Noah looked away, suddenly as emotionally overwhelmed as he’d been the night before when he’d called Brock. “We’re a fine pair, Jack. Both of us are going home to empty beds. Yours just has a warm body in it.”
Jack got out of Noah’s car. “And on that bright note, I’m going home.”
Noah had pulled out of the parking lot behind him when his cell vibrated. “Webster.”
“It’s Micki. I just got the message you left about Eve’s keys. We didn’t find them at the scene. We combed the entire area with a metal detector. They weren’t there.”
“Thanks, Mick. I appreciate you looking.” He hung up, worried. Eve’s keys should have been there, somewhere. Somebody had picked them up. Which meant somebody had free access to Eve’s apartment. And to Eve. He shivered, suddenly much colder.
He did an abrupt U-turn. At least he could fix that.
Tuesday, February 23, 10:15 p.m.
“Here you are.” He’d brought the evening cup of tea to the woman in his bed. It was a nice habit. The woman liked the tea and on the nights he went out, he added a little something more to put her right to sleep. He could come and go as he pleased and she’d never know. Then when she woke, he’d be sleeping beside her. Anything ever went wrong, instant alibi. There was beauty in simplicity.
“Thank you.” She took the cup, frowning when the cat at her side jumped from the bed to wind around his legs. “Ringo likes you better. Why does he like you better? I’m the one who brought him in from the snow.”
Because I put him there, knowing you’d bring him in. Ringo the cat had belonged to Martha Brisbane but had curled happily in his lap as he’d made Martha clean her hovel at gunpoint. It had given Martha great pain to watch her cat bond with the man who’d promised to kill her. Who’d followed through on that very promise.
He’d decided to keep Martha’s cat. It was a memento he could enjoy in front of everyone. Visitors would pet the cat and only he would know from whence it had come. Letting the woman believe the cat rescue was her idea ensured her compliance without threat. He liked to save his threats for important things. He’d only had to strike her once and she’d learned quickly. But there were other, better ways of keeping a woman in line.
“Must be the liver on my hands,” he said with a smile. Or the blood. Metaphorically speaking, of course. He’d have more metaphorical blood on his hands very soon.
“Must be,” she said, still frowning at the cat. She sniffled a little. “Well, at least I can breathe when he’s with you. I think I have an allergy.”
Which was why she’d never choose a pet on her own. Not unless you counted as pets the snakes she kept in test aquariums in her research lab. And he did not. A snake was not a pet. A snake was a weapon of terror. Just ask Christy Lewis.
“I have work to do,” he said. “Drink your tea. And don’t wait up.”
Tuesday, February 23, 11:00 p.m.
On her knees counting beer bottles in boxes, Eve did the evening inventory with a disgruntled sigh. “Sal, I wish you’d talked to me before you did that booze run. We’re almost out of vodka.” They went through an amazing amount of vodka. Most of the cops she’d met came to the bar to drink. A lot.
Except for Noah, a recovering alcoholic who’d ordered tonic water for a year… So he could watch me. It should have made her uncomfortable. Instead, it hurt. A lot.
Sal’s shoes stopped next to her and she realized she was staring into the box, the heel of her hand pressed to her chest. “What’s wrong, Eve?” he asked quietly.
Everything. “Just tired,” she said, sitting back on her heels so she could see him.
Concern creased his forehead. “Go home. We’re light tonight. I’ll do inventory.”
Only three customers lingered, but David had called to say he was running late. “My ride’s not here yet, so I might as well finish. But thanks.”
“Jeff told me what happened, with that reporter. You have to be more careful.”
Her wrist still hurt from Buckland’s grip. “Sure. Like it’s my fault,” she muttered.
“I never said that,” he snapped. “Stand up. I can’t get down there to argue with you.”
Automatically she stood. Sal’s bad leg didn’t bend well. “I don’t want to argue with you,” she started, then stopped when he brought a bottle of wine from behind his back. She frowned at the label. “Nonalcoholic? What’s this?”
