22
“You’re quiet tonight.”
When he spoke, Sadie shifted her gaze to Dawson, who was sitting on the couch not far from the chair she’d taken. Since she’d put Jayden to bed an hour ago, she and Dawson had been flipping through channels, catching part of the news and then a little Sports Center. They had the house ready for Robin Strauss’s visit first thing in the morning. Every room was spotless, the vandalism had been fixed, the fields were in the process of being tamed—which showed that Dawson could likely support Angela—and all the broken junk and trash had been removed from the yard. But there were still things that needed to be fixed, things that weren’t as high on Dawson’s priority list, so Sadie guessed Dawson was nervous. He’d been quiet, too.
“Just tired, I guess.”
“Would you rather watch something else?” he asked.
“No.” Although she wasn’t a big sports fan, she didn’t see any reason to make him change the channel. She wasn’t paying much attention to what she saw on the screen. She had so many worries, and yet all she could think about was the night she’d made love with Dawson in the field—how raw and visceral and incredibly satisfying it had been, and how badly she wanted a repeat of that experience or the one that’d come after, in Dawson’s bed. The strength of her desire, the way she craved the opportunity to touch him whenever she saw him, surprised her. Maybe she didn’t have a low libido as Sly said—he was always telling her stuff that made her feel as if she didn’t measure up to his expectations in some way—because it was all she could do not to get up and straddle Dawson right now, while he was sitting on the couch.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
The feel of his skin. The taste of his kiss. The weight of his body as he pressed her into the mattress. That seemed to make the terrible stuff go away, at least for the moment. But she couldn’t say so. They’d managed to redraw the lines they’d crossed, needed to wait and see what the fire investigator found before making any decisions on whether or not to pursue a relationship. She was too dependent on him right now, couldn’t afford to get any more intimately involved in case it ended up ruining her job situation. Even if things between them worked out, chances were she’d have to move. Sly was in a more volatile state than he’d ever been. Why start something she might not be able to finish?
“What Maude said on the phone,” she replied, just to have an answer. “I’m shocked Sly would have the nerve to come right out and ask her not to allow Damian Steele access to her property. I mean...I lived behind her for a year. That he believed he could hold sway with her over me shows how delusional he can be.”
“I’m not shocked by that at all,” Dawson responded. “I’m shocked that she was even tempted. From what you told me of your conversation, it wasn’t all that easy to convince her to oppose his wishes.”
“I don’t hold that against her. She’s a fair person. Doesn’t like conflict. And he can be very persuasive.”
Dawson turned off the TV and set the remote on the coffee table. “Regardless of her excuse, I’m encouraged he made that move.”
“Encouraged?” she echoed.
“It shows that he’s worried.”
“I agree.” Turning off the TV seemed to create a vacuum of sound. The sudden silence made her even more self-conscious. She tucked her feet beneath her. Because the box of items she’d picked up at the police station had included only a few things, she was still limited on clothing, so she was once again wearing his sweats with one of his T-shirts. “I wonder what he’ll do when he finds out that Maude’s going to allow it despite his request.”
“What can he do?”
“Treat her crappy from here on out. That’s how he operates. He’s nice as long as you give him what he wants. If you refuse, he tries to punish you.” She pulled the tie from her ponytail and raked her hair back so she could redo it. “I’ll feel terrible if he targets her for petty driving or parking citations he would’ve overlooked before. Now he’ll be searching for any excuse.”
“Did he do those types of things to people when you were married?”
“All the time. He used to laugh when he got the better of someone. It makes him feel powerful.”
Dawson’s lip curled in contempt. “It’s time people quit putting up with his bullshit.”
She drew a deep breath. “Yeah, well, I think he understands that I’m not coming back to him now, don’t you?”
“Would he take you back? After you told him you slept with me?” A faint smile curved his lips. “And that you liked it?”
She wasn’t sure they should be talking about this. Just the mention of their night together made her tingle. “I don’t know. He accused me of cheating on him a lot while we were married. But I never did. I never even dared to have a male friend, let alone a boyfriend.”
“About the other night...”
Her heart started to pound. “Yes?”
He opened his mouth to say something. Then he shook his head. “Never mind. We have a big day tomorrow. We’d better get some sleep.”
“Right. Time to turn in,” she agreed, but when he went upstairs, she didn’t move. She sat there for several minutes, hoping to stifle the desire that had made it almost impossible to stop her gaze from following him wherever he went.
Although she went down the list of reasons she’d be foolish to act on that desire, it didn’t make any difference in the end. All resistance fell by the wayside the moment she passed his room. He was just coming out. She wasn’t sure where he was going, and she didn’t ask. She simply walked into his arms, caught his face between her hands and kissed him as if he was all that mattered in the world.
