The flashlight jerked toward her and illuminated her pale face.
“Ma’am, you sure about that?” The cop’s voice held an edge of worry. “That truck was smashed to hell and back.”
Apt.
“Not a scratch on me,” she said, her lips rising in a smile.
The cop—no, that wasn’t a cop. The older man approaching them so cautiously wore a brown sheriff’s uniform, complete with a shining silver star. The sheriff raised his brows. “Mind telling me what happened out here?” The worry had faded from his voice, and suspicion coated the words. His right hand began to inch toward his hip and the gun holstered there.
Nicole stepped forward.
After we get rid of him, you tell me everything, okay?
Keenan grabbed her wrist. Nicole wasn’t the same woman she’d been in New Orleans. He didn’t know what she’d been doing for the last six months. Drinking from prey, killing them?
Don’t know, but I still want her just as much.
That was the problem.
“Don’t hurt him,” he ordered, his voice a whisper.
Her expression never altered.
“Let go of that woman,” the sheriff barked. “And you both put your hands up high in the air.”
Keenan let her go and raised his hands. After a moment, Nicole followed suit.
The sheriff came closer, sniffing as he neared them. “Don’t smell no alcohol.” He peered at Nicole. “Ma’am, you been drinking?”
Keenan nearly smiled.
“No, I—”
“Holy shit.”
Now that gun of the sheriff’s was up and out—and aimed directly at Nicole.
“I know who you are.”
Keenan saw the fear flash on Nicole’s face.
The sheriff jumped back and pointed the gun right at her heart. “I got a fax in my office earlier today—one with your picture. You’re wanted for murder in Louisiana.”
Keenan heard the hitch in Nicole’s breathing. A faint sound, but one he caught.
“And you nearly killed a cop …” The deep lines around the sheriff’s eyes tightened and his lips thinned. “He came to help you, and you nearly killed him.”
“No, I didn’t!”
Keenan didn’t know this story. “Perhaps you have the wrong woman.”
The cop’s eyes darted to him. “You don’t want to be with her, mister.”
He held that stare. “Yes, I do.”
The sheriff yanked out a set of handcuffs and crept carefully toward Nicole. “No, no, if you’d seen what she—”
Nicole’s hands flew up and she punched the cop, her fist catching him under his jaw. The blow sent him stumbling back.
When the sheriff hit the ground, his eyes were closed and he was out.
“I can’t go to jail,” Nicole whispered with her eyes on the cop. “I didn’t want to hurt him, but I can’t—”
“A vampire would never survive in jail.” Or rather, the powers that be wouldn’t let her. He knew how the game was played. Some supernaturals—generally the low-level demons and the charmers—could handle prison. Vamps couldn’t. They’d start feeding on the other inmates and eventually, they’d have to be put down. Besides, it wasn’t like the jails could really hold them. Or the shifters, for that matter.
He bent next to the sheriff. Still breathing. His jaw wasn’t broken, though it must be made of glass. Keenan glanced back up at Nicole. “You up for a run?” The faintest scent of flowers teased his nose and he tensed, his gaze sharpening.
But no one else was there.
Just Nicole, with her wide, worried gaze. And the sheriff, but he was all but dead to the world.
That scent …
Time to get out of there.
They couldn’t take the sheriff’s car. Too obvious. But with their power and speed, they could put a whole lot of distance between them and the man on the ground.
She gave a grim nod. “What about him? When he wakes up, he’ll put out an APB on me. More deputies will start searching.”
“Then I guess we need to make sure they don’t find you.” He rose and scanned the dark area around them. “We run until we find the nearest house. We take any car we find.”
“Steal it?” She bit her lip as her stare landed on the sheriff. The guy did look rather defenseless, knocked out like that. His arms were spread. His hat had fallen onto the ground near his head, and his thinning gray hair stuck to his forehead. “Isn’t that breaking one of the commandments and not very, um, angel like?”