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something worthwhile to do…even if it might yet prove a little insane.

Chapter 3
    I t felt weird, showering with the sheriff in the next room.
    Hell, it felt weird thinking of Jo James as a sheriff. In Zack’s world, most sheriffs were overweight, balding and—oh yeah— men. He might not agree that’s how it ought to be, but it’s what he was mainly used to. It even seemed safer.
    If he didn’t like women, that would be one thing, but he did. Grandmas and toddlers, housewives and businesswomen. That was his problem. He liked women enough that he couldn’t stand by to see one hurt. And if Jo James insisted on “helping” with this investigation, stirring up powers she couldn’t see or believe, the odds were on hurt. Zack didn’t need that responsibility or the guilt of failing at it.
    Again.
    Having a lady sidekick, even for the few days he was in Almanuevo, wasn’t going to help. It would just distract him.
    So he lathered up and rinsed off and did his damnedest to think of Jo James only in terms of her professional role, rather than her small build. Or how crossing her arms plumped her breasts under the plain blue T-shirt she wore. Or how the hip-holster for her revolver—talk about your Old West cliches—emphasized the curve of her hips. A revolver, despite that most law-enforcement officers carried 9mm automatics like his.
    Tomayto, Tomahto. It wasn’t like she needed quick reloads or stopping power in greater metropolitan Spur. But distractions were distractions.
    She was female.
    If he hadn’t had enough proof, her mood swings had confirmed it. By the time he was dressed and back in his tacky motel room, Jo had gone serious on him. Not I-really-survived-a-zombie-attack serious, either. Closed off.
    â€œWe’ll take my car to the clinic,” Zack announced as he buckled his shoulder holster on over his shirt, then threw on a light jacket to cover it.
    The sheriff nodded, heading for the door with her hat in hand. It seemed too easy.
    Zack pushed his luck. “You can help me with Nurse Vanderveer, but after that I’m working—holy crap, is this March? ” It took less than two steps out the door to know that he’d overdressed. He turned around and stalked back inside, unbuckling the holster to strip to his white undershirt.
    â€œAfter that you’re working what?” challenged Jo from the doorway. At least she’d averted her eyes—but her cheeks looked a bit pink. Blushing, or sunstroke?
    Distractions. Zack slung his holster back on, using his long-sleeved shirt to conceal it—badly—before heading out again. “How hot is it out here?”
    â€œEighties…the weather’s been strange this last year. But there’s a breeze. After I help with Ashley, you’re working what?”
    â€œI’m working alone.” He locked the hotel door behind them with a key; key cards were apparently beyond local technology. Actual sand—sandy dirt, anyway—overlapped the edges of the rutted parking lot, and beyond that, reddish-brown rocks and clumps of cactus. No grass, unless you counted some strawlike tufts. Things seemed kind of…dead.
    He used his keyless remote to unlock the Ferrari with a beep, then headed for the passenger door. Sheriff Jo reached it first. “We’d make better time working together.”
    â€œYou shouldn’t be working this at all.” He swung into the driver’s side while she fastened her seat belt. She had to take her hat off, because of the headrest. Good. “For one thing, I’ve been doing this for almost four years. I know what we might be up against better than you do. For another, you’re…” A woman. But even his sisters would have bristled at that. And the only thing worse than a moody woman would likely be a well-armed moody woman. “Little.”
    From the way Jo arched an eyebrow at him, she didn’t like