Thanks, honey. You’re in a position to hear a lot so I’ll take whatever intel you have.”

Disconnecting, he heard a commotion and walked out just in time to see Aiden showing Martin to the door, with several angry customers around. Stalking to the front, one of the servers caught him by the arm.

“I’m sorry, Brogan. Please don’t fire me. I really need this job.”

He looked down at the young woman and asked, “What the fuck happened?”

“That man has been making crude comments to me when I pass and then he slapped me on the ass and said that if my boobs were bigger he’d show me what he could do with them.” Ashley’s face was bright red, but she held her body steady as she peered up into Brogan’s angry face.

“That fucker—”

“Don’t worry, Bro, I took care of him,” Aiden said, walking over to offer Ashley a hug. “Go on home, darlin’. We’ve got it and you’ll get paid for a full shift.”

“It’s okay,” she shrugged. “I know I can face this kind of thing when working in a bar.”

“Not in our bar,” Brogan said. “Aiden’s right. Take the evening off and take care of yourself.”

She smiled her thanks and headed to the back, leaving both MacFarlane brothers standing in the middle of their bar, fists on their hips, anger pouring off them.

* * *

Early, the next morning, Ginny’s phone rang again. Answering, she rubbed her eyes as she stared at the clock. 4 a.m. Grunting, she said, “Be right there.”

Turning around, she watched as Brogan sat up in bed, his naked chest holding her attention as she tried to focus. She had more sleep than the previous night, but her body still felt sluggish. Staring at the muscles and tats as he twisted around to look at her, she knew her body craved his more than sleep.

His sleep rough voice rumbled, “Babe, you don’t get enough shut-eye.”

Her eyes focused on his face and, ignoring his observation, she asked, “Doesn’t Ashley Tabor work at the pub?”

Brogan stared, his mouth tight as his stomach flip-flopped. “Yeah,” he replied. “Why?”

Leaning forward, Ginny placed her hand on his arm, sympathy in her eyes as she answered, “Oh, honey, I’m sorry, but she was attacked tonight.”

* * *

Another long day. Another day where the Baytown Police Department had all hands on deck as they worked the cases, desperate to find the man before he struck again.

Ginny stared at her fifth cup of coffee setting on the table as her stomach burned. Rubbing her sternum, Sam looked over.

“You got an ulcer?”

Shrugging, she dropped her hand, determined to plow through more of the intelligence. Since Ashley lived in a house just over the town line and officially in the North Herron County district, they now had the full support of the Sheriff’s Department, since that crime was in their jurisdiction. The added deputies were needed and several of them were now at the station, reviewing the evidence in front of them.

Ginny had spent another few hours with Ashley at the hospital, grateful that she also had not been raped, but this assault occurred in her home. The assailant had forced her on her stomach also, feeling her up as he jacked-off on her back.

She had looked at the background of Martin Tobaski, who had conveniently left town, then she accompanied one of the North Herron Deputies to Virginia Beach to question him about his whereabouts the night before. He had not been pleased to have the police show up at his doorstep.

Closing her eyes, she thought back to their interview with the evasive Mr. Tobaski.

He had been visibly furious when they arrived, his eyes darting to the curious stares of his neighbors. “Come in and get off my stoop. Jesus, my wife is at the store and I want this done before she gets home.” Seeing Ginny’s lifted brow, he added, “She’s not well and I don’t want her upset.”

Ginny stared at the forty-four-year old man—balding, medium build, with a slight potbelly hanging over his pants. A glance at the wedding picture on the mantle from what must have been about twenty years prior, showed a handsome man, blond, with a white-toothed smile. Shifting back, she thought that life had been hard on him, but buried the grin at the thought of his philandering ways bringing him some discomfort. She recognized the slight revenge streak in her, but dismissed it as the Deputy began questioning.

Martin first denied being in Baytown, but the credit card receipt from Finn’s Pub blew that excuse. Then he denied being kicked out of the pub by the owners. Faced with the statements from Aiden and three other patrons, all claiming he made the sexual comments to the server, he leaned back in his chair in frustration.

“Come on, she’s a barmaid. Jesus, she knows what it’s like. She wears tight jeans and gets more tips. I was just giving her what she wanted—attention.”

“What kind of attention were you willing to give her?” Ginny asked, her eyes never leaving his face as beads of sweat dripped from his forehead.

