Outside the Law. Kara Lennox

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СКАЧАТЬ But live, bleeding flesh and blood was not her thing. She’d discovered that at the police academy before she’d been booted out.

       He shrugged, then stopped to hold the back gate open for her. No matter what, Mitch had the manners of a Southern gentleman, one of the things that drew her to him. Along with his calm, easygoing personality.

       Which apparently had been nothing but a facade.

      THATWASCLOSE. Panic had coursed through Mitch’s veins right along with the rush of his blood when he’d spotted Beth peering at him through the fence, a colorful tropical flower completely out of context in his personal gym of rust, metal, leather, concrete and sweat.

       He’d thought for sure she would recognize the discipline suggested by his workout. The abbreviated gloves, the combination of punching, kicking and wrestling on the ground screamed mixed martial arts. But though the sport had gained popularity and respectability in recent years, not everyone was into it.

       Sweet Beth apparently had no knowledge or interest in his particular fighting style, because she let his weak explanation ride. That was a good thing; he’d gone to a lot of trouble to keep his sporting life separate from his professional work because neither would enhance the other. What fighter would be intimidated by a computer geek who worked for a charitable foundation? And he didn’t even want to think about the negative fallout should the press get hold of the connection. What if it came out while he was testifying in court?

       Not even Daniel knew about the UFC matches he’d been fighting over the past few years, and it looked as if he could keep it that way awhile longer.

       But that didn’t mean he was home free. He knew why Beth was here, what she wanted him to do.

       He tromped through his backyard and across the brick patio, wishing she was here for some other reason. Like maybe she’d decided his brush with the law turned her on and she wanted some hot, sweaty sex.

       Yeah, he’d thought about it. Plenty of times. Every time he saw her, in fact. But she’d been giving him Do Not Touch signals for so long, he’d given up on that idea.

       He entered his stuffy house through the sliding glass door, knowing she would follow.

       “Mitch, are you going to sit down and listen to me?” she asked as he cruised into the kitchen, ignoring her presence, and grabbed himself the remains of a high-protein energy shake he’d mixed up that morning. What he really wanted was a cold beer, but he never drank the week before a match.

       “I already know what you’re going to say,” he replied wearily. “You want something to drink?”

       “No, thank you,” she said primly. “If you’re so smart, what do you think I’m going to say?”

       He turned to face her in the small galley kitchen, still decorated in all its 1970s glory of red and harvest-gold. Beth’s hot-pink flowered dress made the decor look old and tired. “The same thing you already said. That I should indulge those backwoods cops from back home to answer stupid questions about a crime I know nothing about. Only you’ll probably throw in something about how I should patch things up with my brother. Because he’s family, and family is important.” Beth enjoyed a warm, loving relationship with her parents, two sisters, brothers-in-law, nieces and nephews. “Does that about sum things up?”

       She seemed to shrink a little in the face of his displeasure, and he made a mental note to dial it down a notch. This was Beth, who wouldn’t hurt a fly, and she was here only because she thought she was being helpful. She was his friend. Still, that didn’t mean he wanted her meddling in his überdysfunctional family.

       Usually it took very little to deflect Beth from any line of conversation he didn’t want to pursue. That was one of the reasons he liked hanging with her; she could take a hint when he didn’t want to talk about personal stuff.

       Now, apparently, she wasn’t going to cooperate. She didn’t look as though she was about to back down from this fight. He tried to think of some way to change the stubborn thrust of her chin. His gaze focused briefly on her plump, pink lips.

       A kiss would give her something else to think about.

       “Yes, of course I’m here about your brother’s visit,” she said, bumping his attention back to the matter at hand. “Can we sit down? Will you at least hear me out?”

       “Fine,” he mumbled. He suddenly became aware of his sweaty, bedraggled state. Beth was her usual fresh-as-a-daisy self in her sleeveless, summery dress, and he probably looked awful and smelled worse. “Can I take a shower first?”

       “If you want, but I don’t mind you this way.”

       For half an instant, Mitch read innuendo into her words. His traitorous mind visualized her leaning in and licking the sweat off his neck, like the fight groupies, who hung out at the gym, sometimes offered.

       Then he gave himself a mental smack to the head. This was Beth, his friend, his work buddy, who liked sharing a pizza and watching true crime shows with him so they could make bets on who the real culprit would turn out to be. She was just being considerate. How many times did he have to remind himself she was Off-Limits, in capital letters?

       “I’ll be out in five minutes. Go sit down.” He grabbed himself a protein bar on his way out of the kitchen. He was famished. Burning five hundred calories in one forty-five-minute workout could do that to a guy, and he didn’t want to drop any more weight. He was already lighter than most of his light-heavyweight-class opponents.

       When he returned to the living room a few minutes later in jeans and a clean T-shirt, he found Beth sitting stiff-backed on the edge of a chair, looking anything but comfortable.

       Man, this thing with Dwayne and Robby had gotten her all tied into knots. She must be convinced it was some kind of big deal. His heart felt a small twinge for causing her to worry. She didn’t deserve that.

       Mitch sprawled onto the sofa, feeling a little better after his brutal workout, a stinging shower and ingesting a few calories. “All right, Bethy, lay it on me. Say what you have to say.”

       “First, Mitch, Daniel wants you to know that he doesn’t—that no one at work thinks you killed anyone. The notion is preposterous.”

       As hard as he was trying to remain detached, his coworkers’ faith in him touched something soft inside him. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

       “That said, are you out of your mind?”

       Mitch sat up, startled by her vehemence. “Excuse me?” He’d been expecting a much gentler approach from Beth. Some sympathy, maybe.

       “You practically told a law enforcement officer to go to hell. I don’t care if he’s related to you. He was acting in his official capacity.”

       Mitch shook his head. “It might have looked that way to you, but it was personal. He was doing his level best to embarrass me.”

       “Why?” Beth asked. “Why would he do that?”

       He looked at her, an angry retort on the tip of his tongue, then squelched whatever he’d been about to say. She was asking out of genuine concern, not prurient interest.

       “A long and ugly family history,” he finally said. “Dwayne doesn’t have my best interest at heart.”

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