My Tye Page 8

She looked to their hands and nodded again. “I scrambled over to the side door, jumped out and just ran. I didn’t even look where I was going. Not until I saw a building with lights. I headed toward that, but I don’t remember getting there.”

  “Pete’s place.”

  “Yeah, must’ve been.”

  When she withdrew her hand and placed it gingerly over the bandage at her temple and closed her eyes, he knew she’d had enough. He didn’t get all his questions answered—namely the one regarding where she’d been—but that was okay. For now. He had other ways of finding out for sure where the attack had taken place, but right now his top priority was to have her rest. Still holding one of her hands, he stood, tugging on it gently to both get her attention and have her follow him.

  “Come on. Let’s get you in the house.”

  She groaned. The delicate sound was both low and breathy, and despite feeling like he was ready to explode, he smiled a little at her not wanting to move.

  “Can’t I just stay here?”

  “You could, but I promise that you’ll be way more comfortable inside.”

  He helped her stand, keeping one arm around her as they made their way to the front door. She fit so perfectly there, under his arm and by his side. The realization speared him more than he ever thought something like that would.

  He threw open the screen and unlocked the door before ushering her inside. “It’s this way. You can take my room, I’ll bunk in the spare.”

  “I can’t shove you out of your own room, Tye.”

  “You’re not shoving me out of anywhere. I’m offering my room. It has a bigger bed and a way softer mattress than the one in the spare room. I just want you to rest, and it’s the best place I have in the house for you to do that. So not another word.”

  The look she tossed up at him had him trying to decide whether to grin again or frown a little.

  “You’re bossy,” she said.

  “I’m practical,” he retorted, throwing his Stetson onto the living room couch before leading her down the hallway.

  In a move that surprised him, she rested her head against his chest. “Bossy’s not always such a bad thing, you know. Sometimes people need to be bossed. Or controlled. Or…”

  She left that last hanging, which damn near killed him. He wanted to ask, “Or what?” but he didn’t. Instead, he steered her into his bedroom and over to his disheveled bed.

  Before he had the chance to tell her he wanted to change the sheets, she crawled into the bed and curled herself around the few pillows he’d strewn about when he left in a rush last night. The sight of her lying there on his bed and the way her dark hair contrasted with the pale blue sheets, combined with the way she closed her eyes and the sigh she slowly let out…

  He swallowed once, then again, struggling to keep his composure. Struggling to keep himself from climbing in there with her. “Wait a sec, let me at least put on a clean set of sheets.”

  “Mmm, no, it’s okay,” she said, not even opening her eyes or glancing up. “This is fine. Better than fine. These sheets, they smell…”

  Well, yeah. The last time he changed them had probably been…

  “Like you,” she finished.

  Okay, that wasn’t what he expected her to say. Still, he liked that she did. Liked it enough that he had to force himself to leave the room to allow her to rest. He had some business to take care of, business that would never get done if he stood here and let his feelings and reactions get the better of him. He may want nothing more than to crawl into that bed beside her and hold her to keep her safe, but he also knew doing that wouldn’t readily solve the issue at hand.

  With one last glance at her snuggled in his bed, he let the door hang slightly ajar and crossed the hallway into his home office. Once he sat in the chair behind his desk, he gave himself a moment to just…God, breathe. He felt like he hadn’t had the chance to since the phone rang and woke him last night. He had so many thoughts and images and what-ifs and who-the-fucks running through his mind, and he hated that. Hated not being in control.

  His control defined him, defined who he was. And Laine Morgan had the power to send ripples of chaos over what was normally his even-keeled demeanor. If that chaos only uprooted his libido, shit, he’d be all for it. Hell, he might even like it. But her, hurt and in danger, being threatened and stalked? He wouldn’t stand for that. He couldn’t.

  He reached inside his pocket, dug out his smart phone and opened the mapping program. When he keyed in the cross streets she’d mentioned earlier and the location popped up in full color on the screen, the breath he’d just taken turned into ice inside his lungs.

