stuffed my gun in my pants, adjusted the shirt over top of it, and headed for the door. "Come on."
"Where are we going?"
"To burn a few bodies."
"You didn't burn them?"
I winced. "Could you be a little louder? I don't think people in Toronto heard you."
"Mandenauer said we should always burn them immediately."
"Well, Mandenauer doesn't know every damn thing."
"Could have fooled me."
"I'm sure I can."
I opened the door and ran straight into the hard wall of Damien Fitzgerald's chest.
"Umph," I said, and would have fallen on my ass if he hadn't caught me by the forearms.
"Hey. Sorry. You all right?"
His hands were rough, hard, as if he'd done a lot of manual labor recently - hacked up his fingers, worked calluses into his palms. You didn't get hands like that pouring drinks. You didn't get them from lifting weights, either.
Why I found his scarred hands so fascinating - hell, I'll admit it: I found them downright stimulating - I had no idea. It was all I could do not to lose myself in a fantasy of him running those hands over every inch of my naked skin.
He was dressed in black again. Loose cotton trousers, what appeared to be black Nikes - I didn't know they made those - and another long-sleeved black shirt. This one had a pattern embedded in the material, the only way I could tell it wasn't the same one he'd worn yesterday. Except he'd managed to button it. I kind of missed the smooth white flash of his skin against the silk.
"Who the hell are you, mister?"
His green-brown eyes flicked to Jessie. He let me go as if I had lice.
"Sheriff." He nodded.
"Do I know you?"
"This is Damien Fitzgerald," I said. "He bartends downstairs."
"Really?" she drawled. "And what else does he do?"
I remembered that I'd told her about him and that she'd thought he was a fanged and furry charter member. I turned just as she reached for her gun.
"No!" I said, too loudly. "I mean..."
I grabbed Damien's wrist. He started at the contact and tried to pull away, but I held on. "What a gorgeous ring. See his pretty silver ring, Jessie?"
She frowned, and her hand fell away from her service revolver. She crossed the room and peered at Damien's hand. "Hmm," she muttered.
Damien tugged again, and when I released him he shoved his fingers into his back pocket as if to keep us from looking at his jewelry any closer.
What did he have to hide? And why was I so suspicious of everyone?
Because I had good reason to be.
"I brought you some coffee." He plucked a to-go cup from the porch railing.
I managed to refrain from declaring my everlasting love. The steam rising from the Styrofoam container smelled almost as good as he did. I wondered what kind of soap he used - something that smelled both green and blue, a little bit of moss with a crust of ice on top.
"Didn't think I'd get shot for it, though." Damien's gaze returned to Jessie.
"Don't mind her. She's jumpy."
"I never would have guessed. Something going on in Crow Valley I should know about, Sheriff?"
"Nope." Jessie continued to watch him as if she expected Damien to shape-shift at any moment, regardless of the ring and the sun blazing down on his tousled head.
"Thanks for the coffee," I said.
"Anytime. There's usually a pot on downstairs. Help yourself."
"Let's go, Leigh."
Jessie was impatient. I couldn't blame her. I was getting a little nervous myself at the thought of all those dead wolves in the forest. They were miles from here, pretty deep in, but that didn't mean someone couldn't stumble across them. I didn't have time for the explanations that would require.
"Where are you guys going?"
"What's it to you?" Jessie demanded.
Man, I was a social savant compared to her.
"We've got work to do," I said as I brushed past him.
"Was there something else you wanted, Fitzgerald?" Jessie joined us on the landing.
"I - " He glanced at me. "I wanted to make sure you were getting along all right."
I got the impression he'd been about to say something else, though what I had no idea. But Jessie, with what I was coining to see as her usual bull in the china shop manner, hurried on.
"She's fine. Just very late. OK?"
She ran down the steps, then stood at the bottom, foot impatiently tapping.
I glanced at Damien and rolled my eyes. "Gotta go."
His lips twitched - almost a smile but not quite. "Be careful out there."