Hot on Her Heels. Сьюзен Мэллери
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me with anything. This is a fishing expedition.”
While she knew in her head that reacting with violence only weakened her position and proved he was right, she really, really wanted to hit him.
“I’m officially bored,” she said, dropping her arm to her side. “Let’s get this over with.”
“The part where you watch me naked?”
She stepped into his condo and rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Lucky, lucky me. Have you been featured in Arrogance Monthly yet?”
“I’ve been on the cover.”
He shut the door, then led the way through the large penthouse.
The main room was huge—she was guessing she could fit her apartment and five others just like it in the space. There were floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of most of Dallas. Not that she cared about that sort of thing.
She returned her attention to the man in front of her, then frowned as sunlight caught his back, illuminating the scars crisscrossing his skin.
A few of them were thin lines, but most were thick and raised, as if the skin had been cut over and over again. Her stomach clenched slightly, not that she allowed her expression to change.
She knew the basic facts about Garth Duncan. He was rich—scary rich, with dozens of companies and money flowing like water. He’d started in the oil business and while down in South America, no doubt raping and pillaging a pristine part of the world, he’d been captured and held prisoner by some angry locals. They’d kept him and a coworker blindfolded in the jungle for a month, torturing them both daily.
Her gaze dropped to his long, muscled legs. She could see faint scars there, too, but these had come from a surgeon. Both of Garth’s legs had been broken during his captivity. His friend had carried him to safety.
If only Garth had died back then, Dana thought, but without a whole lot of energy. He wouldn’t be hurting her friends. But he hadn’t died. He’d come back home and flourished.
She followed a few steps behind as he entered a massive bedroom, then continued into a bathroom the size of a grocery store. That led into one of those fancy closets done in dark wood. All the clothes were perfectly organized by color. Shoes were lined up on racks.
She leaned against the doorway, never taking her eyes from him. “Anytime.”
His dark gaze locked with hers. He seemed to be enjoying himself, which pissed her off. But once the investigation began, his attitude would change. She was bringing him in. For now, that was enough.
His smile returned. He pulled the towel off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. “If you don’t have to be anywhere in the next couple of hours, we could take advantage of my lack of clothes.”
“Hours? Oh, please. You’d be lucky to last six minutes. Quit playing, Garth. I have a full day ahead of me. Despite what you think, the world doesn’t revolve around you.”
“Yes, Deputy Birch.”
He dropped the towel at his waist.
She kept her eyes on his face. Not only didn’t he interest her in the least, but she was here in a professional capacity. She was proud of her job and what she did for the community. The good people of her town didn’t pay her to ogle the likes of Garth Duncan.
“No?” he asked, completely naked and holding out his arms at his side. “I’m yours for the taking.”
She faked a yawn.
He laughed. A rich, full laugh that spoke of amusement and perhaps grudging respect. For reasons she couldn’t explain, she found herself wanting to smile back at him. As if they were sharing a connection. As if they had something in common. As if they almost liked each other and might even be almost friends.
Dana turned and walked out of the closet. “Get dressed,” she called as she went.
“What if I have a gun in here?” he yelled after her.
“Then I get to shoot you.”
She crossed to the window in the bedroom and stared out at the view. But she only saw her friends’ faces. The three sisters Garth was trying to ruin. He hadn’t been content to attempt to destroy Lexi’s business or ruin Skye’s foundation. He’d actually tried to kill Izzy. What the hell was she thinking, smiling at him?
Garth was the enemy. He was evil. She was going to put him in prison for a very long time.
Five minutes later he walked into the bedroom. He wore a suit she was sure cost more than she made in a couple of months.
“Let’s go,” she said. “We’ll take my car.”
“I’m calling my lawyer on the way. She’ll meet us at the police station.”
“You can call Congress and God for all I care.” She pointed to the hallway. “Move.”
Instead of heading toward the living room, he moved toward her. For a split second Dana wondered if he had really had a gun in the closet. She reached for her sidearm.
“I didn’t try to kill her,” Garth said. “I had nothing to do with what happened to Izzy.”
“I’m not the one you have to convince,” Dana told him.
“You’re a cop. Look at me, Dana. Tell me if you think I’m lying.” He stared into her eyes. “I didn’t try to kill Izzy. I didn’t cause the explosion. I never went after her at all.”
He was standing too close, she thought suddenly. She wasn’t worried about him coming after her, but she still felt uneasy. What was going on?
Hating to give up the power, she took a step back.
He was lying. He had to be lying. But the voice in her head that warned her when someone was trying to pull a fast one was oddly silent.
“I suppose you didn’t do anything at all,” she said, grabbing his arm and starting toward the hallway. “That you’re completely innocent.”
He only smiled.
He could have pulled away easily, but didn’t, which left her in the uncomfortable position of hanging on to him. She could feel the heat of his skin, the muscles, the smooth fabric of his fancy suit.
“Don’t mess with me,” she growled.
“I didn’t say a word.”
So why did she feel so uncomfortable?
Weakness wasn’t allowed, she reminded herself. Not with him, not with anyone.
“PLEASE TELL ME THEY threatened you before I got there,” Mary Jo Sheffield said as she and Garth walked toward her car. “I’m itching to file a lawsuit.”
His attorney—a fortysomething blonde who barely came to his shoulder—looked determined. She could scent blood with the efficiency of a shark, one of the reasons he’d hired her.
“Sorry to disappoint you,” Garth told her as he waited for her to unlock her Mercedes. “They were polite and didn’t notify the press.”
Mary Jo wrinkled her nose. “Tell me someone hit you or threatened to hit you. Tell me they manhandled your cat when they brought you in. I need something to work with here.”
“I don’t have a cat,” Garth said.
“So few men do. Something I’ve never understood. Cats treat their owners with disdain and God knows your gender is constantly falling for women who treat them badly.” Mary Jo grinned. “Sorry. Ignore the rant. So you’re saying I can’t sue the Dallas Police Department?”
“I’m saying I can’t help you make your case.”
“Damn.”
She unlocked her car. Garth slid into the passenger seat.
He’d