Page 38 of Blood & Kisses

Blake’s fingers find my forearm, and he affectionately brushes along the skin. “Maybe you should quit,” Blake suggests.

“Nah, I can’t leave Z in the lurch like that,” I answer swiftly because it’s not an option. “Besides, it’s good money.”

“If you ever need money-”

“No,” I stop him in his tracks. “I won’t take money from you.”

His entire face lights up when he grins, becoming extremely warm and likable, a magnet for women of every creed and age, which is probably why his thieving career has succeeded. “Stubborn,” he swallows, then leans over to kiss my cheek. “Pretty girl. But I wasn’t just talking about me. I was talking about the detective. He’s packing a pretty penny and could help you if needed.”

“I’m fine,” I answer sharply, so he’ll get the message loud and clear and never ask me again.

“The offer is there if you need it,” he asserts.

Eager to change the subject, I return to my favorite hobby, solving the mystery surrounding Det. Gabe Bernardi. “He must be lonely, don’t you think?”

“Who?” Blake frowns as he watches me shake salt on the fried eggs. “Gabe?”

“Yeah,” I reply cautiously, so it doesn’t seem that I’m overly keen.

“If Gabe has a woman, he’s done well to keep her a secret. Nah, I think he’s a workaholic,” Blake explains. “Cormac and hunting down paedos is his life.”

“But he’s so…handsome. Such a great catch,” I sigh as I imagine being curled up in his comfortable bed with him beside me. “Surely, there must be a woman he works with or…I don’t know. There must be a limit where he decides he doesn’t want to be single anymore.”

“Maybe,” he grunts and shrugs. “I think the man likes being alone after several years of marriage, so she’d have to be something special for him to change his workaholic routine.”

“The night shift?” I assume that’s what he meant.

“Yeah, much of what he does could bring the strongest men down to their knees. He deals with the worst of the worst, so you can imagine he takes that shit home with him mentally, you know.” My sympathy for Gabe increases with every word I say about him, and I decide to do something special for him. I may not be the girl for him, but I’ll try to make his life more pleasant. “Oh, I forgot,” I blurt, almost coughing up my egg.

“Forgot what?” he watches me with great fascination as if I’m an intriguing animal in a zoo enclosure.

“Houseplants. I bought some home to bring color and interest into this house because it’s so dull and lacks personality,” I explain.

“Sounds like you’re making yourself at home,” he states, looking pleased. “You may as well move out of that hovel and stay longer.”

“I don’t want to outstay my welcome. The deal was that I stay until…we’ve completed the list, I think,” I reply with a hint of uncertainty because Gabe doesn’t talk much, and I’m unsure what he wants.

“Well, it’s a nice place to stay, Rae—a great lake view. I doubt Gabe would mind if you stayed indefinitely, but you are safer here than in your apartment, under the roof of a cop. There’s surveillance here, so we’ll be notified if our enemies come knocking,” he explains casually, as if he’s expecting it to happen but is unworried about it.

“Then what do you do? If you’re miles away, and I’m here alone, and one of Blackadder’s men turns up armed and ready to wipe me off the face of the earth, how do you deal with that?” I enquire, curious for the answer.

“Yeah, we really should’ve gone into more details about the security here,” he replies, mopping up egg yolk with his wholegrain toast. “But Gabe’s sure that Blackadder’s crew won’t come knocking because the murders don’t lead back to you.”

“Wait. What?” I snap. “You need to elaborate.”

“The safe room under the house. Gabe will go over it,” he says far too casually, making me angry.

“A safe room? You tell me about that now?” Stress rises in my body, and I drop my fork down heatedly, making a crashing sound as it falls. “My apartment was broken into.”

“Rae, don’t fret. Gabe will go over it,” he croons, trying to calm me down. “He hasn’t done it until now because he didn’t think it was necessary. We’ve got cameras, a direct line to the security firm, and you’ve got a gun and proven that you can look after yourself. It’s difficult to break into this place.”

“Looks pretty easy to me with all these windows. Where’s the alarm? You haven’t given me a code to unlock it,” I point out.

He sips his black coffee. “It locks automatically when you leave and is unlocked when you arrive,” he explains.

“Does this house have a brain? Does this house know it’s me when I roll up the drive?” I ask, perturbed, wondering if he’s joking.

“Yes.”

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