  Club Euphoria was a block and half away from where she said she’d been parked.

  Not again, he thought. Don’t let this start again.

  Closing the map and opening his contacts, he scrolled down the list of names until he reached the one he needed, then tapped Send. The line was answered a split second after the first ring.

  “McKay.”

  “Hey, Jack. It’s Tye.”

  “Tye. What’s up?”

  No point in beating around the bush. “Wanted to check with you about an assault that took place last night. A woman was found beaten and unconscious, lying next to the dumpster outside Pete’s Tavern around one a.m. The victim is Laine Morgan, Lake County’s Public Defender. You know her?”

  The muttered “fuck” coming from the other end of the line drove a knife straight into Tye’s gut.

  “I take it you do.”

  There was a heavy moment of nothing. Then a quiet, “We’ve met.”

  “Where?” The hesitant silence wasn’t a good sign, so Tye pushed forward. “I’m not playing games here, Mac. I have to know. Was it at the club? Was she there last night?”

  The sigh part-time Club Euphoria manager and full-time Samson County Sheriff Jack McKay let out went a long way in answering the question for him.

  “You know I can’t just up and answer that.”

  Tye figured he’d say that, and at any other time he’d respect the man’s reluctance to divulge private club information. But not this time. “This is me, Jack. Based on the fact she was brutally attacked…” Tye propped an elbow on the desk and rested his forehead in his hand. “You can either cut the bullshit and just tell me, or I can go the legal route and take your records into evidence.”

  “Jesus, Tye. Don’t get all procedural on me. Our privacy policy—”

  “Fuck your privacy policy,” Tye bit out, slapping his hand on the desktop. “This goes beyond that. This is about a woman who could’ve been killed.”

  “The way you’re jumping all over me, I have to wonder if that’s all there is to it.”

  Tye liked Jack McKay, always had. But the other man was this fucking close to pissing him off even more than he already was. Tye didn’t have very many buttons, and pushing the ones he did have was never a good idea. “You know damn well it is.”

  “I don’t know anything, Sheriff Carter.” Tye knew the use of his title was more than intentional. “Nothing other than what little you’ve just thrown at me,” Mac said calmly.

  It was how Mac so easily let Tye’s title roll off his tongue, coupled with his well-known calmness, that knocked Tye down a notch or two. It told him that maybe, just maybe, Tye was the one getting a bit out of hand here and not his old friend on the opposite end of the phone. Being riled and not staying on an even keel in order to get all the pertinent details never helped solve a thing, Tye certainly knew that. And with that knowledge blasting some sense into him, he flopped back in his seat and ran a hand through his hair.

  “Shit. I know. And I’m… It’s just…” God save him from incoherent rambling. “I need to know if she was there or not.”

  Tye heard a car door close on the other end of the line. “The drift I’m getting is that your need to know runs more personally than professionally. And in my experience, a cockeyed balance like that makes for some dangerous decision-making.”

&nbs
p; Tye sighed. “I’m not going to do anything stupid.”

  “Huh,” Mac grunted. “Famous last words. Did you ask her where she was?”

  “Of course I did.”

  “And?” Mac prompted.

  “She said she was parked at the corner of Rogers and Tinley in Carson. She drives an Audi, Mac. A little white A4. There might be prints on it, something.”

  “I’m on it. I’ll bring it in and have my guys go over it.”

  “Good, thanks,” Tye said.

  “How bad is she hurt?” Mac asked, quieter now.

  Tye closed his eyes and shifted the phone to his other hand. “Bad enough.”

  Another sigh and another foul word sounded over the phone line. “Tell me what happened.”

  Tye fought like hell to flip that internal switch that let him shift into cop mode. “Honestly, I was counting on you to help me figure that out. She was attacked somewhere around your club, I’m sure of it now. She told me, in detail, everything that happened while her attacker held her, but she’s having a hard time telling me exactly where she was when it happened. With the location she gave me and the way you tossed up that privacy policy so fast, you’ve pretty much confirmed that for me.”

