“I don’t want you hurt,” she whispered breathlessly. “He’s crazy—”
“Damn right he is,” Rowdy bit off the fury that would have filled his voice, barely managing just anger. “He touched you, Kelly. He made the mistake of taking from you, of hurting you. Do you think I’ll ever forget that? That he won’t pay for it if I ever manage to find out who he is? The son of a bitch would have served himself better to run as hard and as far as he could from me, rather than stalking you. Because I won’t rest until I find him.”
Kelly opened her lips to speak, to argue he was certain, only to be interrupted by a less than polite pounding on the side of the houseboat.
“Open up, cuz,” Dawg called through the sliding doors. “We have trouble, man.”
Kelly’s eyes widened in alarm as Rowdy stalked to the back of the houseboat, grabbed a pair of shorts, and jerked them on before stalking back to the door.
Dawg and Natches stepped into the room seconds later, their expressions dark, cold.
“He hit the house while we were on the hill, Rowdy,” Dawg growled as he glanced over at Kelly. “Kelly’s room. He trashed it.”
He was going to kill the motherfucker. The minute Rowdy walked into Kelly’s room, he made that vow. This wasn’t like the promises he had made before to kill a son of a bitch. This was a vow, a soul-deep pledge to kill the sleazy, f**king bastard crazy enough to do this to his woman.
Her room was destroyed. Everything she had was destroyed.
Bits of lace and silk that had once been a treasure trove of frilly feminine panties and bras were scattered on the floor. Her hair bows were broken, ripped, cut. Her bedspread was slashed to ribbons as were her clothes.
Rowdy knelt in front of the closet and picked up the tatters of what had once been a pretty scarlet sundress. Beside it lay a shoe, the heel broken off, the red leather hacked at.
Makeup was smeared, swiped, and dumped over her dresser. Jeans were shredded, frothy nightgowns were unrecognizable, and more than a dozen pair of lace and silk stockings were destroyed.
The feathers from the pillows drifted along the floor, the dresser mirror was smashed, and the padding in the chair had been ripped out.
Kelly was still waiting downstairs to come up and see if anything was missing. The sheriff and his boys had finished dusting for prints, but nothing had been found.
“Someone was pissed.” Deputy Carlyle stood in the doorway, his expression curious as he stared around the wreckage.
Rowdy lifted his gaze and stared back at the younger man. Carlyle was new on the force. An unfamiliar face and therefore suspicious as far as Rowdy was concerned.
And Rowdy didn’t like the way he was staring around Kelly’s room. Curious. A little too interested in the bits of fluff that had once been her clothes.
Carlyle was young, maybe in his early twenties, definitely not long out of the Police Academy, with an ego that showed clearly on his handsome face.
“Did you get any prints?” Rowdy raised slowly, his eyes narrowed as he stared at the deputy.
“Nothin’.” Carlyle leaned against the door, his too lean body rangy, his brown eyes surveying the room again. “No prints on the door either. He slid right by the security system, came straight up here, and sliced and diced. Good thing Kelly wasn’t here.”
Rowdy restrained a growl. Bastard had no right to act so familiar with Kelly.
“Yeah. Good thing,” he retorted instead.
“Sheriff contacted your parents, they’ll be here soon.” Carlyle smiled. “They were upset of course.”
His parents? Rowdy frowned at the hint of condemnation in the deputy’s voice. As if Kelly were his sister, or some blood relation. The judgment set his teeth on edge.
“Are you finished here?” Rowdy asked tightly. “Anything else you need, Deputy?”
Carlyle lifted a brow. “Nothing, Mr. Mackay. We have everything.” He smiled confidently.
“Then maybe you should leave.” Rowdy smiled back, all teeth.
“I will.” Carlyle nodded. “As soon as we get Kelly up here to see if anything is missing. I need that before I leave. The sheriff insisted.”
Assaulting an officer of the law was a very bad thing, Rowdy reminded himself. Kelly would be upset. She wouldn’t be happy with him at all.
“She can give her statement tomorrow afternoon, Deputy,” he all but barked. “She won’t be able to tell you shit tonight.”
Carlyle smiled again as he lowered his head and shook it slowly.
“I heard you were a real tough guy,” he commented, his voice on the wrong side of mocking. “I’d rein that in if I were you, boy.”
Boy? Rowdy narrowed his eyes slowly.
“Get the f**k out of my house,” Rowdy growled. “Don’t piss me off any further, boy. And before you get on your high horse maybe you should call your boss and ask him just how far back we go together. You’re risking more than my fist in that smirking face of yours.”
Beating around the bush wasn’t his style, and he’d just had enough of this little dweeb’s sneer.
“Dawg and Natches are still downstairs, Mackay,” the deputy said.
“So?” Rowdy snapped.
“Last I heard, there isn’t much you boys don’t do together. Don’t tell me you’d actually fight without them.”
Rowdy smiled at that one. The kid was a punk, and he was about to learn a lesson he didn’t want right now. “I managed to kill just fine without them for four years, Deputy. Want to test it?”
Carlyle’s smirk was going to get him killed for sure.
“I’ll just leave you to your business here then,” he chuckled. “Bring Kelly into the office in the morning. I’m looking forward to talking to her.”
Carlyle turned then and ambled down the hall as Rowdy reminded himself that killing outside the Marines was a bad thing. Very bad. Especially smart-mouthed deputies.
Son of a bitch, when had kids like that decided the job was a power trip? Rowdy had half a mind to follow him outside and show him what real power was. The kind of power that slipped up on you in the dark and left you bleeding.
And he could have, hell, he would have taken him out while he was standing there in the doorway with that sneer, but all he saw was Kelly. She would have been horrified if he had actually hurt that little punk while she was around.