“I don’t want my wife to know this,” he moaned. “Can we get this over with?”

“If you start giving us straight answers, then yes. If not, we’ll take you back to the station for further questioning.”

At that, Martin blanched, “Fine, fine. I like a little on the side, so sue me. I go out to Baytown because no one I know would ever be at that little shit-stain town.”

Ginny inwardly flinched but maintained her outward composure, willing for him to keep digging a deeper hole.

“Not my wife, not her friends, not my co-workers…nobody. I walk around the beach, the town, checking out the women. I drink at the bar or at one of the restaurants, just to see who might be up for a romp.”

“And if no one seems interested?”

“Oh, you can always find someone who’s interested. They might just play a little hard to get.”

“Is that what happened last night?”

“Look, I’m telling you that piece of fluff was interested, she just needed at little convincing. I tried the subtle way, but she was making me work for it. Hell, her ass was great but her tits were small, so I thought I’d get her juices flowing talking about what I’d like to do to her. Bitch got upset and then some big brute got up in my face and kicked me out of the bar. Me? Seriously? He kicks me out? You should have seen some of the red neck townies still in there. What a no-class dump.”

“How’d that make you feel? Angry? Mad at the server?”

Leaning forward, Martin said, “Oh, hell, I was pissed and don’t mind telling you. I’ve got a job that makes more money than anyone in that bar and yet I’m the one they gave the boot to? And you should have seen her eyes. She wanted it, but I think she just liked jerking my chain. But, when it comes to the ladies, I’m in control.”

Ginny’s neutral expression stayed plastered on her face as she asked, “What did you do after you left the bar?”

“Oh, I got me some all right,” Martin bragged.

“Where and with who?”

His face lost some of it bravado as his eyes narrowed. Nervously glancing out of the front window, he said, “Look, I want to know what this is about. I’m not answering any more questions until I know why you’re asking.”

“The woman you insulted,” Ginny said, “was assaulted last night. Curious that, after she rebukes you, she’s attacked.”

Martin jerked back, his mouth open and eyes wide. “Me? You think I did that? No, no way. I…I—”

“Then I suggest you cooperate.”

Looking out the window once more, he cursed, “Fucking hell. My wife is coming down the street—”

“Then talk quickly,” Ginny prodded, secretly wishing his wife would hurry.

“I went walking. Ended up at the restaurant at the harbor…Seafood something. They had a band and I saw some women sitting outside on the deck. Scoped them out, asked one to dance, and then she took me back to her place. I was back here by about 1 a.m.”

“Name of woman?”

“Jesus, I don’t know. I wasn’t interested in anything other than the fact that she had big hooters and a place easy to get to.” Rubbing his sweaty forehead, he said, “Uh, Sherry…or Sheryl…or Sherilyn. That’s it! Sherilyn.”

Recognizing the name, Ginny wrote it down. “Where does she live?”

“Uh, close. We only had to drive a few minutes. It was off the road near the cemetery heading toward Route 13. It was a one-story…white house…had a fence in the front.”

Nodding, Ginny snapped her notebook closed and looked at the deputy doing the same.

The front door opened and an attractive blonde stepped inside. Although twenty years had passed, they’d been much kinder to Mrs. Tobaski than her husband.

“Martin? What’s going on?”

“Darling, these officers were just finishing. I had some business on the Eastern Shore and there was an accident. They wanted to check up on anyone who had been in the area.”

She appeared confused for a few seconds as she looked from Ginny, to the deputy, then over to her husband. “Eastern Shore?”

“They have two great golf courses and I wanted to check them out. I had a drink at one of the restaurants there and they wanted to question me about some of the people there.”

His excuse was laughable at best, but Ginny nodded as she turned to walk out the front door. “We’ll be in touch if we need more information,” she said, seeing Martin’s glare burning straight toward her. As she stepped out onto the porch, she could hear his wife’s strident voice from inside, questioning Martin about where he had been and who he had been with.

“Is it a bad thing that I’m glad his wife is giving him hell?” the deputy asked as they climbed into the North Hampton cruiser.

Chuckling, Ginny shook her head. “Personally, I was hoping she’d come home in the middle of our questioning. I wanted to see him squirm a little more.” Closing her eyes as they began the drive back over the long Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel, she dreamed of her tub filled with warm water, a bath bomb, and Brogan.