* * *
Sly turned off his headlights as he pulled off the highway and crept through the countryside along the canal in his cruiser. He knew the way, had been here three times before.
The route he’d chosen was filled with large potholes, but it would eventually lead him to the rear of Dawson’s property, and getting there without being seen was all that mattered. Chief Thomas had chewed his ass out for what he’d done in the restaurant—and threatened his job if he went anywhere near Sadie again. Thomas wasn’t going to let Silver Springs PD become the subject of the next documentary on the abuse of power—that was what he’d said.
Sly cared about the force, too. The force was his life. But he refused to let Dawson Reed get the better of him. The same held true for Sadie. He’d do whatever he had to. He just wasn’t sure what that should be. Everything that came to mind, everything he imagined, was vicious. And if Dawson and Sadie suddenly went missing, he’d instantly become the prime suspect.
He had to be smarter than that, had to figure out a way to retaliate without putting his own ass on the line.
“You’re going to be sorry,” he muttered. He’d been saying that since he learned about the arson specialist, and his anger had only grown hotter since Maude Clevenger had called to let him know she was going to allow the investigator to come, after all. Sadie had talked her into it; Maude had said she owed it to Sadie to grant the request. Maude had also indicated that if he wasn’t responsible for setting the fire, he had nothing to worry about.
Except he did have something to worry about. He had a lot to worry about. Dawson and Sadie could cost him more than he could afford to lose—his job, the respect of his friends and family, even his freedom.
How dare Sadie work against him. Embarrass him by announcing to everyone in the diner that she was glad to be in someone else’s bed. File a complaint with the police force he worked for. Try to put him behind bars by proving he set the fire.
That fire had definitely turned into a lot more than he’d expected. It had spread so fast. But even then, it wasn’t such a big deal that it should destroy his whole life. Before he left her place that night, he’d made sure no one was going to get hurt. And Maude’s homeowner’s insurance would cover the damage. If it went down as unsolved, everyone could be okay. That was how it should go.
But Sadie and Dawson refused to let it. And if the truth came out, no one would believe he hadn’t intended to harm anyone. He’d be charged with attempted murder—and Sadie would be the first to testify against him.
The unfairness of that rankled so badly he couldn’t help grinding his teeth. Damn them. He wasn’t going to let them get away with it, wasn’t going to let them ruin his life.
He slowed as he came to a particularly narrow spot in the road and edged over to one side so he wouldn’t hit an irrigation pump. He was getting close, he could see the outline of the farmhouse in the moonlight only 200 feet or so away.
His tires crunched on the rocks that filled a low spot in the dirt road as he slowed even more. From there, he inched along until he reached the same vantage point he’d used before and cut the engine. He could see the yellow glow of a light through a second-story window. Was that Sadie’s room? Or Dawson’s? And it was late. Why was the light still on?
After what Sadie had said in the restaurant, he thought he could guess, but imagining her having sex with Dawson—moaning in pleasure as he pumped into her—created such a thirst for violence. He kept imagining sliding his hands around her neck and squeezing until her face turned blue, which made it impossible for him to focus on anything else. She’d had him so worked up the past few days he couldn’t eat or sleep!
You’re sleeping with him, aren’t you...
Yes, and I’ve never enjoyed anything more...
That was essentially what she’d said to him. The mere memory of her defiant expression made him long to smash her face. How dare she taunt him, when she knew his biggest complaint had always been how complacent she was in the bedroom. That was why he’d gone elsewhere occasionally: for some excitement! A man needed a good thrill every once in a while. It wasn’t as if he’d cared about those other women. He would never have touched them if she hadn’t been so resistant to trying some of the things he’d shown her in various porn flicks.
She was boring. Too straitlaced for him. He was glad to be rid of her, he told himself. Now he could do whatever he wanted, and he had no one to answer to. She couldn’t even give him a decent son. While other men’s boys were out playing baseball, his child was in the bedroom playing Barbies. Jayden was an embarrassment. Yet she stood up for him all the time, refused to let his own father teach him how to be a man.
He didn’t want her back. Not anymore. He just couldn’t take her running around town, acting as if she was so much happier with someone else, especially Dawson Reed. And he couldn’t let her bring that damn investigator to town.
His door creaked as he opened it, but there wasn’t anyone in the fields to hear. He waited and listened, to be sure. But it was every bit as quiet as it had been when he’d come here before.
After he climbed out, he closed the door softly and walked toward the house. Although he didn’t have any specific plans, he couldn’t make himself stay as far back as he always had before. That light, imagining Sadie inside, drew him closer—and closer.
