his legs didn’t change. “Could mean nothing. Could be some teenager staking out his crush, working up the courage to ask her out.”
Ten more seconds of walking and Tag offered him a dry smile. “How many teenagers you know that look like they’re forty?”
Tag had a point. The guy behind the wheel had left his teenage years long behind. And damn, with the exception of the windshield, the windows were all tinted.
“You want to call Rio?” Tag asked.
They took a few more casual steps while Lucas thought that over. What exactly could Rio do? Haul him in for questioning? On what grounds? The guy wasn’t exactly trespassing, parked along the side of the road like that. He could simply claim he’d pulled over in a quiet neighborhood to eat lunch.
Then the guy lifted a fifth of whiskey and took a long, hard pull. Okay, Rio could haul in in on the open container—but still. Hell, they didn’t even know if he was one of the bastards after Emma.
“I’ve got a better idea,” Lucas said, shooting Tag a grin that showed most of his teeth. He abruptly turned, walking back the way they’d come. With luck they hadn’t scared the bastard off. “Let’s give him some rope. See what he does with it.”
“What are you thinking?” Tag asked, easily keeping pace.
“If he isn’t involved, no sense in harassing him. But if he’s one of those bastards from the van, I’ve got some questions for him. He ain’t getting to Emma.” He’d make damn sure of that. “But it won’t hurt to give him a look at where we stashed her.”
Tag’s crooked smile was buoyant, full of anticipation. “You think he’ll follow us home?”
Wouldn’t that be nice?
“If he does, we’ll know he’s one of them. If he’s stupid, he and his half-assed buddies will try to get to her.”
His stride increasing, as though he couldn’t wait for the fun to begin, Tag shot him an admiring look. “That’s one way to get around the Posse Comitatus Act.”
Exactly. The cops could hardly blame them for defending themselves, and safe guarding their home. And while the boys in blue raced to their rescue, they’d sit Emma’s attackers down for a heart to heart…with maybe a couple of fists to the face to speed up the confession.
* * *
E mma glanced around her trashed bedroom. At least they were making progress, although it was taking forever since her pace was snail slow these days.
“Ah, Miss…I can’t let you do that.” The slow to smile, far too serious young man Tag had introduced as Milly stepped forward to ease the laundry basket from Emma’s hands.
Her fingers tightened around the plastic grip, which was stupid, stupid, stupid according to her abraded, disgruntled hands. They took Milly’s side with stinging vengeance, forcing her to let go.
“I’m perfectly capable of doing something ,” Emma said, lifting her chin, even though her knees and hands, and well…every inch of her body violently disagreed.
She hadn’t thought her body could hurt any worse than it had the night before. Unfortunately, she’d been wrong. The pain killers Tag had given her, after they’d administered Cuddles’s shot, had gotten her through the night. But she’d woken barely able to move. A glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen had been sitting on the bedside table. She wanted to believe that Tag had been the angel who’d left the painkillers, but Cuddles hadn’t barked. The lack of barking indicated her angel had been someone the dog had acclimatized to…which meant Lucas.
The thought of Lucas standing there, watching her sleep…a shudder worked its way through her body. But it wasn’t one of discomfort, more like sexual titillation. Lucas had primed her for early morning erotic escapades, she just hadn’t had a chance to indulge in them lately.
If it hadn’t been for Cuddles, Emma would have stayed in bed all day. But the dog needed her insulin, which was in the kitchen, which meant getting up. The living room and kitchen
Ten more seconds of walking and Tag offered him a dry smile. “How many teenagers you know that look like they’re forty?”
Tag had a point. The guy behind the wheel had left his teenage years long behind. And damn, with the exception of the windshield, the windows were all tinted.
“You want to call Rio?” Tag asked.
They took a few more casual steps while Lucas thought that over. What exactly could Rio do? Haul him in for questioning? On what grounds? The guy wasn’t exactly trespassing, parked along the side of the road like that. He could simply claim he’d pulled over in a quiet neighborhood to eat lunch.
Then the guy lifted a fifth of whiskey and took a long, hard pull. Okay, Rio could haul in in on the open container—but still. Hell, they didn’t even know if he was one of the bastards after Emma.
“I’ve got a better idea,” Lucas said, shooting Tag a grin that showed most of his teeth. He abruptly turned, walking back the way they’d come. With luck they hadn’t scared the bastard off. “Let’s give him some rope. See what he does with it.”
“What are you thinking?” Tag asked, easily keeping pace.
“If he isn’t involved, no sense in harassing him. But if he’s one of those bastards from the van, I’ve got some questions for him. He ain’t getting to Emma.” He’d make damn sure of that. “But it won’t hurt to give him a look at where we stashed her.”
Tag’s crooked smile was buoyant, full of anticipation. “You think he’ll follow us home?”
Wouldn’t that be nice?
“If he does, we’ll know he’s one of them. If he’s stupid, he and his half-assed buddies will try to get to her.”
His stride increasing, as though he couldn’t wait for the fun to begin, Tag shot him an admiring look. “That’s one way to get around the Posse Comitatus Act.”
Exactly. The cops could hardly blame them for defending themselves, and safe guarding their home. And while the boys in blue raced to their rescue, they’d sit Emma’s attackers down for a heart to heart…with maybe a couple of fists to the face to speed up the confession.
* * *
E mma glanced around her trashed bedroom. At least they were making progress, although it was taking forever since her pace was snail slow these days.
“Ah, Miss…I can’t let you do that.” The slow to smile, far too serious young man Tag had introduced as Milly stepped forward to ease the laundry basket from Emma’s hands.
Her fingers tightened around the plastic grip, which was stupid, stupid, stupid according to her abraded, disgruntled hands. They took Milly’s side with stinging vengeance, forcing her to let go.
“I’m perfectly capable of doing something ,” Emma said, lifting her chin, even though her knees and hands, and well…every inch of her body violently disagreed.
She hadn’t thought her body could hurt any worse than it had the night before. Unfortunately, she’d been wrong. The pain killers Tag had given her, after they’d administered Cuddles’s shot, had gotten her through the night. But she’d woken barely able to move. A glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen had been sitting on the bedside table. She wanted to believe that Tag had been the angel who’d left the painkillers, but Cuddles hadn’t barked. The lack of barking indicated her angel had been someone the dog had acclimatized to…which meant Lucas.
The thought of Lucas standing there, watching her sleep…a shudder worked its way through her body. But it wasn’t one of discomfort, more like sexual titillation. Lucas had primed her for early morning erotic escapades, she just hadn’t had a chance to indulge in them lately.
If it hadn’t been for Cuddles, Emma would have stayed in bed all day. But the dog needed her insulin, which was in the kitchen, which meant getting up. The living room and kitchen
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