Page 39 of Hunted

“Don’t hold your breath.” She could get it out of him, if she applied herself. He figured there wasn’t much he could keep from her if she wanted to know bad enough. Things had a way of just slipping out when she was around. She ought to work for the FBI.

“Do you really think there are men watching my house?” She leaned over the edge of the bed so she could see him on the bunk below her. Her hair hung straight down toward the floor and her eyes glimmered in the lamplight. “And tell me the truth, will you?”

“You look like a troll upside down.”

“A troll?” Her brows drew together.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never seen Trolls. They have long hair that stands straight up in neon colors. Jack must’ve made me watch that movie about thirty times …”

It had happened again. For just a second, he’d seen his little boy in his mind’s eye, sitting in the middle of the living room floor with his troll collection spread out around him, moving the figures around while watching the movie.

He’d remembered. Without effort, his mind had given him a memory and no tidal wave of guilt and pain had come surging in to drown him.

Twice now in one night. Why? Why now? What did it mean?

She was staring at him. Hanging upside down with her troll hair so long he could have reached out and touched it. She was seeing the emotions cross his face, he knew she was.

“Oh,” she said softly. Then louder. “Oh, those trolls. With the neon-colored hair. I’m not taking that as a compliment, Romano.”

Her eyes said more. They touched his soul, those huge brown eyes. They moved over his face and it seemed as if they smoothed some invisible balm over his deepest wounds. He could see the warmth in them. He could feel the healing power of their touch.

She spoke volumes with her eyes. And he heard her.

“But this troll talk is off the subject,” she said.

“I suppose it is.” His voice came out slow, lazy. He had to shake himself before he could remember what they’d been talking about initially. When it came back to him, he blinked, breaking the grip of her gaze, breaking the spell she’d been putting him under. “Lexi, why are you so determined to go back to the house, anyway?”

“Why are you so determined not to let me?”

“Because it’s risky.”

“The risk has to be minimal. At least admit that much. There’s very little chance White left anyone there and you know it.”

He chewed his lip and nodded. “You’re right, there’s very little chance. But that’s still a chance and it’s a chance I’m not willing to take.”

“We could at least look, couldn’t we? I mean, if we head over there at night, sneak a look at the house from the woods, we could see for ourselves if there’s anyone around.”

He propped himself up on one elbow. “This is about that cat of yours, isn’t it?”

Her face was turning pink. She nodded upside down.

“Your blood’s rushing to your head, Lexi. And if you think I’m gonna risk everything for a cat, it must be interfering with your ability to reason.”

She pulled her head up, but a second later her legs hung over the side. Bare feet and smooth calves. And then she hopped to the floor, pacing. “He has to be fed, or he’ll die.”

“He’ll catch a mouse.”

“I don’t have mice.”

“A bird, then.”

“But he was shut in!”

“Uh, no. We left a window open.”

“A second story window. He’s not a flying cat, you know.”

“We left that rope ladder. He can climb down that if he gets desperate.”

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