  “Goddamn it, Tye.”

  “Yeah, well. Just wait, it gets worse. This perp has the same MO as the asshole who attacked all those women before. Thank God this time Laine was able to get away before any of the really bad shit happened.”

  “Wait, she got away? She wasn’t dumped?” There was a level of relief to Mac’s voice that Tye hadn’t ever heard before. “Hot damn.”

  Tye agreed, and let his own voice showcase the pride he felt in that. “She stabbed the fucker, Mac. Straight through his shoulder with a long-shafted screwdriver.” But as he went on to inform Mac of the break-in to her house and the grisly scene he’d found in her bedroom, his pride shifted right back into concerned territory. “He’s after her, no doubt in my mind.”

  “She’s with you?”

  “At the ranch.”

  Mac didn’t say anything to that.

  “Do me a favor and check on the man who was convicted before,” Tye continued. “Is he still in prison, does he have anyone close to him who might be willing to pick up where he left off?”

  “His name isn’t one that I’ve seen come across my desk as a prisoner release, and trust me when I say that Jeffrey Perry is a name I won’t likely ever forget. I’d lay a hundred to one odds that we’ve got someone new on our hands, but I’ll confirm that as soon as I get in the office.”

  Someone new was the direction Tye had been leaning toward as well. “We can’t let this start again. Jesus, Mac.”

  “Did she get a look at the guy? Any telling features? I remember Perry had at least two tattoos. One of them was a spider web, if memory serves. Had the thing inked on the back of his right hand.”

  “I’ll ask about the tattoos. Maybe something like that will jar her memory. When she gave me his description, all she said was that he had covered himself from head to toe in black and wore a ski cap and a scarf over his face. She also told me he had a scar running across his eye.”

  “Perry didn’t have a scar like that. He could’ve picked one up in prison, I suppose. I’ll check on that too,” Mac stated. “How’s she coping?”

  “As well as she can. She’s got the same rope burns on her neck, wrists and ankles as the women from before.” God, the way those women had suffered. “Along with that, she’s got an eye that’s going to turn a helluva shade of purple and a fairly deep gash along her hairline. She’s also dealing with a mild concussion.”

  “I hate this for her,” Mac said then. “But I have to ask, is she… Are you and she…”

  Tye knew what he was getting at. “She’s not. Mine, I mean. I didn’t even know…” He cleared his throat. “I never picked up on it, Jack. That she might be into the lifestyle.”

  “Maybe she’s not.”

  That sounded pretty fucking cryptic. “Meaning?”

  “Look, you want my advice? Just go easy with her. She’s a smart woman who knows what she wants. Now all she has to do is find it.”

  Tye cursed the near physical cramp tightening his stomach at the thought that Jack McKay might know Laine better than he did. To hell with the fact that there was no other man he may trust as much, or no other man he’d be remotely comfortable with her trusting. That didn’t matter. The knowledge still stung in places he didn’t want to think about.

  “Yeah, okay. I’ll just, um…I’ll just send over her official statement, the info she gave me on the van and anything new that might come up. I’ve already had Steve from SBI check out the area where we found her as well as the scene inside her house. I’ll let you know what he comes back with as well.”

  “Sounds good. And I’ll do some searching on my end too. In the meantime, take care of her. Or you’ll have me to deal with.”

  Tye’s first reaction to hearing something like that would normally be to toss out a nasty fuck you, but with the history he and Jack shared, and those women they both helped before, he knew the words were said out of concern for Laine and the severity of this new situation, not because he truly believed Tye wouldn’t do his job.

  “Don’t be a dick. You know I will,” he said, staring out his office window as if the answers to all his problems might blow right on past before heading out into the pasture. Wouldn’t it be nice if they did, so he could go out there, corral them all up and save the day with a quick fix to everything.

  Unfortunately, nothing was ever that easy.