“Peace offering. I’m sorry about the pool, Eve. I don’t know why it hurt you, but it did, and I would never hurt you on purpose. Can’t you tell me what’s really wrong?”
Her eyes stung. This man had given her so much, so many chances. “Sal…” She looked away. “Did you ever want something so badly and know you could never have it? Something that everybody else has and you can only dream about?”
“Every damn day,” he said quietly and she looked at his leg before meeting his eyes.
He was surrounded every day by men and women living his dream and he served them, always with a smile. “I guess you do.” Hastily she scrubbed her wet cheeks.
“Honey, what do you want so badly that you think you can’t have?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Just to be normal, I guess.”
“We both know that’s a total bullshit answer. But you’ll tell me when you’re ready.” He put the bottle in her hands. “Forgiven?”
She kissed his cheek. “Of course. Thank you. I have a houseguest. We’ll enjoy this.”
“Uh… no,” he said. “It’s for you to take to Trina’s on Sunday. Web can have this.”
She looked at the nonalcoholic label, then back up at Sal. “You knew about Noah?”
“Of course. Back when he was in the academy he’d come in here, all swagger and bravado, just like all the young guys do. But after his wife’s funeral he changed, fell way down the rabbit hole. He climbed out, though, and didn’t come back here, for years.”
Eve’s breath caught in her throat. His wife’s funeral. Now she understood. Grief had driven him into the bottle. She wondered what had brought him out. Poor Noah.
“How many years?” she whispered.
“Nine or ten, at least. Then last year somebody retires, one of Web’s friends. He darkens my doorstep for the first time in years, doesn’t even take off his coat.”
Eve remembered it well. It had been the first time she’d seen Noah come through Sal’s door. He’d sat alone, the party going on around him, a tonic water in his hand.
Sal lifted her chin with his finger. “He stared at you all night. Didn’t think a soul noticed him, but I did. Anybody that pays attention to you has to go through me and Josie. But I knew Web. He’s a good man. And I was happy he was finally coming out of that cocoon he wrapped around himself when his wife died. Don’t close your doors so quickly, Eve. You’ve made so much progress since you first came here, don’t let it stop with the outside.” He touched the tip of his finger to the scar on her cheek.
She sniffled. “I guess I’m lucky you’re not a mean boss.”
“So you’ll take the bottle to Trina’s?”
No, she thought sadly, but she made herself smile at him. “Sure.”
He didn’t smile back. “Trina’s right. You are a lousy liar.”
She was saved a reply by the jingling of the door. Automatically she turned. Stopped. And stared as Noah came through the door. Her chest went so tight she could barely breathe and she drank in the sight of him, greedily, desperately, too tired to try to hide it. It didn’t matter. Everyone seemed to have known anyway.
Noah pushed the door closed and for five painful beats of her heart he looked at her.
She felt the bottle being taken from her numb hands. “Speak of the devil,” Sal said quietly. “I’ll just go in the back.”
Noah took off his hat and she could see the flash of his eyes. He was angry. Oh, no, she thought, panic rising in her throat. Not another one. Not another dead woman. Crossing the room, he tossed his hat to the bar without a glance.
T
hen before she could draw a breath to speak, his hands framed her face and his mouth was on hers, hot and hungry and she couldn’t breathe at all. He ended it as abruptly as he’d begun, pulling back far enough to see her eyes. “That was real,” he said, his voice low and rough. “And that wasn’t for my job. That was for me.”
She stared up at him, stunned, her breath coming in short pants.
“And for you,” he added quietly. “Especially for you.” He took his hands from her face and she realized she gripped the lapels of his overcoat. Her right fist throbbed, but she didn’t let go. Wasn’t sure she could.
He pried her right hand from his coat, pushed her sleeve past her wrist. His face darkened. “Buckland put his hands on you. He bruised you.”
Her heart beat like a rabid hummingbird and her knees were still weak as she saw the dark bruises that had formed from Kurt Buck-land’s fingers. “How did you know?”
“Jeff Betz called me when he left to pick up his wife. He’d heard about this morning, figured I’d want to know about tonight. Would you have told me, Eve?”