Once he reached the yard, he crept across it and tried to peer through the windows. But everything was dark downstairs. Whatever was happening was happening above him, and he wanted to know what, if anything, that was. Otherwise, he could achieve no satisfaction.
He needed to get inside, he decided. Just to listen. Knowing they were so close, so vulnerable, would make him feel as if he was still in control of the situation—for a few minutes, anyway. He wouldn’t stay long.
After checking, once again, to make sure he was going unobserved, he approached the back door—and tried the knob. Son of a bitch! It was locked.
But that wouldn’t stop him. He’d just have to find another way in.
* * *
Dawson could hardly catch his breath for the intensity of Sadie’s kiss. Even though he’d been dying to touch her again, he’d promised himself he wouldn’t press her. She needed time.
But his body had acted almost of its own volition. When he’d heard her footsteps on the stairs, he’d intercepted her, intent on saying something, anything, to stall her for a few moments. He told himself he just wanted to talk, but, truth was, he couldn’t stand the thought of spending another night in his bed alone.
Fortunately, it hadn’t come to that. She acted as if she’d only been waiting for the right opportunity, because she certainly wasn’t holding back.
“Trying to leave you alone has been torture,” he said as his hands found their way up the back of her shirt where he could splay his fingers against her soft, smooth skin. “I’ve been miserable. Constantly imagining you naked against me. Imagining myself inside you. Hoping but not wanting to ask.”
“With everything that’s going on, it’s crazy I can even think of sex,” she said with a husky laugh. “But I haven’t been able to get you off my mind, either.”
“Then I’m glad you broke down.”
She kissed him again and again—hungrily, as though she might never get enough. “Tell me we’re not making a mistake,” she said as they gasped for breath. “Because I’ve never wanted a man like I want you. I can’t quash the desire, can’t even curb it.”
“You don’t have to,” he said, and she put her legs around his hips to make it easier when he lifted her and carried her to the bed.
“Wait. There’s so much that could go wrong for us...” she said.
He didn’t wait. She wasn’t committed to refusing. He could tell by the fact that she didn’t stop him when he pulled off the sweatpants he’d loaned her. “There’s also a lot about this that feels right.” He could understand her hesitancy, the fear she had to be feeling that she might be making another mistake. But practical concerns were difficult to remember, and even harder to heed, while deluged with so many hormones.
“Okay, one more time,” she said. “Then that’s it.”
“No.” He was done fighting. As far as he was concerned, they were in a relationship. Whether that would turn out to be good or bad, for either one of them, remained to be seen. But there was no going back. The fact that they were once again straining to come together, when it had been only a few days since the first time, proved that.
“No?” she echoed, sounding a little panicked.
“It’s too late. All we can do now is go for it—and hope for the best.”
Putting her hands on his chest, she pushed him far enough away to be able to look into his face. “That terrifies me as much or more than anything related to Sly.”
“I understand. But think of this. Maybe it’s meant to be. Maybe finding each other will be the one good thing to come out of all the shit we’ve been through.”
“It’s just so fast, too fast...”
“We’ve been trying to make it go slower. We just...can’t. So I say we let go—grab hands and jump off the cliff, enjoy the fall.”
She laughed again. “Is that supposed to convince me? That sounds as ominous as it does exhilarating!”
“To me, it just sounds exhilarating. I don’t want to miss out on what might be the best thing to ever happen to me. Do you?”
She ran her hand over his cheek in a gentle caress. “No,” she said, and with that the tempo of their lovemaking changed. They were no longer in such a hurry. Giving themselves permission to feel something deeper than the physical created a completely different kind of experience—one even more fulfilling.
* * *
Sly sat in Dawson’s living room, listening to the rhythmic creak of the bed overhead. Dawson and Sadie were so busy he probably could’ve used his shoulder to bust open the back door—splintered the whole damn thing—without drawing their attention. Instead, he’d been careful, oh so quiet as he used a screwdriver from Dawson’s own toolshed to dig away at the dry rot in one of the window frames until he’d made a hole large enough to reach his hand through and release the latch.
Dawson might notice the damage in the morning. Or maybe he wouldn’t. There’d been so much vandalism that he hadn’t been able to repair it all. Either way, Sly didn’t care. Dawson and Sadie wouldn’t be able to prove a damn thing. He’d been wearing gloves when he used the screwdriver—was wearing gloves now. And if it ever came down to an extensive evidence search where a strand of his hair or some of his DNA was found in the living room, so what? He’d been here before—with the chief of police, no less. He could’ve left hair or DNA then as easily as now. He wasn’t frightened. He was too livid to be frightened—so livid he could hardly see straight.
