Flirting with Disaster (Jackson: Girls' Night Out 2)

“Yes, sir,” she said with a little purr that nearly made him groan.

“All right. I’m sorry I can’t keep you company.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “I’ll make good use of you in my imagination. If you feel your ears burning, that’s me sucking your cock.”

Thank God Tom had made it out of the courthouse, because he burst into laughter, though it was slightly edged with pain. “You’re out of control.”

“I know. That’s my appeal.”

“It might be a little of it,” he conceded, still smiling, even as he scanned the area around his car before getting in. “But definitely not all of it.”

“You’re sweet,” she said, her voice going a little more quiet.

“No, I’m—” He’d been about to say “honest,” but his throat choked off the word. He wasn’t honest. He couldn’t say that to her. “It’s the truth,” he said instead.

“I’ll miss you tonight.” After a pause, she added, “I hope that’s not weird to say.”

“I feel the same way, weird or not.”

“I guess we both needed this.”

“Yeah,” he said, sitting in the quiet of the car for a moment. “I guess we did.”

“Be safe tonight, Tom. And get some sleep.”

“I will. And try to ignore our guys driving around. We’re doing extra patrols. Will you let Jill know?”

He hung up and headed out, relieved about Isabelle’s safety and knowing that his primary reaction should have been continued stress for the judge. But shit, the judge had nearly a whole US Marshals office watching his ass. Isabelle had only Tom and one weird cat. And a gun. And a kick-ass ballsiness that was sexy as hell.

Plus, she’d implied that she was going to masturbate tonight while fantasizing about going down on him. That was a woman worth protecting through hell or high water.

She’d been right about the weather. Snow began hitting his windshield just as he turned off the main freeway onto the winding road that led up into the trees. He hit the gas, needing to get to those tracks before they were covered by new snow. Not that he was some expert tracker, but he wanted to see them for himself.

He drove past Isabelle’s place ten minutes later, slowing to take a look at her softly glowing windows. She’d pulled all the shades and curtains, he was happy to see. She was taking the threat more seriously than she had in the past. Or she was simply annoyed by the cop cars that had been going by in the darkness.

The road past her drive was usually untouched aside from deer tracks, but today his headlights caught the straight slashes of crisscrossing tire mar

ks.

This was exactly why he’d walked this road on his first day here. It was almost a straight shot through the woods from Isabelle’s house to the judge’s. From her place, the road curved around ridges and dropped down hills until it reached a few seasonal cabins. The first cabin was quite a drive on this rutted road, but no farther from the judge’s place on foot than Isabelle’s was. He’d worried it could be used as a hideout by someone who needed cover for a night or two.

Two SUVs were parked about fifty yards from the first cabin. Tom pulled behind them and cut the engine then tugged up the hood of his parka and jumped out to meet Hannity in the middle of the road.

“One set of tire tracks,” Hannity said. “Wes followed them out here and drove on past to check the other cabins, but the tracks in the driveway of this one aren’t his.”

The snow started coming down harder, so Tom hurried to take a look. There were more than tire tracks here. “So someone parked here and went inside?”

“I don’t think so. Looks like someone just went up the steps and knocked. The tracks end there, aside from a few steps over to the front window. Then the prints head back to the vehicle. That’s it.”

“You’re sure it wasn’t one of our guys?”

“Definitely not. I took a look around back, and I found an old trail of bootprints leading up to the cabin, but I’m hoping they’re yours.”

“I was up here a few days ago, but I’ll check them out to be sure.” Tom shone his flashlight on the steps. “Place is still locked tight?”

“Yep. And no sign of any tracks at the other cabins.”

“Have you been able to reach the owner of this one? Any chance they were up here checking on their place?”