Page 24 of The Naughty One
Romy shook her head. “He’ll just kill more people. If he knows I’m here, he can try and get to me and then we’ll havehim.”
“Christ, Romy, you’re not bait, here.” Blue’s voice rose and then fell just as quickly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap, but we have to take this seriously. You saw what he did to YasminLevant.”
“I did see,” Romy said quietly. “I watched her die, remember? Right alongsideyou.”
Blue blanched and yanked her hard into his chest. “I’m sorry, baby. Forgive me,piccolo. I didn’t mean—I just—the thought of you in harm’s way makes meinsane.”
She curled into his warm, hard strength. “I won’t deliberately put myself in his sights, but once we confirm it is him … maybe, just maybe I can help catch him. I need to dosomething, Blue. Those poorgirls.”
Blue drew in a deep breath. “For tonight, let’s just … try and forget him. This place is secure. Tomorrow I’ll call in a security team. Baby, do you feelsafe?”
“With you, always.” She kissed him and he stroked her face, half-smiling.
“Regardless of the circumstances, I’m glad you’re here. I was thinking about asking you to move in this morning, but then the sensible part of me said it might scare youoff.”
Romy smiled at him. “It might have done this morning, although I loved waking up with you.” She sighed. “I hate that the reason I’m here is thatbastard.”
“No,” Blue said, his lips brushing her, “the reason you’re here is that we love eachother.”
“You got that right, Doc.” Romy pressed her body against his, and Blue held hertightly.
“Are you tired,piccolo?”
Romy smiled. “No … but I amstarving.”
Blue laughed. “Of course, forgive me. Well, how about some old fashioned Italian comfortfood?”
“Pasta? Sold. Shall we orderin?”
Blue pretended to look affronted. “How dareyou?”
Romy giggled. “You cancook?”
Blue got up and pulled her to her feet, throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her to his state-of-the-art kitchen. “Can I cook? I’m Italian,piccolo. Sit here,” he dumped her onto a stool, “and watch the maestro atwork.”
Romy watched him cook pasta, rolling out the dough and making the ravioli with deft efficiency. He kept up a stream of instructions, just as he did in the operating theater, and when the pasta was cooked, Romy almost swooned at the garlicky, oozy, butterytaste.
“God, Allende,” she mumbled over a huge mouthful, “is there anything you’re not goodat?”
He pretended to consider, then shrugged. “Nope.” He laughed as she threw her napkin athim.
“There’s one thing you didn’t think of, Dr. Wonderpants. I now have garlicbreath.”
“Ha,” he said, “so do I.” He pressed his lips against hers and they both decided that it wasn’t an issue as the kiss deepened and soon the remnants of the pasta were forgotten as Blue tumbled her to thefloor.
For the next few hours,Blue did his best to make her forget everything else but the blissful release of making love, but as the night wore on and he fell asleep, Romy layawake.
Just as I find happiness, Dacre comes for me.Bastard.
Now that the fear had dissipated a little, she felt anger at the injustice of it. All those innocent girls. Romy eased out of Blue’s arms and got out of bed, walking to the huge picture window that looked out over Seattle. Romy leaned her forehead against the cold glass and stared down at the streetsbelow.
Wherever you are, Dacre, come for me. I’m ready for you, you piece of shit. Come forme.
I’mready.
Chapter11
New Orleans
