Bounty (Walk the Right Road) (19 page)

Sam snapped the door open and held the edge of it with his hand. He hesitated as if gathering his nerve to say something, but he wouldn’t look at her, just nodded and stepped out the door, leaving her feeling even lower than before. It was as if being with Zac had made her a tart or something. That was exactly what she had picked up from Sam, and she didn’t like it one bit.

The silence that was left in the room lingered, and the seconds ticked by at a snail’s pace. Zac cleared his throat, and Diane gave him that same stiff smile and said, “Goodnight, Zac.”

He glanced away, his expression shutting down as he stiffened. He grabbed his jacket, pulled the door open. Diane stared at his chest, refusing to meet his eyes, cupping her hands across her breasts and feeling an ache rip through her as if she’d done something wrong. Was it shame, all of because of sex? Or almost sex, anyway.

“Diane, look at me.”

She glanced up at him, willing away all emotion from her face. “Yes, Zac?”

He frowned and then shook his head as he stepped toward her, touching her face. She slapped his hand away, and he didn’t blink, but he did pull back and leave. The door closed in her face, and she listened to his footsteps as he walked away. Diane was alone again, this time filled with a horrible emptiness.

Diane’s head felt like lead as a pounding on the door brought her bolting upright. She’d been asleep, maybe, she thought. Diane dragged her fingers over her closed eyelids, wiping the grit from the corners. She was so tired. After all, she’d tossed and turned most of the night, flicking the TV on and off, anything to take her mind from the dark places it was going. She tossed back the covers and opened the curtains, the bright sun streaming in, leaving her blinking.

“Diane, open the door,” Zac said as he pounded again, and she pulled it open, realizing as he stared at her in her nightshirt that she should have pulled on her coat first. “You okay?” he asked as he stepped in, and Diane went back to the bed and sat on the edge, yawning.

“Just tired. What time is it, anyway?”

“After nine. I thought you would have been ready.” He shut the door and pulled open the drapes to let the sun in. “I got us some wheels. Got my gun back, too, from Deputy Wally. You’ve got time for a quick shower, and then we’ve got to go.”

She stared at him and couldn’t get over how fresh he looked, clean and tidy as if he had no worries. Then she noticed how he stood off to the side and glanced casually out the window. He wandered over to the window on the other side of the door and peeked out the corner of the still closed drapes before letting them fall back.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

He just shook his head. “No. Come on, get in the shower. I’ll order coffee and breakfast sandwiches for us to go.” He grabbed her room key and slipped out.

She stared at the closed door, wondering what that was about, and then stumbled into the bathroom and flicked on the shower. She realized that unless she wanted to give Zac an eyeful, she’d better bring her clothes with her, since he had taken her key and was obviously planning to let himself in.

She rummaged in her bag for clean underwear, a t-shirt, and jeans before shutting the bathroom door. She stood under the hot spray, lingering for a minute, willing it to wake her and clear the cobwebs from her head. She heard the door close when she shut off the water.

A knock sounded at the bathroom door. “Diane, rock and roll. Come on.”

“I’m coming,” she said. “It’s not as if all of us had a great sleep last night,” she muttered under her breath.

“What was that?” he said.

She gasped, wondering if his hearing was that good. “Nothing. I’ll be right out.”

She toweled off, irritated that he found it so easy to brush off what had happened between them, or rather what had almost happened between them. Hell, it was as if he’d forgotten the entire romp, and Diane had to blink back the sting in her eyes, fighting to shift her thoughts to something else. Was she that forgettable? She tossed the towel in the bathtub and refused to look at her naked body. Her thighs were solid, not flabby, but they weren’t toothpicks, either. Her butt was average, her waistline was there, she had a slightly rounded belly, and her breasts were an average size 34-B, nothing spectacular. Maybe she was forgettable.

She pulled on her clothes, ran a brush through her damp hair, and then brushed her teeth. She pulled open the bathroom door, and her gaze immediately went to Zac leaning against the frame, sipping coffee from a paper cup. His dark eyes revealed nothing as he took in all of her, and she had to remind herself to breathe.

