Twice as Hot (Tales of an Extraordinary Girl #2)(59)

"What does that matter?" I found myself asking.

Rome pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sweetheart," he said through clenched teeth, "just because you have a headache doesn't mean you should inflict your bad mood on the rest of us. Let the man do his job."

Parton wanted to slap Rome on the shoulder in a way-to-keep-your-woman-in-her-place gesture, I could tell. "You'd do best to listen to your husband, ma'am."

"He's not my husband," I grumbled.

Rome stiffened.

Parton's head tilted to the side as he considered me a second time. "Do I know you?"

"No," I lied. If only Rome had recovered his memory that quickly. "I'm sure I'd remember - "

"We're actually in something of a rush," Rome interjected before I could finish with an upstanding law enforcer such as yourself. Really. "Doctor's appointment. For her headache. So if you're through with us..."

Parton slid his sunglasses back into place, and a dark brow arched over the top of them. I had the feeling he was still looking at me, trying to place me, not really listening to Rome. There was a cold brush of ickiness all the way to my soul.

I glanced down at myself. My T-shirt and jeans were still damp, my nipples hard and peeking through my bra. I appeared every inch the aroused vagrant. Rome was no better (minus the aroused part, alas).

He had a few cuts on his face and bruises already forming on his hands, all of which would be healed by the end of the day. Grass stains and soot clung to his clothing.

"Officer?" Rome said.

Parton's attention whipped to him. Oh, gag. He had been sizing me up. Maybe even perving on me. I was going to need a hose rammed down my throat to wash out the vomit.

His pen started tapping against his notepad again. "You guys hear or see anything unusual since leaving your house?"

"Why?" Rome asked, acting like any other morbidly curious person. "Like what?" Parton shrugged. "Gunshots? Yelling? Cars crashing together?"

"There was a shootout? In this neighborhood? Oh, man. What's the world coming to? I mean, nowhere is safe nowadays. I wish I could help you, Detective, but I didn't see anything."

"It's officer."

Rome glanced at me. "Did you see anything, honey?"

"No."

"Me, either," Sherridan said, shifting in her seat.

Parton frowned and eyed our car. "How'd your car get so beat up in the back, the windshield shattered? Why is half your steering wheel missing?"

"Fender-bender," Rome said, glancing irritably at his wristwatch. I wasn't sure if he was pretending now or if he had unintentionally unleashed a bit of his anger. "We were rammed from behind and the impact caused all kinds of damage. Cars aren't as durable as they used to be."

"Do you have a case number?" he said easily, but he started writing in his notepad. Taking our names?

Making us suspects? Pretty soon, he'd probably be radioing for backup.

"Don't remember it."

"That's all right. Your name will be enough to find the report." I nearly groaned. Should I freeze him? Most likely he'd thaw and go on to live a long life - unfortunately.

Or would dousing him in ice bring too much attention to us? Were people watching us from inside their homes, peeking out through the windows?

Either way, I couldn't allow him to detain us longer than he already had. We had a flight to catch. An agent to...save? No telling with Cody.

"Were you the one driving?" Parton continued. "Or was your girlfriend? I seem to recall cuffing her and taking her in for some sort of vehicular violation. Your name, though...We called you Foul Mouth James, or something like that."

"Enough of this." In a motion so swift I saw only a blur, Rome reached out and grabbed the officer by the neck, squeezing his carotid tight. First Parton turned red, then blue, and then his knees gave out and he collapsed. He never once fought.

"A quick lesson for you girls. Block the blood to your opponent's brain, not their airway. They go down faster and won't struggle." Rome let the man fall, not even trying to catch him as he emerged from the car. "Stay here," he said, scooping Parton into his arms.

I unbuckled, leaning out the window to watch him place Parton in the backseat of his squad car.

Moments passed, the job done, but Rome remained bent over in the car. What was he doing?

Finally he strode back to our car, settled inside and threw it into gear. He tossed the notes Parton had written into a heap on the floorboard.

"What'd you do to him?" I asked.

"Left him naked for his buddies to find. You're welcome. I also radioed that one of the men from the shootout was found about a mile from here. Hopefully, all available officers will head that way, allowing us an easy escape. Now let's get the hell out of here."

His plan worked. We made it out of the neighborhood with no other incidents. We even reached the airstrip unimpeded.

Rome parked and killed the engine, and everyone released a sigh of relief.

"Thank you," I told him. "For everything."

Sherridan emerged to get her bags from the trunk, and I attempted to do the same. But Rome reached out and grabbed my arm, stopping me. His expression gave nothing away.

"I thought I'd lost you back there," he said, and even his voice was devoid of emotion.