And it thickens even more. “No? That little thing?” He laughed. “What’d she do?” He would really, really like to know.
“Let me search your place.”
Remy arched one eyebrow. Someone was being very adamant. Time to up his game. “Let me see your warrant, and maybe that will happen.”
Tim glared at him. “What do you have to hide?”
Everything. “Oh, you know, the usual.”
“Is she inside—”
“Look, I don’t have any fugitive in my cabin. Not like I tucked the woman in my bed or something and then scrambled her some delicious eggs for breakfast. I mean, seriously, is that what you think is happening here? That I’ve snuck some dangerous predator in my cabin and I’m now treating her like a queen?”
“You think this is a fucking joke?” Tim’s features had reddened. More of a reddish purple, technically. Very unhealthy looking.
Remy considered the question. “I don’t find myself laughing so I guess it’s not a joke.”
Tim surged toward him. “I know you took her away from that bar.”
Remy didn’t even blink. “What bar?” He also didn’t back down. No way was Tim getting inside.
“Last night, you were at the bar in town. I talked to the bartender—”
“You mean the owner, Rodney?” Remy supplied in what he thought was a helpful manner. “FYI, Rodney is actually the bartender and owner.”
“You left with a brunette. Where is she?”
“She went back to Atlanta. Headed out at sunrise.”
The reddish-purple blotches spread for Tim.
“Look, you have this all wrong. I left with my girlfriend.” Tim still gripped the picture, so Remy pretended to focus on it. “I guess her hair is kind of similar to my girl’s. My lady met me at Rodney’s like she always does. We came back here. Had fantastic sex for a few hours, then she returned to Atlanta.”
Tim’s mouth opened and closed.
“Did Rodney tell you I left with the woman in the picture?” Remy shook his head. “Why would he lie about that? His brother is the sheriff. Rodney should know better than to make up stories.”
Tim took a quick step back. “He didn’t actually say it was her. He didn’t see her face.” He tucked the picture back into his coat. That coat of his sure did seem to have lots of pockets. “Sorry to disturb you. Obviously, there was a communication mistake.”
“Obviously.” And obviously, Tim had quickly changed his tune as soon as Remy had mentioned the local sheriff. Not at all suspicious. “You have a good day now, special agent.” A shark-like smile. “Oh, and don’t come back to my door again anytime soon.” A hard order. “I’ve got work to do, and I don’t have time to waste.”
Tim’s features twisted with anger.
Remy slammed the door shut on him. Then he locked it and glanced up the stairs. He could all but feel Jacqueline. No way had she gone into the bedroom. Odds were high that she’d just ducked behind the railing on the second floor. Since he’d left the door open the entire time, he was sure she’d overheard his whole conversation.
Once more, he turned and fired a quick glance through the peep hole. Tim had stalked away. Remy had the feeling he’d be seeing that guy again, despite his request for the man to stay away, but for the moment… “The coast is clear.” Wasn’t that the fun expression that people liked to use? “My dear fugitive…” Remy called as he made his way to the stairs and climbed up a few steps. “You can come out now.”
She appeared at the top of the stairs. Still wearing that dreadful dress. When she finally ditched it, he might just have to burn the thing.
“He’s lying,” Jacqueline announced.
Remy kept climbing up the stairs. His hand trailed along the smooth surface of the wooden banister. “Are you suggesting that an FBI agent would lie?” Mild. Curious.
Her hands fisted at her sides. When he reached the landing, she stepped back. He’d noticed she did that quite a bit. Retreated. She didn’t trust him. Wise. He wasn’t overly trustworthy, but her retreat still had a faint frown pulling at his brows.
“I’m not dangerous,” she said, voice thick. “I swear, I’m not.”
He nodded.
She stared expectantly at him. The green in her eyes seemed to burn a little brighter. As she kept staring at him, Remy wondered if he was supposed to give her the same reassurance. Was she waiting for him to say he wasn’t dangerous, too? He usually lied as easily as he breathed but lying to her just then felt wrong. So he compromised and said, “I’m not dangerous to you.” There. Safe enough.
She blinked. “You…what?”
“You really need to get out of that dress.” He leaned toward her. Inhaled. “You smell like vanilla, but it smells…poorly.”
Jacqueline gasped. “Did you just tell me I stink?”
“No, I said your dress smells poorly.” And he’d only said that to distract her because fear had been gleaming in her eyes, and he did not like her fear. “Thought you were going to change. And maybe shower. Showering is good.”
Her lips tightened. “I couldn’t. I had to make sure you were not going to turn me over to him!”
As if that had ever been an option. “Who was he?”
“He…he said he was…I heard him tell you he was a special agent with the FBI.”
“Yes, but that was a lie, so I thought you might know the truth.” He turned away from her and strolled toward his bedroom.
He heard the rush of her steps as she gave chase. “How do you know it was a lie?”
Because I’ve worked with plenty of Feds. Because I’ve even been a Fed. Sort of. But it didn’t seem like the moment to go into all those details—and he’d never been big on sharing anyway—so Remy kept striding forward. He went through his bedroom and into the bathroom. Total luxury. The shower would easily have been big enough for two. Though he suspected she was not at the sharing-a-shower point with him just yet. Pity. He still turned on the water for her.
“What are you doing? Remy?”
“Getting your shower ready.” He was being nice again. More karma points must definitely be heading his way. “You’ll feel better after you shower and, while you’re in there, that will give me a chance to burn your dress—I mean, get rid of it.” He turned back toward her. “You have to take it off first, though.”
She clutched the damaged dress as if it had been made of gold. “I’m not stripping in front of you.”
A long-suffering sigh escaped him. “Fine. I’ll just go outside and stand in the bedroom. You toss the dress to me, and I’ll have other clothes waiting when you’re done. Happy?”
Her delicate nostrils flared.
He supposed that meant she wasn’t happy. Some people were hard to please. Remy brushed by her on his way out.
Jacqueline’s hand flew out and caught his. “How did you know he was lying?”
“Because I’ve seen real IDs that belong to FBI agents. I know a fake when I spot one.” He also knew FBI dress protocol. Everything about the man—and the profuse way he’d started to sweat at the mention of the sheriff—had screamed that he was shady.