“Yes,” she said, without hesitation. “He grabbed me because I wouldn’t look at some pictures he had in an envelope. He said I’d see you weren’t such a ‘good guy.’ ”
“What were the pictures?”
“I don’t know. I wouldn’t look. He got mad and Jeff made him leave. He was scary, like he was wound too tight and the rubber band broke.”
His lips twitched, surprising her. “Is that your clinical diagnosis?”
She didn’t smile. “He’s dangerous, Noah. You need to be careful.”
His eyes narrowed and she knew he was still angry despite the little injection of humor. Deliberately he looked at the wrist he still held with gentle fingers. “Just me?”
Her knees steadier now, she tugged her wrist free and took a step back. “Okay, both of us. He didn’t look quite sane for a minute.” She touched the tip of her tongue to her lip. It was still tingling, distracting her from the memory of Kurt Buckland lunging over the bar. That wasn’t for my job. “Jeff also told you that Trina was here.”
“Yeah. He… overheard,” he said and Eve rolled her eyes.
“He eavesdropped on a private conversation. You cops are so nosy.”
“If we weren’t nosy we wouldn’t catch many bad guys. And you should know there is no such thing as a private conversation here. Did Buckland hurt your hand?”
“No, just the bruise on my wrist.”
“You’re going to press charges in case you need a TRO against this sonofabitch.”
She knew he was right. “All right. So if you know about Trina and Buckland, you also know Dr. Pierce was here.”
He winced at that. “I’m sorry. I tried to keep you out of it. I should have known Carleton wouldn’t let it ride. He thought he could help you. I was going to tell you about him and let you make the decision, but I guess that’s water under the bridge now.”
“I guess so. He could be right. He might be able to help me.”
“But?”
She moved her shoulders. “I’m not comfortable with that kind of help.” She turned away from him, kneeling back down by the beer box, discomfited when he crouched beside her. He was big and warm and she wanted him to kiss her again far too much. “No other victims, right? I was worried when I saw you that you’d found another.”
“No. No more victims that I know of.”
“Good. I’ve got to do inventory before my ride comes. Go get some rest.”
“Eve.” She didn’t look up so he gently grasped her chin and forced her to look at him. “Your ride is right here. Leave that till tomorrow. I’ll take you home.” His mouth bent in an awkward smile she wished she didn’t find so endearing. “Hunter drove up when I did. He had a crowd in his truck. Looked like an entire college basketball team.”
“He and Tom must have found a pickup game somewhere. Tom’s his nephew. He’s a home team star,” she added, unashamed of the unabashed pride in her voice.
“Tom Hunter. I’ve seen him play. The kid is really good. You know him?”
Eve’s brows lifted at his hopeful tone. “You want me to get you tickets, don’t you?”
“I wouldn’t say no.” He smiled when she chuckled. “Really, how do you know him?”
She sobered. “Yesterday you asked why that man tried to kill me six years ago.”
His smile disappeared. “You said he wanted to get to his wife and son. Oh.” He’d made the connection, she could see. “Tom was his son.”
“Yes. Tom and I both lived in the same shelter for a while, so we kind of grew up together. After Tom’s father was caught, his mother ended up marrying David’s brother. The Hunters are family. Tom’s the reason I picked Minneapolis.”
His dark brows crunched slightly. “You picked it?”
“I’d finally decided I couldn’t stay in Chicago. I had a quarter in my hand and a map on the table. Heads Carolina, tails California. Then the phone rang. Tom had just been offered a basketball scholarship here in Minneapolis. So I decided to come with him.”
“Then I’m even happier he’s there,” he murmured, meeting her eyes directly.
Flustered, she looked back into her box. “Where is David?”
“He said he had to drive the guys back to their dorm, but he didn’t want you to have to wait so he said they’d have to squeeze you in. I told him I’d take you home.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a plastic bag. “Peace offering.”
“I seem to be getting a lot of these tonight.” She peeked inside. “A deadbolt?”
