Desperado Lawman. Harper Allen
call ourselves.” She saw his assessing glance at her. “That’s right. I’m Dineh, too, Agent.”
“Your background isn’t what concerns me.” With his free hand the big man rubbed his jaw. “But there was nothing in Joey’s file to indicate he had any tribe affiliation. If the state authorities had known, when his mother died he would have been put into a facility where his culture would have been emphasized while he was waiting for adoption or fostering.”
“I’m not surprised he didn’t tell them. He’s a pretty close-mouthed little guy until he gives his trust.”
“And you say he gave his trust to you,” Connor said shortly. “I’d like to believe you. Hell, I halfway do, at that. But even if Joey thinks he’s safe with you, you know that protecting him is our job, not yours. He isn’t being chased by a monster, he’s being hunted by a killer, probably two, if MacLeish and Leroy are working together.”
He still didn’t get it, Tess told herself wearily. He never would, and she’d been a fool to hope otherwise. Virgil Connor was defined by his badge and his gun. He played by the rules. He didn’t think outside the box, and he’d probably get to be area director with those qualities.
Worst of all, he didn’t believe in monsters. And that meant he was no protection at all for Joey Begand.
She pushed a stray strand of hair back from her forehead. She intended to be on the road again before sunup, and she desperately needed some sleep before the several hours of driving still ahead of her.
Agent Connor was going to get some shut-eye, too, she thought, which was why she’d had no qualms about informing him about her plans. By the time he awoke tomorrow and found himself alone here, Joey would be on Navajo Nation land where the FBI would need warrants and special permission from tribal leaders to retrieve him—permission she was almost certain wouldn’t be forthcoming.
Letting his witness and the woman who’d abducted him slip through his fingers wasn’t going to look good on his file, but a blot on Agent Connor’s copybook wasn’t her biggest worry. Setting the gun down on the dresser beside her, she retrieved her purse from the foot of the bed.
“If your main concerns are MacLeish and Leroy, I’m surprised you aren’t out hunting them,” she said evenly. “But there’s no point in discussing our differing viewpoints, Agent Connor. Whether either one of us likes it or not, we’re sharing a motel room for the next few hours, so let’s—”
“Connor.” His interjection was brusque. “Just Connor. Drop the agent part, lady, since the fact that I’m FBI doesn’t seem to mean too much to you. I’m the man you’re holding at gunpoint. You’re the woman I let pull a fast one on me. Yeah, we’re in a motel room, but not for any of the usual reasons a man and woman usually come to a place like this.”
Tess felt faint heat touch her cheeks. He was trying to get her off balance, she thought in chagrin. He was succeeding, and although she didn’t really understand why his dismissive reference to a sexual tryst should make her color up like an embarrassed schoolgirl, if he got the impression his captor wasn’t as tough as she was pretending to be, he might begin to wonder if she’d really use the gun she’d been holding on him.
She’d been wondering that, too.
“You sound disappointed.” She allowed a thin smile to curve her lips. “That we’re not here for the usual reasons, I mean. I should have guessed a man who dresses the way you do would have a social agenda that revolved around cheap motel rooms.”
His answering smile was just as controlled as hers. “And I should have guessed that a woman who dreams up stories about Bigfoot wouldn’t have any trouble fantasizing about my sex life. Good thing we’ll never actually do the dirty together for real, honey. I doubt I’d be able to measure up to what you’ve probably been imagining about me.”
Outrage flickered swiftly through her. “Believe me, my imagination wasn’t coming up with anything very exciting,” she retorted. “In fact, I was probably giving you too much credit. I seriously doubt you have a social life at all.”
She tipped her head to one side. “Let’s see how close I get, okay? The job’s your life. You live in a one-bedroom apartment, and you’ve never bothered buying more than a bed and maybe a couch. You don’t have any pictures up on the wall, and those walls are whatever color the previous tenant left them. Am I warm?”
He didn’t answer her. Turning her back to him, she rummaged around in her purse for the sleeping pills she was going to have to force him to take. She went on, trying to mask her sudden apprehension with abrasiveness.
“You’ve got six other white shirts just like the one you’re wearing now—short-sleeved and polyester, because they’re practical and you don’t care how you look as long as you’re presentable. You don’t know the names of your co-workers’ spouses. You volunteer to work Christmas. You get to the gym at least three times a week. Did I miss anything?”
“Just that I always carry a spare key for my handcuffs.”
His voice came from directly behind her. Spinning around in shock, she saw crystal-gray eyes looking coldly down on her, saw the automatic she’d taken from him at the diner firmly gripped in one big hand.
“Aside from that, I’d say you were dead-on, lady,” he said harshly. “So seeing as you know me so well, this part shouldn’t be a surprise, either.”
Even as Tess’s lips parted in a gasp, Virgil Connor’s mouth came down hard on hers.
Chapter Three
It wasn’t a kiss. It was a storm, a hurricane, a lightning strike that immediately shorted out every last electrical impulse in all her nerve endings at once, but it wasn’t a kiss. Virgil Connor didn’t know how to kiss, Tess thought disjointedly. He probably didn’t know how to make love. All the man knew was raw sex.
But he knew everything there was to know about that.
One big hand was spread wide against the back of her head. His other arm was hanging loosely at his side. He was making it clear that if she wanted to she could pull away from him easily enough.
She swayed toward him. Connor shifted his stance automatically, his hand spreading wider and his fingers beginning to slide through her hair as he moved in closer. Through her own half-closed lashes she saw his—dark and thick, drifting down to shut off that brilliant gray gaze.
Suddenly she felt him stiffen. He lifted his head and took a step back, his hand falling from her.
Tess blinked. The next moment appalled horror raced through her, and she took a stumbling step backward herself. Something flashed behind the mirrored gray of his eyes. A muscle moved tightly at the side of his jaw as he spoke.
“That’s one for the books.” His tone was flat and dead. “You’d better report me for this when they take you in. I won’t contest your statement.”
Her mouth felt so swollen and hot she had the impulse to bring her fingertips to her lips. “Why?” Her voice came out in a croak. She tried again, putting more force behind her words. “Why did you do that?”
“I don’t know. But it won’t happen again.” He began to turn away. “I’m going to call my area director and have him send someone to escort—”
“No!” Incautious fury spilled through her at his dismissal of the situation he’d created. She grabbed his arm, noticing as she spun him back to face her that the muscle beneath her grip was rigidly hard. “You’re going to tell me what just happened here, for God’s sake!”
Suddenly remembering Joey, she cast a swiftly contrite glance in the direction of the bed. He was obviously too deeply asleep for anything short of an earthquake to rouse him, but she lowered her tone nonetheless.
“Is it how you get off, Agent Connor?” With a shaky hand she pushed a stray curve of hair off her cheek. “Do you try something like this with all of