Trouble (B-Squad 2.75)

Realization sank in. "You want me to be bait?"

"Only for a day or two," Ritter said.

"No way," Drew said.

The harsh finality in his voice needled her in all the soft spots she'd fought for so long to keep protected. It was a call back to her days when walking down the halls of Catfish Creek High School was like navigating a minefield with people like his sister, Jessica—her former best friend—lobbing verbal grenades for the freak in black, her teachers warning she'd never make anything of herself if she didn't stop hanging out with the losers in the school parking lot, and those losers wondering why in the hell the bitchy brainiac was out there smoking a joint with them. Everyone had loved to tell Leah what exactly she should be doing with her life. It had taken awhile, but she'd finally figured it out on her own and she wasn't about to gi

ve up that power to anyone—especially not the man who'd broken her heart as if it hadn't been worthy of special care.

She pivoted in her seat, facing Drew full on, and smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. "It's not up to you."

The vein in his temple pulsed. "You're putting yourself in danger."

"I'm already in danger from the sounds of it." What with the Rhinestone Cowboys following her from Fort Worth and threatening her at The Hamburger Shack.

Drew's hand clamped down on her arm, sending a wave of invisible sparks up her arm that went straight to her clit. "Not if you refuse."

Her nipples puckered against the sheer material of her bra and a lazy wave of desire slid through her. Damn this man. Damn him for having this effect on her when she knew better than to fall for it. Desperate to reassert her control, she yanked her arm free, missing the heat of his touch as soon as it was gone.

"Now where's the fun in that?" She turned to the agents. "I'll do it."

Ritter nodded. "We can keep a watch on you, Ms. Camacho, but we have to keep our distance or risk blowing the case. If their past history is indicative of future behavior, then Hank Wynn and Markus Miller, the men following you, won't be aggressive. They tend to use their size for show."

"Don't worry," Drew said. "I'll be right next to her the whole time."

Telling him to fuck off would feel so good that she almost gave in to it, but she wasn't that dumb. The Rhinestone Cowboys weren't the regular badass wannabes that she dealt with on an all too frequent basis in Denver. They had FBI agents following them. There was a one point six million dollar diamond on the line. Nicer people than those two would do a whole lot of bad things for that kind of money. If it were anyone else acting as her temporary bodyguard she would have said yes immediately. That it was Drew rankled, but the choice between dealing with him shadowing her when she left her hotel room or facing the Rhinestone Cowboys again on her own wasn't much of a decision.

"Fine," she said, still not liking it even if it was the right choice.

Curtis looked relieved. "Okay, we need to work out some details, take your statement, and outline the plan of action to get these guys to lead us back to the guy in charge. The easiest to deal with though is if you can look off duty while you're with her, Sheriff, so Wynn and Miller knock up the confrontation in the restaurant as just an overprotective male. It's a good thing you're not wearing a uniform today. We need you to pretend to be a friend or boyfriend rather than a guard dog."

"Oh, that won't be difficult," Leah said with a harsh chuckle. "He's played that part already."

And he should have gotten an award for it.

Drew

A few hours later, Drew was white knuckling his sanity as he got in behind the wheel of his truck. The drive from the sheriff's office to his house would only take about ten minutes at most, but with Leah steaming in the passenger's seat and shooting him dirty looks, it felt a lot longer. Keeping his hands loose at ten and two on the steering wheel instead of relaxing back and letting his fingers wander over to her long legs like he wanted, Drew watched the road for any signs of the truck Wynn and Miller had been spotted in. The problem was with the influx of new vehicles into town because of the reunion this weekend, Catfish Creek's streets didn't look the same as they normally did.

"What do you mean you canceled my hotel reservation?" Leah asked after he pulled out of the sheriff's office parking lot. "Where am I supposed to stay?"

Ignoring the last question, he kept his tone even as he answered, "Exactly what it sounds like." And he'd do it again.

High-handed? Yep. Smart? Most definitely because when he said he was going to be with her 24/7, he meant it. The woman always seemed to turn his world upside down—especially the last time she'd rolled into town. She'd been nothing but temptation and trouble wrapped up in an off-limits package that he hadn't been able to resist then and was having a helluva time doing so now. Especially when she looked at him like she was now, as if she didn't know whether to fuck him or fight him.

"This is Catfish Creek," she said as he turned left at Sam Houston Avenue. "This weekend is probably the only time every hotel room in the entire town is booked with a waiting list a mile long."

"County fair time," he said, turning right onto Alamo Road and fighting to keep the grin off his face.

A half beat of silence. Then, she leveled one hellacious glare at him. "What?"

He gave in to the smile twitching his lips. God, he loved giving her shit just to watch her spark. "No hotel rooms to be found during the county fair."

She let out a huff and turned away from him to stare out the window. "I hate you right now."

Good that would make what came next easier—even if hearing it was like getting jabbed in the eye with a broken stick.

"Okay," he said, keeping it as neutral as he could.