Sweet Dreams (Colorado Mountain #2)(29)

“Expecting company?” Tate asked and I looked at the door then to him.

“It’s probably Betty,” I muttered, turning back to the door and I saw her head peek around the window to look in and then it disappeared so I smiled. “Betty,” I confirmed then I saw a uniformed policeman move to stand full in the window and look in and the smile froze on my face. “What on –?”

But Tate was on the move. He was across the room and had the door open before I could blink.

“Frank,” Tate greeted, opening the door wide and the officer walked in as did Betty.

“Been lookin’ for you, saw your bike,” the policeman said to Tate then his gaze came to me.

“Hope you don’t mind, Laurie, but he said he needed Tate,” Betty put in.

“What’s goin’ on?” Tate asked and he hadn’t taken his eyes off the officer.

“Tonia Payne was raped last night,” the officer announced.

I gasped, tossed the stuff in my hand on the bed and rushed to Tate’s side at the same time I whispered, “Oh my God.”

The officer looked at me and stated, “You got that right.”

“What the f**k happened?” Tate growled and I belatedly noticed he was holding himself perfectly still and his face was rock hard but there was a lethal energy emanating from him. It was so forceful, so strong, it was quickly filling the room and if Betty wasn’t standing in the door holding it open and letting some of Tate’s energy out, I fancied it would choke us all.

“Bad, man, and when I say that I mean bad,” Frank told Tate. “She’s messed up, in the hospital. Did her with a knife.”

Betty cried out and, without thinking, my hand shot up and I grabbed onto Tate’s bicep and leaned my weight into it because if I didn’t, I might faint.

Tate shifted so my hand disengaged but I didn’t drop to the floor because he shifted so his arm was around my waist and he hauled me deep into his side.

“Jesus Christ, Frank, you got an audience,” Tate ground out.

Frank glanced at Betty and me and mumbled, “Shit. Right. Sorry.”

“Right, sorry,” Tate repeated on an infuriated clip. “You can’t say that at three in the mornin’ when these women won’t be able to sleep because that shit you just shared is poundin’ into their brains.”

“Sorry,” Frank mumbled again.

“Tell me you got this guy,” Tate demanded.

“Why you think I’m here?” Frank asked.

“Because you don’t f**kin’ got this guy,” Tate bit out.

“We need you, Tate,” Frank stated and there was the thin, but desperate, thread of a plea in his four words.

But I was surprised. Why would they need Tate?

I looked up at him to see a muscle leap in his jaw.

Then he clipped, “Outside.”

Betty moved from the door and Frank moved out of it but Tate gave my waist a squeeze before he curled me into his front. Right into his front, our h*ps and bellies were touching and everything!

Looking down at me, he ordered, “Close that door, make your coffee and don’t f**kin’ listen. I’ll be back.”

Then he let me go and followed Frank.

“Oh dear,” Betty said and I looked at her.

“Tonia,” I whispered and my eyes filled with tears.

I mean, I didn’t know her very well and I didn’t like her but to be raped with a knife?

Betty nodded, grabbed my hand and led me to the bed. Once there, she put her hands to my shoulders and pressed down.

“I’ll make coffee,” she whispered after I was seated and then turned to the kettle.

Betty was silent while she made coffee and I got myself together. Then she brought two mugs to the bed, sat down beside me and handed me mine.

That’s when I asked, “Why would the cops come to Tate?”

“Well, he used to be one of ‘em,” she answered and I stared at her.

“Really?”

“Yeppo… and a good one.”

“Why isn’t he now?” I asked.

“Neeta,” she answered.

“Sorry?”

“Neeta.” She saw my face then patted my knee. “Long story and a sorry mess it was. I’ll tell you later. But now isn’t the time with Tate outside. Okay?”

I wanted to know then but she was right so I said, “Okay.”

“Anyway, it’s good they came to him,” she said. “Tate’ll find him.”

“But, how can the cops ask him to help if he’s a bartender?” I asked and she smiled.

“He isn’t a bartender, sweetie, he’s a bounty hunter.”

“What?” I breathed.

“Good one ‘a those too, I hear. When Bubba isn’t playin’ hooky and Krystal’s got a full staff, Tate gets called all over the country to find fugitives from the law.”

“Really?” I was still only talking in breaths.

“Yeah, Laurie. Tatum Jackson’s not the kind of man to spend his life behind a bar.”

My eyes moved to the door.

“Wow,” I whispered.

“Drink your coffee,” Betty urged and I looked back at her and just sat there so she prompted, “Coffee, sweetie.”