“Don’t mess with me,” she growled.

“I didn’t say a word.”

So why did she feel so uncomfortable?

Weakness wasn’t allowed, she reminded herself. Not with him, not with anyone.

“PLEASE TELL ME THEY threatened you before I got there,” Mary Jo Sheffield said as she and Garth walked toward her car. “I’m itching to file a lawsuit.”

His attorney-a fortysomething blonde who barely came to his shoulder-looked determined. She could scent blood with the efficiency of a shark, one of the reasons he’d hired her.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” Garth told her as he waited for her to unlock her Mercedes. “They were polite and didn’t notify the press.”

Mary Jo wrinkled her nose. “Tell me someone hit you or threatened to hit you. Tell me they manhandled your cat when they brought you in. I need something to work with here.”

“I don’t have a cat,” Garth said.

“So few men do. Something I’ve never understood. Cats treat their owners with disdain and God knows your gender is constantly falling for women who treat them badly.” Mary Jo grinned. “Sorry. Ignore the rant. So you’re saying I can’t sue the Dallas Police Department?”

“I’m saying I can’t help you make your case.”

“Damn.”

She unlocked her car. Garth slid into the passenger seat.

He’d spent nearly six hours being questioned. Mary Jo had been present for all but the first thirty minutes. He’d been provided with coffee, sandwiches and plenty of breaks. It had been easy…too easy.

Deputy Dana Birch would be horrified if she found out, he thought, enjoying the thought of her screaming at some unsuspecting sergeant for not stringing Garth up by his thumbs and beating him with a pipe. If she had her way, he would be tortured into confessing all and then burned at the stake. Of course if she knew him, she would know torture wouldn’t get him to talk. Fortunately for him, Dana wasn’t in charge of the Texas criminal justice system.