Warrior Son. Rita Herron
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She’d hated to see the big, strong man in pain. A comforting hug had led to a kiss. A kiss filled with such loneliness that she hadn’t been able to resist. They’d made love for hours.
Sometimes at night when she was alone, she closed her eyes and could still feel his big, strong hands touching her, stroking her, loving her. She’d never felt anything so intense.
But the next morning, he’d walked away from her and hadn’t spoken to her since.
What would he say if she showed up with questions about Joe McCullen’s death?
* * *
ROAN CONGRATULATED THE happy couple before he drove back to the cabin he’d rented on the river. He missed the res, but working for the sheriff’s department meant he worked for all the people in Pistol Whip and the county it encompassed, so living in a neutral, more central location seemed wisest.
“Did you see anything suspicious tonight?” Maddox asked as they watched Scarlet toss the bouquet.
“No. I’ll ride across the property on my way home and take a look around, though.”
“Thanks.” Maddox shook his hand. “I appreciate you covering the office while Rose and I were gone. Brett said he was going to hire extra security for the ranch for a while, at least until we find out who set those fires. He’s rebuilding the barns and the main house is already done.”
“Extra security is not a bad idea,” Roan said. Maddox, Brett and Ray couldn’t keep up the ranch and do surveillance around the clock by themselves.
After all, on a spread this size, there were dozens of places for someone to hide.
Some blonde caught the bouquet, prompting squeals from the guests, and Maddox joined his wife on the dance floor.
Roan leaned against the edge of the makeshift bar they’d set up for the reception, his mouth watering for a cold beer. But he didn’t drink on the job.
The McCullen men danced and swayed with their wives, and for some odd reason, a pang hit him. They looked so damn happy.
They were family.
Something he didn’t have anymore.
Yet...they were his blood kin.
It doesn’t matter. You’re not going to tell them.
Hell, they’d probably think he was like Bobby Lowman, that he wanted something from them.
He wanted nothing but to live in peace. Caring about folks meant pain when they went away.
His mother’s face flashed in his mind. Truth be known, she was the only person in the world he’d ever loved.
His phone buzzed, and he checked the number, surprised to see Dr. Megan Lail’s name appear. Damn, he hadn’t seen her since last year, the night his mother died.
Since the night they’d...gotten hot and sweaty between the sheets.
Perspiration broke out on his brow and he swiped at it. It was the most erotic sex he’d ever had. For months he’d dreamed about it, woken up to an image of Megan’s breasts swaying above him as she impaled herself on his shaft. Of him pumping inside her, of her ivory skin blushing with passion and her soft moans of ecstasy filling the air.
The phone jarred him again, and he cursed and stepped aside, away from the festivities so he could hear. She was the ME, after all. She might have news about a case.
“Deputy Whitefeather.”
“Roan, it’s Dr. Lail. Megan.”
The sound of her husky voice triggered more memories of their lovemaking and made his body go rock hard.
He kept his reply short, afraid he’d give away the yearning in his voice if he said too much. “Yeah?”
“I need to see you.”
His breath stalled in his chest. She needed him? Instantly his thoughts turned to worry. What if the damn condoms hadn’t worked that night? They’d made love—how many times?
“Megan, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said softly, arousing tender feelings inside him. Feelings he didn’t want to have.
“Then why did you call?”
Her sharp intake indicated he’d been brusque.
“I’m sorry, if this is a bad time, I can call back.”
Now he had to know the reason for her call. “No, it’s fine. I’m standing guard at Ray McCullen’s wedding in case that arsonist strikes again.”
“That’s sort of the reason I called.”
He frowned, his gaze piercing the night as he pivoted to scan the pastures. “Do you have information that could help?”
“I’m not sure,” she said. “But I had some questions about Joe McCullen’s autopsy.”
Roan went completely still. “What kind of questions?”
“I don’t feel comfortable discussing it over the phone. Can we meet?”
An image of her unruly, long wavy hair surfaced. Although she usually wore it in a tight bun, the moment he’d yanked that bun free, he’d unleashed some kind of sexual animal that she kept hidden from the world.
Seeing her was not a good idea.
“Please,” she said. “It’s important. And...you’re the only one I trust.”
Damn, did she have to put it that way?
“All right. Where are you?”
“I’m still at the morgue. But I’d prefer to meet you somewhere else.”
He could go to her place. But that would be too personal. Too tempting.
“I’ll be done soon. How about we meet at The Silver Bullet in an hour?”
She agreed and hung up. For the next hour, Roan watched the celebration wind down. The happy couple kissed and said goodbye as they rushed to the limo Ray had rented. They were headed to the airport to fly to Mexico for their honeymoon.
He left the security team Brett had hired to watch over the ranch, took a quick drive across the property, looking for any stray vehicle or a fire, but all seemed quiet.
By the time he reached The Silver Bullet, he was sweating just thinking about seeing Megan again. He spotted her in a booth to the side when he entered. Country music blared from the speakers, smoke clogged the room and footsteps pounded from the line dance on the dance floor.
Megan looked up at him, one hand clenching a wineglass, her eyes worried. He ordered a beer and joined her. She’d secured her hair in that bun again, she wore no makeup and her clothes were nondescript. Once again it struck him that she downplayed her looks. He wondered why.
She could wear a damn feed sack and she’d still be the prettiest girl he’d ever met. And he knew what she looked like with that hair down, her body naked, her lips trailing kisses down his chest.
“Megan,” he said as he slipped into the booth across from her.
“Thank you for coming.” She licked her lips, drawing his eyes to her mouth. He took a sip of beer to stall and wrangle his libido.
“You said it was important.” Please spit it out so I can go home and forget about you.
Not that he ever had. But he was trying.
“Roan, I may be jumping the gun, but I had to talk to someone about this.”
The worry in her voice sounded serious. He straightened. “What is it?”
She looked down in her glass. “When I performed Joe McCullen’s autopsy the first time, I...thought I saw something