Dead by Midnight - Beverly Barton [64]
“I’m not sure, but I don’t think he knows anything specific other than the fact you have a bodyguard.”
“How could he have found out?”
“Any number of ways,” Mike said. “Maybe one of your neighbors snooped around and found out what’s going on or even somebody working for me might have inadvertently let something slip and it got passed on. It’s hard to keep secrets in a small town.”
Lorie sucked in a deep breath and released it slowly.
“I can hold Bonner overnight for questioning, but that’s it unless you press charges. And I’m not sure you want to do that.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“He knows about your alter ego, Cherry Sweets,” Mike told her.
God, how he hated the pain he saw in her eyes. “Bonner wants to do an exposé on you—then and now—in the hopes it will get him a promotion to full-time status at the Huntsville Times.”
“He can’t do that! He has no right,” Lorie said. “I’ll hire Elliott Floyd and threaten to sue him and the newspaper if they print one word about my past.”
“You can do that and you probably should, but you have to know that if what they print is the truth—”
“Their version of the truth.” Lorie wrapped her arms together around her waist in a hugging gesture and closed her eyes.
Shelley cleared her throat. “If you can stick around for a while, Sheriff, I need to contact the agency about this,” Shelley said. “We’ll want all the info on Ryan Bonner we can get. And we’ll want it now.” She glanced at Lorie, who stood in the middle of her living room, a dazed expression on her face. “I won’t be long, okay?”
Lorie nodded. “Okay.”
When they were alone together, Lorie sad and on the verge of tears, Mike’s male instincts urged him to comfort her.
Talk to her. Reassure her. But don’t touch her.
“Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, this had to happen.” Lorie looked at him. “Not only do I have a serial killer who intends to make me one of his victims, but I have a zealous reporter who plans to exploit my life story in order to get a promotion.” She laughed, the tone despondently mocking. “What’s that old saying about if not for bad luck I’d have no luck at all?”
“I’m sorry. I wish I could do more to help you.”
“You really mean that, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” Mike took a tentative step toward her and then halted when she was within arm’s reach. It would be so easy to pull her into his arms, to hold her against his body, to brush his lips over her temple, to tell her he’d die before he would let anyone harm her. “You’ve got twenty-four/seven protection with Ms. Gilbert, and between her and the patrol car I’ve assigned to keep watch shortly before and after midnight every night, you’re relatively safe. As for that damn reporter—everybody in Dunmore already knows about the Playboy spread and the porno movie.”
Lorie swallowed. “My illicit past has come back and bitten me in the ass big-time. No matter what I do, how hard I try to be a good person, how much penance I pay, I can’t obtain a pardon.”
“Don’t.” He reached out to her, his hand hovering over her shoulder. “Don’t do this to yourself.”
“What’s the matter, Sheriff, don’t have the stomach for watching my self-flagellation?”
His hand fell away, down to his side, as he kept his gaze focused on the agony he saw in her eyes. “I don’t know what to say. Tell me how I can help you.”
“Don’t you dare feel sorry for me! I don’t want your pity.”
“Damn it, Lorie, don’t be so stubborn.”
She threw up her hands in an I-give-up gesture. “Why did I ever think this town would allow me to live down my past when the man who once professed he would love me forever, no matter what, can’t forgive me?”
“Lorie, please…”
“Please what? Understand why you feel the way you do? Do you have any idea what it’s like to look into the eyes of the man you’ve loved since you were sixteen and see nothing but disgust and pity?”
He stared at her, momentarily unable to speak or move, while her words soaked into his brain. Her words—the man you’ve loved since you were sixteen—played over and over in his head. Surely she didn’t mean that she still loved