front of some mindless television. He wanted to forget this frustrating case even if it was only for one night. “Hey, Sheriff. Sorry I’m late.” Again. Billy must have been an overdue baby because he’d been running late since then. Time seemed to have little to no meaning in his world. “It’s been quiet. Call if you need me. I’m heading home.” With any luck it would stay quiet. “Will do. By the way, tell Sophie I really like her new tat. I saw her and Tim at the diner and she was showing it off, but I didn’t have a chance to tell her myself. I was already running late for here.” Ink? No fucking way. “Sophie was showing off a tattoo?” Billy shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on the peg next to the door. “Sure was. On her left shoulder. Pretty purple flowers. Rayne sure did a good job. She’s got talent.” And nerve. Dare had already told that woman not to ink his little sister. He’d known Rayne was trouble and this simply confirmed it. He needed to have a talk with Miss Rayne Dunn. Right now.
Chapter Ten
A nother boring Saturday night at home. Despite what seemed like the longest week of Rayne’s life, she wasn’t asleep and drooling before nine o’clock at night. The mere thought of having the next two days off from work had given her a second wind. Now she was prowling her house looking for something more exciting to do than the laundry. I am the most boring woman on the planet. A cursory inspection of the contents of her refrigerator revealed a slab of baby back ribs and a half-eaten slice of chocolate cake. They were leftovers from dinner a few nights before and she congratulated herself on remembering to eat them before they grew a layer of fuzz like most of the food in her kitchen did. Recently she’d thrown away a plastic container of pudding that had been in her refrigerator so long she was shocked it hadn’t learn to speak and drive. Settling in at the kitchen counter, she poured herself a glass of wine and bit into the tender ribs, the barbecue sauce firing up her taste buds with just enough sweet to take the edge off. She’d worked through the whole rack and was digging into the cake when she heard banging on her front door. Not knocking. Pounding. Like the person outside was drunk and she’d insulted their mother. Quickly running her sticky fingers under the faucet, she hurried to the door hoping the jerk hadn’t grabbed the attention of her nosy neighbors. “Just a second. Hold your horses.” Rayne swung open the door and had to take a big step backwards. Dare Turner stood on her front steps looking mad as hell. His brows were pulled down and a muscle was working in his jaw, his teeth gritted together. His arms hung loosely at his sides but his shoulders were tense and his hands were furled into tight fists. From what she could tell, he was barely holding himself back from punching her right in the face. What the hell did I do to deserve that? Forcing herself to stand her ground, she didn’t move any farther to let him in. Instead, she squared her own shoulders and braced herself for incoming fire. “How may I help you, Sheriff?” “We need to talk,” he snarled, although it didn’t make him one bit less handsome. Jerk. “It’s a little late in the evening for that,” she replied, keeping her voice even despite her curiously knocking knees. She didn’t think he’d truly take a swing at her but he was damn intimidating in this mood. “I’m guessing you got all my messages then and want to discuss the case?” “No. Are you going to let me in?” Not yet. She wanted to piss him off a bit more first. “No, you didn’t get my messages or no, you aren’t here to talk about the case? Either way, it isn’t really the best time for me. You should call first.” His face and neck were red and there was a distinct possibility he might explode all over her front steps, leaving a gooey mess. “We need to talk,” he said between