few syllables. “That was proof that you wanted to have sex with me.”
Dallas huffed. “And that didn’t tell you I cared?”
Apparently not, judging from the stony look she gave him. Dallas was about to press her on what he should have done and said back then—and how the devil this was somehow his fault—but Joelle moved, causing the sunlight to flash through the spot where she’d been.
At first Dallas wasn’t sure he was seeing things, but he looked closer at the left-hand side of the window frame. The wood was stained a dark brown, but once he was close enough, Dallas saw the specks. A least a dozen tiny dots.
“What’s wrong?” Joelle asked.
He ignored her for the time being and examined the other side. No specks there, and none on the sill. So, it wasn’t part of the wood pattern, and it didn’t look like the stain finish.
Joelle leaned in, examining it along with him. “What is that?”
“I’m thinking blood spatter.”
She sucked in her breath. Looked closer. “You’re right.” Joelle grabbed her phone and used it to click several pictures. As soon as she was done with that, she made a call. “I need a CSI team out to the Rocky Creek Facility ASAP. Marshal Walker might have found something.”
Dallas considered calling in someone from the marshals’ staff, too, just so they’d have a second opinion, but he decided to wait and see what Joelle’s CSI had to say. It might not even be blood spatter. But if it was...
“If it’s Webb’s blood, he could have been murdered here in this room,” Joelle said, taking the words right out of his mouth.
“Or this could be from a beating Webb gave one of us.”
“Yes.” Her breath rose again. Her mouth tightened, and she was no doubt remembering the painful things that had gone on here.
He could tell she was fighting to hang on to her cool composure, and she stepped away from him. “I did a cursory check of the place when I first started the inquiry. I obviously missed that.”
“Easy to miss,” Dallas pointed out. “But if it turns out to be Webb’s blood, the spatter and pattern might be able to tell us the height of the killer. Or more.”
Her gaze shot back to his. “What do you mean?”
“Assailants who use knives often cut themselves during an attack. The killer’s blood might be in that spatter.” He looked around. “Or someplace nearby. Your CSI needs to go over the entire room.”
She checked the time on her phone. Then looked at the folders on the desk. “We should keep going through those while we’re waiting.”
Yeah. They should. But Joelle no longer looked too steady on her feet. Maybe the effects of the drugging. Maybe just the stress of seeing what might be a dead man’s blood.
Dallas caught her arm and eased her into the chair behind the desk. He’d intended to move quickly away from her, but he found himself lingering.
She looked up at him and blinked. “Too many memories here.” Her voice was a ragged whisper.
He managed a nod and hoped like hell she wasn’t reliving the slap Webb had given her in this very office. Judging from the stark look on her face, though, she wasn’t reliving the sexual stuff that’d gone on between them, either.
But he rethought that when he had a closer look at her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Joelle said a split second before she put her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down to her.
Their mouths met. And, yeah, Dallas could have easily pulled away. Easily. But he didn’t. He hauled Joelle up from the chair and kissed her the way he’d wanted to ever since he’d laid eyes on her at the church.
Everything suddenly turned frantic. Urgent. And hot, of course. There was always heat when it came to Joelle, and the taste of her jolted through him. Here were memories of a different kind. She tasted and felt right. Had the right fit in his arms. But he was no longer kissing a teenage girl.
And that made the situation even more dangerous.
Because Joelle knew how to kiss him right back.
Dallas pulled her closer to him, though she was already moving in that direction, and with just a shift of position, they were plastered against each other. He could feel every inch of her, and he had no doubt that she could feel every inch of him.
Like a trigger, his body got ready for sex. Old habits died hard, and even