Page 82 of Golden Touch
“Well, yeah,” the cop says with a frown. “We’ll pick a spot where he feels he has the upper hand. But he’ll be wrong, and we’ll grab him. You’ll be well protected the whole time.”
“No fucking way.” Nash’s hands are balled into fists. “You can’t use Livia asbait.”
“Nash…” Benito warns.
“I’ll do it,” I say quickly. Because I really want this to end.
“Pussycat…”
“Don’t start with the cute names,” I argue. “I can decide formyself. It’s mychoice, Nash. You asked me to stay here and try to get my life back. I’m doing that.”
“Not by dangling yourself in front of that asshole like a worm on a fishhook!” His face is red, his eyes on fire.
“It’s going to go fine,” Benito says. “We do this stuff all the time.”
Nash puts his head in his hands. “I want to be there. Somewhere nearby. So you have an extra set of wheels if shit goes bad.”
Benito looks thoughtful. “Official policy forbids me from giving you a role. That said, it’s a free country. And if Livia decides to tell you where she’s headed, I can’t stop her.” He winks at me. “Just don’t let your hot-headed boyfriend get in my way.”
Hot-headed boyfriend. I glance at Nash. That’s what he is, I realize. My boyfriend. Whether I wanted one or not.
And he’s a good one, damn it. Probably the only good one I’ve ever had.
I’d better not die right after getting the warm flutters for a really decent guy for once in my adult life.
That would really hack me off.
CHAPTER 36
NASH
The problem with making big, bold decisions is that you have to live with the consequences.
After Benito leaves, I sit down to an inbox full of BrewCo emails and spreadsheets. But I can’t concentrate at all. I keep picturing Livia standing on a bridge—like in a spy movie—baiting her ex into showing his face to the cops.
And then, while the cops watch helplessly from fifty paces away, he pulls out a gun or a knife or a baseball bat…
With a grunt of distress, I snap my laptop shut and stand up from the sofa.
“Something wrong?” Livia asks from the bedroom, where she’s folding her laundry.
“I’m going for a run. Need to burn off some energy.” I move to the bedroom door, and she glances up at me, her expression serene. “After that I’ll need a shower. Maybe you’ll need one, too?” I cock an eyebrow at her.
Her lips twitch. “Are you implying that I stink?”
“I’m implying that I want to suck drops of water off your hot, naked tits, and then push you up against the tiles.” I shrug. “Think it over. I’ll lock the door on my way out.”
Since I’m racing the twilight, three fast miles is all I have time for. When I drag my sweaty ass back a half hour later and unlock the door, I find a darkened room with a lit candle on the coffee table and a soundtrack playing. It’s that song about a guy who runs five hundred miles to see his woman.
I let out a bark of a laugh, and Livia appears in the bedroom doorway. “Cold beer, or hot shower?”
“Who says I need to choose? A shower beer is one of life’s great pleasures.”
She blinks. “And who knew I made it almost thirty years without knowing that?” She moves toward the fridge, but I’m faster. I’ve got the can in my hand a second later. I pop the top and then offer it to Livia, who looks startled.
Then she shakes her head. “I was only grabbing one for you. I’m good.”
“It’s not your job to fetch me a beer. You know that, right? I’m just happy to see your face.”
