“Why would your house be safer?” She asked, just to play devil’s advocate. Of course, Royce’s house would be safer—he’d been in combat zones, he knew how to protect himself. She doubted Daisy or whoever ran the motel would be weapons-savvy.
It wasn’t as if she couldn’t control herself, make her own decisions, but if they were alone together in Royce King’s house… and Royce was aware of it, too, she’d felt the weight of his gaze on her, and she liked it. Whatever was simmering between them would be harder to ignore.
Unless, of course, someone was shooting at them or trying to set them on fire.
“Like Topher, I have a stash of weapons in my gun locker, if whoever is after you comes after us. I also have a much better security system than the motel or even Topher’s house. And I have a nice spare bedroom. Raine helped with the whole place so it’s not, as she likes to say, a ‘man cave.’”
A thought occurred to her, one she should have thought of earlier but with everything going on. “As sheriff, shouldn’t you be out at the fire scene?”
“Probably.” Royce waggled his head back and forth. “But I’d prefer if you didn’t go back out there with me this afternoon.”
“I will have to go back at some point,” she pointed out.
“Yes, but not tonight. And my car is trashed.”
“Isn’t there a sheriff’s vehicle?”
Even the poorest funded sheriff’s offices had cruisers, in Briar’s experience.
“Yes,” he said slowly. “It’s parked around the back of the building. I guess I need to get used to driving it. But I think Marnie must have the keys, or they’re at Garrison’s house.”
She didn’t want to bring trouble to the motel, Glock or no Glock, and Tor’s house had been removed from the equation. There wasn’t another option unless she convinced Royce to loan her a car and she drove to Bridgeton or LaVille, which Briar did not want to do.
“Okay.”
Royce’s eyebrows drew together. “Okay, what?”
“Okay, I’ll stay in your guest room.”
“Oh.” His eyes widened as if he’d been prepared for Briar to argue with him. She smirked. “Great.”
Maybe not ideal because, however inappropriate, she was fighting the desire to jump Royce’s bones. But all that aside, Briar might at least be able to put her thoughts together and see if she could figure out what the hell was going on.
Speaking of which. She dug her cell phone out of her pocket, her fingers hesitating over the keys. Should she reach out again to her ex-boss at the ATF? Or to her current FBI supervisor who was second-in-command on the West Coast?
She didn’t know how much Klay had been informed about what had gone down last spring, but she figured he had to have been given some sort of heads-up. The failed op was why she’d been shuffled to his team, after all. Klay’s office was located in Skagit, not more than forty miles from Rexville. And Briar didn’t loathe him the way she did Jakes.
Special Agent in Charge Adam Klay it was.
“I’m going to trade vehicles. As you pointed out, the Shaggy mobile won’t be much use.”
“I thought you didn’t have another car?”
“Technically it’s the shop car, which I could have loaned you, but the front brakes are warped so it sounds like murder when you come to a stop.”
“So not a stealth car or a getaway car?”
Royce grinned at her, making the smile lines at the corners of his eyes pop, and Briar had to stop herself from leaning forward to kiss them.
Instead, she suppressed her own grin and just maybe eyed Royce’s butt as he jogged toward a fenced-off parking area to the left of the shop.
Ten minutes later, he’d traded the van for an older Toyota 4Runner, and Briar had retrieved her suitcase and safely stashed it in the back seat. SAC Klay hadn’t replied to her text yet, but it wasn’t as if she was really part of his team.
“I don’t know why, but for some reason, I imagined you were living at your old house.”
Instead of heading east to the edge of town where the King family home had been, Royce turned into one of the residential areas behind the auto shop and the Tainted Crown.
“I don’t have good memories of that house. Jordan still lives there though.”