  “Yeah, I know,” Mac said. “I’m pulling up to the office now, so let me get to work on this. We’re gonna get the guy, Tye. Nip this fucker right in the bud.”

  “We have to,” was all Tye said.

  “Later, then.”

  Tye tapped End on his phone, tossed it on top of his desk and ran his hands down his face. A hefty dose of exhaustion had somehow snuck up on him, but there was no way he’d be able to doze off now, not even if he tried. His conversation with Mac did little to ease all the shit rolling around in Tye’s head, in fact, it had only made him that much more troubled.

  He didn’t know how he felt about Mac’s unspoken confirmation that Laine had gone to Club Euphoria. But as he sat there, soaking in the truth, he realized that was a lie. He knew, damn it. He felt the battle between anger and happiness eat away at him as each second ticked by. Anger at himself on so many levels—that he’d never picked up on her desires, that he’d wasted so much time. But it was the happiness flowing through him that made him suddenly feel like hell.

  She was hurt, and the one thought taking spotlight in his brain was how he may have finally found the one person he was meant to be with. He lived knowing that the old adage opposites attract was a bunch of bullshit. He’d never found the one woman who shared his sexual preferences, to whom he felt connected on other levels outside the bedroom. And any woman he might’ve met here or there throughout the years who he did feel those other connections with? The moment he became up-front and told all with them, well, they didn’t want too much to do with him after that.

  Story of his life. Maybe now was his chance to rewrite it all.

  That thought gave him the push he needed to drag his ass out of the chair. Some fresh air would do him good, give him a chance to settle his thoughts so they weren’t spinning out of control. Besides, he needed to head out to the stables to check on Flash and Rocky, to feed up since he couldn’t get out there to do it this morning.

  But first he wanted to check on Laine. He quietly moved out into the hallway and snuck up to his bedroom door to peek through the crack. Sleeping, thank goodness. He hoped she wasn’t having one of those nightmares like before. With any luck, their frequency and intensity would ease off. He hated thinking about the long haul toward recovery she had in front of her, and nightmares like that would only make her healing all the more difficult.

  All he could do was be there for her, take his cues from he
r and move on from there. That, and catch the asshole who did this and put him away for so long she’d never have to worry about him again.

  Piece of fucking cake, more on the first count than on the second.

  Forcing himself to turn away from the door, he grabbed his Stetson and made his way outside to the front porch where he stopped to just stand there a moment. The day had turned warm but not oppressive, and a handful of clouds dotted the sky. At any other time, he’d consider a day like this—one that boasted great weather while Laine lay curled up in his bed—to be a perfect one. Current circumstances, however, had him thinking a bit differently.

  He jumped down the steps, glancing over to the paddock where his two geldings were roaming about. They spotted him coming before he could get more than five feet away from the porch. He smiled a little as they nipped at one another, each trying to make it inside the stables and into their stall first, and both of them trying to get in there before Tye did.

  By the time he pulled open the stable door, they were already whinnying. And as he disappeared into the feed room, they both started stomping inside their stalls.

  “Okay, okay. Give me a second here,” Tye said, talking more to himself than to either Flash or Rocky.

  Flash got his hay first, which had Rocky snorting out his impatience before he got his. Next came scoops of oats for each of them. Before Tye had the chance to turn around and fill up their water buckets, the two had settled down to munch away on their feed. He loved times like this with them, and figured he might as well take advantage of the ten or fifteen minutes where they were actually holding still. Grabbing a brush, he headed back into Flash’s stall.

  He started at the paint horse’s mane, smoothing the brush down his black neck and over the white spots along his shoulder. Ripples scurried under his skin, yet the gelding paid no attention to Tye or the brushing. All his concentration was focused on that oat bucket, which was just fine with Tye. For the moment, the methodical brushing was the only thing that interested him as well. He wanted to take his mind off the rest, but damn if he was having any such luck. Every thought he had wound its way back to Laine. And to the club.