Hiding His Witness by C. J. Miller Page A

slow slide down her body.
    She had a “come here and touch me” look. A look he had to ignore. Of course his body had its own ideas about what he should do and most of its suggestions had everything to do with touching her.
    Reilly had to maintain his objectivity and getting involved with a woman—especially a witness—would cloud his judgment and compromise the investigation. He couldn’t allow the Vagabond Killer to remain on the streets on a technicality. Like one of the detectives on the case sleeping with a witness.
    Carey would be safe with him and his family until they caught the guy and brought Carey in to do a lineup. Only Vanessa and the lieutenant knew he was planning to take her to his parents’ ranch outside Ashland, and Carey had told him she didn’t need to contact anyone before leaving. That hadn’t surprised him. People on the run didn’t make friends and they didn’t trust easily.
    But she had trusted him when she’d agreed to come to his family’s home. He wouldn’t take that trust lightly and would do everything he could to keep it.
    He hadn’t given his family a head’s up, but he knew they’d be okay with it. It was easier to explain in person. His family would help him protect Carey and give her a safe place to hide until the Vagabond Killer was caught. They’d also be discreet in keeping her presence a secret. She didn’t just need protection from the Vagabond Killer; she needed to be kept safe from the man looking for her.
    Reilly nudged away the urge to press her for details about her past. He’d promised he wouldn’t, but the investigator in him hated unanswered questions. Who was this man and what about him scared her so much?
    Carey was beautiful. Strong. Courageous. Her baggy clothes were an obvious attempt to draw attention away from her curvy body. He knew what was beneath those clothes. When the EMT had been examining her, Reilly had seen the flatness of her belly, felt the softness of her skin and noticed the roundness of her breasts.
    He shifted in his seat, turned down the heat in the car and adjusted his pants, which suddenly felt too tight. He’d promised to protect her, not ravage her. It didn’t matter how beautiful she was or how much he ached to kiss her.
    She was a perpetual temptation he had to ignore. The case had to come first. Getting a killer off the streets would save lives. Reilly took his duty as an officer of the law seriously and with that came a code of conduct he wouldn’t violate, no matter how beautiful the temptation.
    He took another sip of coffee, which had long turned cold. It wasn’t that good to start with, but he’d needed something to keep him awake. He swallowed the bitter brew and concentrated on the road ahead of him.
    After driving another two hours and drinking too much coffee, Reilly needed to use the bathroom and stretch his legs. Signs on the highway had announced a rest area nearby. Seeing the entrance, he pulled off the road and for a moment, he considered leaving Carey sleeping in the car. The rest stop had a few cars clustered around the main building and several large tractor trailers parked in the rear of the lot. After the trauma she’d suffered, waking her when she looked peaceful and comfortable seemed unfair. He hated to do it. But it was better if she came with him.
    Even in a sweatshirt and jeans, her hair tied back with pieces loose in the front, she was one of the most enthralling women he’d seen. He spoke her name several times and then touched her arm lightly. “Carey.”
    She opened her eyes and shifted, looking around, confusion lighting her face. “Are we there?”
    He shook his head. They had hours to go before they reached Ashland. “No, I need to use the restroom.” The strain of exhaustion showed around her eyes and Reilly regretted waking her.
    She straightened and pulled her hood over her head, covering her red hair. “Good idea.”
    They climbed out of the car and walked in the main door of the