Diane grabbed her bag and tossed it on the bed, stuffing every loose item she had in it. She zipped it up and then glanced around at the king-size bed, the rumpled pillows and bedding strewn everywhere. Her sidearm was on the nightstand, and she clipped it on. She could feel Zac watching every move she made, but she didn’t have the courage just yet to look at him. She pulled on her jean jacket and then lifted her bag. “Ready.”

He was blocking the door, still holding his coffee and looking mighty uncomfortable. What was that about?

She cleared her throat and gestured to a coffee sitting on the corner table with a paper bag. “Is that mine?” she asked.

“Your breakfast, too.”

“Cool. What do I owe you?” She refused to look at him as she looped the strap of her bag over her shoulder and strode to the table, grabbing the coffee and the paper bag. When she faced Zac, he was staring at her with a fire burning in his eyes, and she wondered if he was considering slipping his hands around her throat and squeezing. Whoa. “Are you okay? Because we should get going,” Diane said in a voice laced with a heavy amount of lightness.

He set his coffee down and stalked toward her. Diane felt her heart hammering in her chest the closer he approached, and she lifted her coffee and breakfast bag in front of her and held it close. She was determined to stand her ground, fighting every basic instinct to step back. He put his hands on her shoulders and held her close. Then he leaned in and kissed her in a deep, open-mouth kiss, his tongue dipping in as if he had every right, and he kissed her deeply before pulling away. Her mouth gaped, and all she managed was a squeak. Not one intelligent word would pass her lips, and he smiled slowly as if he’d just proven a point. Then, in a move that had him looking extremely happy, he strode to the door, pulling it open as Diane stood gaping at him like an idiot.

Diane ate her breakfast sandwich and drank her coffee from the passenger seat of the dark green luxury sedan. She ignored Zac or tried to, at least, as he seemed lost in thought and more than happy to let her stew in silence. Well, two could play that game. Diane was the queen of stewing, holding on to things forever. She wondered for a moment, as she stared out the window at the heavy trees and miles of highway, who would crack first. She’d replayed that kiss over and over, trying to figure out what the hell Zac was about.

“Here’s the border. Get your ID out,” Zac said as he slowed behind the cars stopped at the crossing.

Diane took it in. She remembered all too well crossing this border with Jack that night, but so much had changed. It was newer now, with a canopy that extended over three lanes. Even the buildings there, she didn’t remember seeing them before. It appeared busier, far different than it had been a lifetime ago, except sitting in a line, waiting their turn, was the same.

Diane shut her eyes, going back to that night so long ago, when she’d sat on the bench of Jack’s pickup, wearing that old, cotton dress. Her long hair was a tangled mess because she’d leaped from bed and fled before getting a chance to run a brush through her hair and braid it neatly, as she had done every day. She had stared and worried as the man dressed like a cop came closer. When it was their turn, Jack had rolled down his window, and all she remembered was the fear, her heart pounding as she held her breath. The man had looked in, glanced her way, and Jack said, “My daughter and I are going home. We were visiting my sister in Creston.” He’d showed his ID, and the man had looked at her again. Maybe it was the plea in her eyes or something else he saw, but he had nodded and said, “Go on through. Welcome to the USA, Mister Larsen.” And Jack had started his vehicle and driven right on through.

“Diane.” Zac touched her arm, and she realized she was gripping her shirtfront, breathing so fast her heart was racing as she blinked back that memory. “They need ID. Are you okay?”

He rolled his window down. She couldn’t answer; her hand was shaking as she pulled out her badge, and the customs officer leaned down and rested his hands on Zac’s open window. Zac showed his ID with the coroner’s office, and Diane leaned over and flashed her badge. “I’m a detective with the Sequim detachment,” she explained.

“Where are you folks headed?” The customs officer glanced in the backseat and then between Zac and Diane.

“Just across the border to Bounty,” Zac said.

