“No, really?” Chloe mused, doing up her seatbelt. “That wasn’t obvious at all.”
Sawyer clipped in his seatbelt. “That should never have happened. I’m a cop, for fuck’s sake.”
“Maybe it shouldn’t have happened for a cop, but for a brother whose sister has been violated, it is totally understandable. You need to cut yourself a break.”
“Perhaps.” He exhaled a long, frustrated breath. “We are also nowhere closer to finding Travis than we were this morning.”
She reached into her pocket and took out her cell phone. “Give me a sec. I’ll call Shane again and put him on high alert to keep tracking things on his end.” She hit call and began talking with Shane.
Sawyer reached for his phone in his pocket and texted Kyler to report what they’d discovered: Travis was at the Cowboy Saloon. The bartender is a friend of his. The trail is still cold on our end.
After a long pause, Kyler texted back: I’ll put those notes in our files. There’s nothing new on our end, either.
Sawyer dropped his phone into the cup holder and rubbed his face, forcing down the swell of anger. It’d been so long since he’d allowed emotions to overwhelm him. He noticed how good the spike of adrenaline felt pumping through his veins. He looked at Chloe, who was still talking on the phone; she seemed as calm as when they walked into the bar. Oddly enough, he felt something freeing in that.
In Club Sin, Sawyer could never lose control. Tonight, though, he’d completely lost his shit and been violent in front of Chloe. His lack of control didn’t make her look at him with disgust, as if he’d failed her, like it would have with a submissive. It had her moving closer and offering comfort—and sympathizing with how he felt.
He liked that about Chloe. A lot.
She ended the call and turned to him. “Shane’s back on it for us. So now we have something else to do.”
When she didn’t elaborate, Sawyer arched a brow at her. “Which is…?”
“Food. My stomach is going to eat itself.” She smiled from ear to ear and pointed straight ahead. “Mr. Quinn, to my house.”
He chuckled. “What am I now? Your chauffeur?”
“It’s not too often I have someone driving me around.” She half shrugged in her cute way. “I might as well take advantage of it.”
He threw the truck into gear and stepped on the gas. “Well then, Ms. Nash, I’m yours to take advantage of.”
Her laughter warmed him in ways he’d never been warmed by a woman. The tension in Sawyer’s chest slowly began to vanish.
Chapter 7
Forty-five minutes later, back at her condominium, Chloe stared at herself in the mirror, thinking that the image of her right out of the shower was nothing compared to how Sawyer had looked earlier. She stood in her small, simple bathroom, wearing comfy yoga pants and a light blue cotton T-shirt—basically her go-to after-work clothes. Sawyer had looked as though he’d been plucked straight from the pages of a fitness magazine.
Her, not so much.
She grabbed the elastic hair band off the white pedestal sink and pulled the long strands into a ponytail. Ten minutes had whizzed by since she’d showered, and she figured that was enough time to allow all that testosterone pumping in Sawyer’s body to sizzle away.
Intending to see if he’d settled down, she left the bathroom, the hot steam following her out. Droplets of water dripped onto her back as she walked past her small kitchen. Her small condo wasn’t much, but it was hers, and it had a great view of the Vegas strip. She entered the living room, and the sight she encountered was so unexpected that she burst out laughing. “I see you’ve met Mr. Magoo.”
“You named your cat”—Sawyer glanced away from the big fat cat in his lap—“after a cartoon character?”
She half shrugged, leaning her shoulder against the wall. “When he was a kitten he kept getting hurt because he’s so clumsy. I thought the name suited him.”
Softness filled Sawyer’s eyes before he looked back at the cat, which was now rubbing his head across Sawyer’s chest and purring. “He’s a pest, isn’t he? I put him down ten times before I realized it was pointless.”
Chloe laughed. Her cat could be demanding when he wanted to be petted. “He typically gets what he wants.”
“Is that so?” Sawyer arched a brow at Chloe and then said to the cat, “We might have a problem, you and I, Mr. Magoo.”
Chloe laughed harder, hearing Sawyer say “Mr. Magoo.” Such a sexy voice didn’t suit the silly name. The cat climbed Sawyer’s chest to rub his head against Sawyer’s chin. “I think he’s in love.”
“That might mean more if he wasn’t so pushy,” Sawyer snorted as the cat rubbed his face across Sawyer’s jawline.
She swooned a little, seeing Sawyer with her cat. She