Squeak, squeak, squeak. As he listened to what was going on upstairs, he tapped the tire iron he’d used as a lever to help open the window against the palm of his left hand. The blood was rushing through his body so fast he could hear the roar of it in his ears. Even a month ago, he would never have dreamed he’d find himself in this position, had never considered the possibility that another man could come between him and Sadie. She’d always been his—since she was old enough to date.
Then Dawson had been let out of jail and, just when Sly felt as if he was making some progress toward putting his marriage back together, everything had fallen apart. Now, here he was, listening to another man take his place between her legs.
He stared at the tool in his hand. He wanted to use it on them. Get rid of them both so he didn’t have to think about them ever again. Put an end to his own torment that quickly, that easily. Even if he became the prime suspect, no one would be able to prove anything. Then there’d be no one to pay the fire inspector who was coming to town, and there would be no worry that some hotshot might be able to find what their own far less experienced department could not.
Look what you’ve reduced me to, he silently berated Sadie. An arsonist. A man who wants to commit murder.
And she thought he’d ruined her life. She had no idea what she’d done to him. He’d never be the same.
Unable to take the sound of that bed squeaking any longer, he decided to put an end to it. Imagining the humiliation he’d face if the arson investigator somehow proved he was responsible gave him the perfect excuse to do what he wanted to do anyway.
He stood up, but before he could reach the stairs, a pair of headlights flashed through the front windows of the house.
Someone was here.
Panic surged through him, clearing his head. He had to get out. Now.
Taking the screwdriver and the tire iron with him, he hurried to the back door, let himself out and slipped into the darkness.
Once he reached his car, he was relieved to be out of the house. He didn’t think he’d been seen. But he didn’t know for sure. And, just in case someone was watching and listening, he waited, didn’t dare start the engine because of the noise.
As he sat there with his heart beating in his throat, he saw headlights again, only this time the car was moving back toward the highway. He didn’t think there could be two cars, so whoever had come to the farm was leaving. Already.
Had whoever it was even gone to the door?
No. There wouldn’t have been time. At least, Sly didn’t think so.
He held off another five minutes before starting his cruiser, turning around and rolling slowly and cautiously back toward the highway. From there, he took side streets—as much as possible—to his house so that he wouldn’t run into anyone he knew.
Not until he got home, where he’d left his phone so that his whereabouts couldn’t be tracked after the fact, did he understand what’d happened. It was Pete who’d visited the farm. Sly had missed half a dozen calls from him, texts, too.
Where the hell are you, man?
Don’t tell me you’re out at Dawson Reed’s place. That would be crazy. You realize that, right?
You gotta leave Sadie and Dawson alone. They aren’t worth your future.
Why won’t you pick up? I know you’re not home. I’ve been by your place twice already.
You’re not at your mother’s either. What the hell, dude? Are you trying to get yourself kicked off the force?
Pick up. You need to listen to me.
Pete had driven to Dawson’s in order to keep him out of trouble. But he would never know just how close Sly had come—because Sly could never tell him.
* * *
Dawson woke up when Sadie pulled away from him. “You’re leaving already?” he mumbled sleepily.
“Yeah. I’ve got to get back to Jayden.”
“But it isn’t morning yet.”
“I’m afraid I’ll oversleep if I don’t go now, and it’s best if he wakes up to find me where I usually am.”
Dawson had an alarm set for fairly early, but he didn’t mention that. Jayden could always wake up before the alarm went off. Besides, things were going fast enough as it was. Sadie would probably feel more comfortable sleeping with her son, like she usually did. “Just tell me one thing before you go.”
She was putting on her clothes. “What’s that?”
“You’re okay, right? You’re not too freaked out?”
“Right now I’m not freaked out at all. Right now I’m pretty happy.”
He knew she was referring to the climax he’d given her and smiled even though she couldn’t see him. “Then try to remember, in the morning, that everything’s going to be fine. Even if things go...bad between us at some point, we’ll figure out a way to be kind to each other, to end as friends. You won’t go through anything like what you’ve been through with Sly. I promise.”
“You’re a good man,” she said. “I’m glad I met you.”
You’re a good man. That wasn’t something he’d heard very often in his life. He’d been a troubled kid and barely out of that difficult stage of life when he’d been accused of murder. The whole town still believed he’d taken two lives with a hatchet—and not just any lives but the lives of his parents.
Maybe that was why he rolled her words around and around in his head for so long after she left the room. Her belief in him felt even better than the pleasure she’d provided.