“Carrying any weapons?” the officer asked.

“My sidearm.” Diane opened her jacket.

“I have a nine millimeter I’m licensed for,” Zac said.

The customs officer jabbed his thumb to a covered area. “I want you to pull over there and get out of the vehicle.” The guy moved away and walked beside the vehicle, directing Zac where to park.

Zac glanced at Diane and then stepped out of the vehicle. Diane followed and stepped around the car.

“I’ll get both of you to step around to the front of the vehicle.” The customs officer gestured, and another officer appeared and opened the car door, popping the trunk.

“What do you think they’re doing?” Diane muttered, a little irritated. After all, she was a cop; they should have been working with her, but instead she felt as if they were treating her like an average Joe. What did they think they were doing, bringing something illegal across the border?

“IDs again, please.” The officer held out his hand, and Diane and Zac handed over their IDs. The officer disappeared into the building, and she watched him through the glass, where another uniformed man was typing on a keyboard and then picking up the phone.

“Maybe he’s calling Green to make sure we are who we say,” Diane said. She yanked a package of gum from her pocket and offered a piece to Zac. He shook his head. Diane popped a piece in her mouth and chewed. That was what she did when she got nervous, and it was way better than smoking or drinking, in her eyes. Those habits were something she’d seen far too often from other officers when everything got too much. “Think Green’s going to hang us out to dry again?” she asked.

Zac looked at her as if he was confused. “He never hung us out to dry. Where would you get that idea?”

“He was supposed to make some calls, remember, smooth the way with the chief? He should have also contacted the RCMP. The border guys here should have been expecting us,” Diane said, and Zac was frowning.

“Sam and I already talked to Green. Didn’t he call you?”

Diane ground her teeth, because she hated that prick and wished he was standing here now, as she’d love to kick his ass. “That asshole,” she spit out.

“Whatever issues you and Green have, you need to work it out.”

Diane snapped her head around and took a step back from Zac. “Really, so this is all on me? That’s just great, Zac. Thanks for showing me how alive and well that old boys club is that y’all are part of.”

“Look, don’t go there. I don’t know what it is between you and Green, but Sam and I talked to him the night we got sprung from jail. Green was furious at me and Sam, and apparently he got quite an earful from the chief about our roadside show, but he did say the chief was supposed to take time and meet with us when we arrived. Sometimes, Diane, it’s just the egos you’re dealing with.”

“So what are you saying, Zac, that I’m the problem here, that it’s all my ego? That prick yanked me off the team I fought to get back on, all because he couldn’t be bothered calling one of the male cops because they all had families? I mean, hell, I’ve got nothing better to do,” she snapped before she glimpsed the border guy fast approaching.

“Here’re your IDs. It all checks out. Sir, I’m going to have to ask you for your weapon. You need a permit to take it across, and the application takes a few days. You too, ma’am.” Another customs officer approached, and they handed over their weapons. “If you want to follow me and complete the paperwork, these will be returned to you at the border crossing on your return trip.”

Zac glanced at Diane and smiled smugly. “Looks like Green really did come through.”

She unharnessed her weapon and ignored Zac as she followed the officer into the building.

Half an hour later, Zac was driving them on the virtually isolated mountain highway that snaked around north then east, south and then east again. The mountains and snow-tipped rocky crevasses kept Diane’s eyes glued to the windshield. The scenery was spectacular, and if they had been anywhere else, Diane wondered if she’d enjoy the view. But she felt the ache in her chest expanding like a lead weight, and she had no idea how long she sat in silence as Zac drove the short distance on the long, winding road.

“Diane, I know you’re pissed at me, but we need to talk about how to approach this and what we’re going to do,” Zac said.

When she faced him, she couldn’t remember why she’d been so angry with him. Her eyes burned from looking out the window at the passing scenery. She’d spotted something familiar, the corner mailbox fitted with deadbolts and locks and leaning on its side. She remembered the cottonwoods and the open pasture and knew then they were close.