His body grew stiff, erect, and his reaction to her surprised him. Randon rarely found blondes attractive, particularly those who looked like they could kick a man’s ass, or at least make him beg for mercy.
Randon snickered at the thought and returned to his meatloaf platter, scooping up a spoonful of mashed potatoes. He quickly washed it down with a gulp of iced tea when he noticed the detective walking toward him.
“So you’re a vigilante.”
He wiped his lips with a napkin. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“How would you describe yourself?”
“If you only knew.” His remark was as guttural as any he’d made in his lifetime. He immediately indicated the chair across from him as if he could make up for his suggestive tone by inviting her to join him.
She didn’t hesitate. She took a seat, slammed her keys on the table, and glared at him as if she thought he could answer all her questions. “I knew those people.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” She grunted. “You show up here on the day thirty-two people were murdered in a town with the lowest crime rate in the country and you’re sorry?”
“I didn’t kill your friends.”
“You know who did. You said so. Blaine—Sheriff McKinney—wouldn’t have let you walk if those families hadn’t come down to the crime scene.”
“I booked a room across from the jail and told him where to find me. I have nothing to hide, lady.”
“Detective works. Lady doesn’t.”
“You are a woman. Aren’t you?”
She blushed. “Obviously.”
“Yeah, the boobs sort of gave you away.” He enjoyed provoking her for some reason.
“You’re trying to insult me.”
“Detective, I’m not here to insult you.” He took a bite of his meatloaf.
“Why are you here?” Her blue gaze bore into his. “And why are you so familiar to me?”
“Am I?” He felt his thighs tightened and in an effort to maintain whatever limited control he’d managed to keep since she’d entered the diner, he quickly added, “I have no idea. Perhaps I resemble someone you know. Detective, all small talk aside, I want to help you.” He didn’t bother adding that he also possessed a strong need to protect her, because that shit just didn’t make sense.
“Why?”
“Because you need me and because I can.”
She motioned for the waitress. “Can I get a burger with the works, large onion rings, and vanilla shake?”
“Coming right up,” the older lady said, sauntering away.
“I take it you’re hungry.”
“I haven’t been to bed in over forty-eight hours. I’m tired. I want to listen to you while I eat so I can go home and sleep on the information you provide.”
“Lady, if I tell you what I know, you won’t sleep a wink tonight. Between the belly ache those greasy foods will give you and the sickening intelligence I can provide, you’ll be lucky if you ever rest again.”
“You let me worry about that.”
“All right,” he said, turning sideways and swinging his arm over the seat. “Have it your way, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Chapter Three