Lover Beware

she’d been out, searching for the rope, Rider hadn’t moved. He’d kept his hold on Sooner with a tenacious, rocklike patience that sent relief pouring through her.
    In stark contrast to the still tableau of Rider and Sooner, her room looked like it had been the centre of a bomb blast, and the sheer, numbing violence of what had happened hit her all over again. Her bedroom was wrecked. Her dressing table listed to one side, the chair smashed. Broken glass, shards of porcelain, and bedclothes were strewn over the floor. One of her matching bedside lamps was on the floor—the base was whole, but the shade was crumpled beyond repair. The drapes at one window had been torn down, and the metal curtain rod was bent at a drunken angle. It was odd, but she had no memory of anything happening to the drapes.
    Rider took the rope and began cinching Sooner’s wrists and ankles up tight.
    Jane studied the unconscious man’s face. He was in his forties, not unhandsome, his shoulders bulky, as if he worked out. One eye was swollen, and his lip was cut. Other than that, he simply appeared to be unconscious. “Is he all right?”
    Rider rose to his feet, and she noticed the reddened patches on his torso where he’d been hit. “I pressed on his carotid and restricted the flow of blood to his brain. He’s not hurt, just unconscious.”
    His gaze slid over her as if he had to reassure himself that she was okay, then he pulled her into his arms. “You’re wet. What are you trying to do to me?”
    She touched the split on his cheekbone, then used the wet sleeve of her shirt to dab at the blood. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re still in the middle of a storm.”
    “I had my mind on other things.”
    “Uh-huh, and now the bedroom’s wrecked.”
    “There’s a bed at my place. Once we get rid of this turkey, will you come home with me?”
    Warmth welled inside her and she couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face. She was wet, her hair tangled—she must look like she’d been dragged backward through a hedge, but Rider made her feel gorgeous and wanted and so gloriously female she could weep. “Yes.”
    Something like relief flared in his eyes. “Good. And you’ll marry me.”
    Her smile turned into a grin. Yep, he was male. Give him an inch, and he took a mile. “I don’t remember being asked.”
    “It was in the small print. You should read the contract before you fall in love.”
    She wound her arms around his neck. “Who said I was in love?”
    “You did. Every time I looked at you.” His grin was faintly wicked. “And you did look.”
    A faint voice came from her pocket. She retrieved the phone and spoke to the agitated operator. “Tucker’s on his way.”
    Rider groaned. “Am I supposed to be relieved?”
    She handed him the phone. “You’d better talk to them. I think the Armed Offenders Squad is also on its way, which means we could be under siege at any minute.”
    Rider swore beneath his breath, and took the phone, his voice curt as he explained the situation.
    Minutes later, he put the phone down and opened a window. “Tucker’s here, along with the AOS. Hang on, while I call them off.”
    He leaned out the window and had a brief conversation, then pulled it closed against the wind and rain. It was almost fully light now, the day grey and cool.
    Jane looked at the gun, which was lying on the floor in the hallway, where she’d left it. “Yuk. I think I handled the murder weapon.”
    His arm came around her, tucking her in close against his side. “Don’t worry about it. If Tucker can’t figure this one out without eliminating your prints, I’ll personally feed him that weapon. Then forensics will have a hell of a job getting their evidence.”

Epilogue
    BY MIDMORNING, MICHAEL and Jane were finished with statements and interviews. Sooner had been charged on a number of counts including murder, attempted murder, and rape, and had been taken into custody. In a panic, Sooner had tried to lay assault charges against Rider, alleging that Rider had attempted to murder him .
    The crime squad detective from Auckland, who was heading up the case, had looked at the faint red marks around Earl’s neck and commented that if those marks were his sole evidence he was going to have problems, because from where he was sitting it looked like Sooner had been the victim of a heavy date, not a near-death experience.
    Sooner had sputtered and argued, but they had him cold on the Dillon