The front door opened, and here she came. His hand twitched, the pistol burning in his boot.
“Dean?” Her footsteps approached. “What are you doing here?”
Oh, great. She fucking knew the guy. Probably worked with him. Another admirer?
He clenched his jaw.
She walked past Tomas, circling far out of his reach as if she weren’t limping from the ramming of his cock. That was when he saw her duffel bag clutched tightly in her fist.
So she’d grabbed her shit and intended to leave with this douchebag. Clever girl.
Unless Detective Dean Hodge was compromised.
Tomas didn’t know if she was in danger, but if she was, everyone was a suspect.
Tension flared beneath his skin, but he kept his expression relaxed and voice calm. “Who reported her missing?”
“Missing?” She turned to him, mouth open in shock, and looked back to the detective. “I’m not missing, Dean. Who said I was?”
Now would’ve been the time for her to blurt the details of her captivity, but she didn’t utter a word of it. Even stranger, she’d pulled on a jacket while in the house, hiding the abuse inflicted upon her body.
“Your ex-husband.” Dean gave her a once-over, lingering on her mouth. What the fuck? “He said you disappeared four days ago.”
“Try ten years ago. That’s the beauty of divorce.” She cocked her hip. “He doesn’t get to know where I am or what I’m doing.” She narrowed her eyes. “How did you find me?”
“We put out an alert two days ago. Got an anonymous call that you were spotted here.”
Suspicion snaked through Tomas’ veins. Either Dean was lying or someone was using him to get to Rylee, whether to deliver a message to her, pull her out of here, or something else entirely.
Everything about this felt off.
Her empty expression revealed nothing. Frozen, she stared at Dean’s vehicle. What was she thinking? Escape, most likely.
“Rylee? Is everything okay?” Dean stepped toward her and touched her arm. “How do you know this man? Where’s your truck?”
She could tell him everything, just lay out all the gory details right now. The detective would try to arrest him, and he would be forced to shoot or flee in the Jeep. He really didn’t want to kill an innocent guy. But what if Dean knew more than he was letting on?
“Tomas is just a friend I met in town.” She blew out a breath and hauled the duffel bag over her shoulder. “My truck broke down. Mind if I catch a ride?”
Rylee’s pulse sputtered frantically as she hobbled toward Dean’s truck, sore and uncertain. She was making a decision that not only risked her life but that of her colleague.
Nothing was stopping Tommy from drawing that gun in his boot and shooting them both. But if she let this opportunity slip away, if she stayed here another day, he would continue to starve her and poison her mind.
She’d turned into something she didn’t recognize today and grudge-fucked him in the desert. But that didn’t make the grudge go away. No amount of sex—no matter how huge the cock—could erase the three days she spent in the heat without water.
Or the cruelty in his eyes as he ate that bowl of chili in front of her.
Or the dozens of other vicious acts he’d committed against her since she arrived.
She needed distance from him to think, figure out who was watching her, and talk to her nuisance of an ex-husband. Why in the hell would Mason report her missing?
Something didn’t add up.
Dean followed her without comment, probably confused by her boldness in requesting a ride. She’d made a habit of avoiding all her male colleagues, coming across as a guarded, unapproachable bitch. She was there to work, not get laid.
Early on, she’d learned that something as innocent as eye contact often led to a wrong impression, which led to unwanted attention and harassment. So she kept her head down and avoided, avoided, avoided.
Which was why she had no friends.
As she reached the passenger door of his truck, the space between her shoulders itched.
She turned her neck. Their gazes locked. The desert held its breath.
They stared at each other with a familiarity, an intimacy that hadn’t been there before. The voltage, the sparks, the unwanted chemistry that had been present from the beginning was there, too. But it hadn’t grown into trust. Not even a little.
Someone knew she was here, and Tommy believed she was working with this person. She was under no delusions that sex had changed his opinion. If anything, he thought even less of her now.
She needed to get out of here.
Without looking away, she opened the passenger door.
His eyes narrowed to slits, his knees slowly bending as he reached to pluck the pistol from his boot.
Dean climbed into the truck, oblivious.
Panic spiked, and she subtly shook her head at Tommy, begging him with her eyes.
Don’t shoot him. He’s an innocent man.
He went still, scowling at her. Even at this distance, she felt his murderous fury. It competed with the desert heat, blistering her skin and watering her eyes.
She forced her legs to move, stepping into the truck, her nerves on tenterhooks, shaking with the rush of her breaths.
He didn’t move as she closed the door. Didn’t draw his gun as Dean started the truck and drove away.
Angling her neck, she stared at the side mirror, expecting Tommy to chase or shoot. But he was nowhere in sight.
She held her breath until she could no longer see the house, until she was confident they were out of bullet range.
Then she dropped her head back and released a sigh of relief.
That had been too easy.
He’d let her go.
“You just met that guy?” Dean glanced at her and returned to the unpaved terrain.
“Yeah.”
“Doesn’t seem like it. I mean, the way he was looking at you…”
She didn’t owe him an explanation. “Thanks for the ride.”
His hand clenched on the steering wheel. “What’s wrong with your truck?”
“Don’t know.” She cut her eyes at him. “Why was there an alert put out on me? Did you not ask around first? My neighbor would’ve told you where I was.”
“Evan Phillips? Yeah, I talked to him. He said you were acting strangely and left. Couldn’t tell us your whereabouts. His statement didn’t inject a lot of confidence in your safety.”
“Ridiculous.” She balled her hands on her lap. “I told him I was going to the desert for a much-needed vacation.”
“A vacation with a man you just met?” His tone grated with judgment.
“You’re crossing the line, Dean.”
“All I’m saying is you should be more careful. That guy was putting off some serious hostile vibes, and I don’t like the way he was looking at you.”
“Like what?” she snapped impatiently. “How was he looking at me?”
“Like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to hug you, fuck you, or throttle your neck. He definitely didn’t want you to leave.”
Perceptive man. He wouldn’t be good at his job if he wasn’t.
She pulled the collar of the jacket against her bruised throat.
“He was fun for a few nights,” she said, at the risk of ruining her reputation. “But I need to get back to my truck.”