He frowned slightly. “CSU didn’t find your keys. Somebody could have picked them up. I’ll change your lock for you.”
Eve was suddenly cold. “I didn’t leave my door unlocked yesterday, did I?”
His eyes flickered and she knew he agreed. “I don’t know, but I’d rather be careful.”
“Buckland was at the scene last night. He took pictures of my car.”
Noah’s eyes narrowed. “You think he has your keys?”
“It’s possible, isn’t it?”
His lips thinned. “Probable even.” Then he stood and pulled her to her feet, his eyes dangerous. “Let me take you home. I’ll replace your lock before I leave.”
Wednesday, February 24, 12:15 a.m.
Eve’s cell phone vibrated on the arm of her stuffed chair. It was David, which meant he was at her front door. She’d called to tell him that Noah changed the lock, resulting in a string of harsh profanity toward Buckland. She opened the door. “Sshh,” she cautioned.
She waved him to follow her to the kitchen, tiptoeing past Noah, who sat sprawled on her sofa. “He fell asleep,” she whispered. “I fixed him something to eat while he replaced the deadbolt, but he was out cold. I think he’s just exhausted.”
“He must be, to have fallen asleep on that thing. I didn’t sleep a wink last night.”
“Go sleep in my bed. I’ll take the sofa when he wakes up and goes home.”
“Sleep in your own bed.” He held open the shopping bag. “Blow-up mattress.”
She shook her head. “It’ll make too much noise when you inflate it. You’ll wake him up.”
“He can’t have been asleep that long. Wake him up and send him home.”
It would be the logical thing to do. But she shook her head again. “Let him sleep. You take my bed.” In the living room, Noah hadn’t budged an inch. He’d taken off his overcoat and suit coat to replace her lock, but still wore his shoes, his tie. And his gun.
He’ll get a crick in his neck sprawled like that. She tugged on his feet, staggering under the weight of his long legs as she lifted them to the sofa. If he woke, so be it. But he didn’t, not even when she took off his shoes and loosened his tie.
She should move, but stayed crouched at his side, looking into his face. Her eyes dropped to his mouth. She’d kissed that mouth. In the Deli she’d told herself it was for his job. Damage control. But she’d wanted to kiss him. She?
??d wanted to for months.
She relived that moment in the bar when he’d kissed her for himself. She’d wanted him to do it again, but he hadn’t. He’d brought her home and kept his hands to himself. She looked at his hands, wondered how they’d feel, cruising over her skin.
After a year of look, don’t touch this might be her only opportunity to do either. Or both. Experimentally she trailed her fingertips across the line of his jaw, hard and unyielding even in sleep. His dark stubble was rough, prickly. She skimmed his lips with one finger. Soft. They’d been hard earlier, when he’d kissed her in the bar.
When he didn’t stir she became bolder, brushing the back of her fingers over his cheek, pushing his hair from his forehead, running her thumb over the ridge of his brow. He was, quite simply, beautiful. She smiled wryly, fairly certain he wouldn’t like that.
She pulled her hand back before she gave in to the temptation to explore further.
“Don’t stop.” He opened his eyes, held hers.
She froze. “I… I thought you were asleep.”
“I was. Now I’m not.” He took her hand, held it as if it were fragile glass as he pressed his lips to her wrist where her pulse hammered. Carefully he tugged, pulling her to him, his other hand threading through her hair.
Yes. Please. “No.” She lurched to her feet and he let her go. Lying flat on his back, he looked up at her, his eyes asking the question his voice did not. Closing her eyes, she pursed the side of her mouth that obeyed. “I don’t have to explain to you.”
“No. No, you don’t have to.” He sat up. “Look at me, Eve.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, ashamed for herself and sad for them both.
He shook his head. “There’s no need to be sorry. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I was just checking on my red-zones.”
He patted the cushion next to him. “Then show me. I need to understand them.”
Come on, Eve, Noah thought. Give me this much. He waited, exhaling silently when she picked up her computer and sat next to him, taking care not to touch him.