Page 45 of On the Chase
“I knocked,” he countered with no remorse. None. “Listen, the guys just got here, and they have some information on Truman. I figured you’d want to hear this.”
“I do, thanks. Give me two minutes.” Feeling like she was forty years older than she actually was, Grace moved toward the doorway…and Hugh. He was watching her with an odd look on his face, and she restrained the urge to touch her hair. It was a hideous, snaky mess, she was sure, but she was also sure that she shouldn’t care what Hugh thought of her appearance. People were shooting at them, blowing things up, chasing them through print shops, and booby-trapping decks. She needed to focus on that, not her twitchy, fluttery stomach as his gaze dropped from her face down her poorly dressed body.
She reached the doorway, but Hugh didn’t move, instead continuing to watch her with an unreadable expression. From what she’d learned about Hugh, he didn’t do unreadable. He was either happy, jokey Hugh or serious, intent, keep-them-from-dying Hugh. “What?”
“Whatwhat?”
And there it was. A gleam of humor returned to Hugh’s eyes, and Grace rolled her own. “Quit staring at my Medusa head and get out of the way. I need two minutes in the bathroom, impatient pants.”
“Impatient pants?” Now he was actually chuckling. “That’s your insult? Good one, Gracie.”
With a frustrated grumble, she elbowed past him, squeezing into the hallway and stomping toward the bathroom door. “And let me pee in peace this time. Go downstairs. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“As if I want to stand here and listen,” he huffed, although there was that constant amused undertone to his voice, as if he was suppressing laughter.
Grace paused while pulling the bathroom door closed behind her to glance at Hugh with her eyebrows raised. “I know how you are with women’s restroom doors.” Without waiting for a comeback, she closed the door the rest of the way. Even though she knew it wouldn’t slow Hugh down too much, she shoved the button lock in with her thumb.
Through the door, she heard him make a scoffing sound. “One time. I broke into a women’s restroomone time. Can’t you just let that go? I was concerned for your safety. You’d been in there for hours.”
“Minutes, Hugh.” Raising her voice, she corrected him without opening the door. “I’d been in there just a few minutes. You need to grow some patience.” When the only response was a wordless, cranky growl, she grinned. Despite her minor victory, she still did what she needed to quickly. After all, a serial bathroom door unlocker was not about to change his stripes overnight.
The three cops standing around the large kitchen looked at her as she came in. Lexi was stretched out in front of the stove. Although she raised her head and thumped her tail against the floor in greeting, she didn’t get up. Grace figured the dog must be feeling as sore as she was.
The grim expressions on all three of the guys reminded Grace of the situation, and she felt a wave of hopelessness and homesickness crash over her. Bantering with Hugh upstairs, she’d been able to push the whole assassin thing to the back of her mind, but now, facing the three serious-looking cops, she wasn’t able to think of anything but the killers who were after them. Her knees sagged under the weight of her despair, forcing her to drop into one of the chairs surrounding a wooden table.
As if he knew what she was feeling, Hugh moved behind her and squeezed her shoulders. She was glad he kept his hands, bulky with bandages, there, since the weight of them was reassuring.
“Where’s your sling?” he asked, and she sighed. So much for silent support.
“Probably the same place as your crutches,” she snapped back, and then immediately felt guilty. He’d saved her life over and over, and he was just concerned about her arm. Before she could apologize, though, she realized that Theo and Otto were hiding smiles. Distracted by the rare grins on Dour and Dourer, the words died before they could leave her mouth.
“Eggs?” Otto asked, scooping a mound of them onto her plate before she could answer. The smell made her stomach rumble, and she tried to remember the last time she’d eaten. Honestly, she couldn’t remember.
“Thank you.” She picked up her fork and started shoveling food into her mouth. With a satisfied grunt, Otto returned the pan to the stove and poured her a glass of orange juice. Dropping his hands—which made Grace have to swallow a protest—Hugh sat in the chair next to her.
“Good thing you like your eggs scrambled,” he said, idly picking up a fork. “That’s the only way Otto knows how to make them.” When he reached toward her plate, as if intending to take a bite of her food, she held her fork threateningly above his interloping hand.
“Back off.”
The hungry-puppy look was out in full force. Grace would’ve had more sympathy if she couldn’t see the stack of dirty plates that Otto was rinsing off and placing in the dishwasher. “But…”
Narrowing her eyes, Grace gave him her most threatening glare. With a pathetic glance toward her plate and then back at her face, Hugh gave a loud sigh and pulled back his own fork.
“Cruel,” he sighed.
Having warded off the threat to her eggs, she continued eating. When she’d finally had enough that her stomach’s demands had quieted slightly, she put down her fork and took a drink of juice before looking at Otto.
“Thank you for letting us stay here.”
He did a grunt-and-shrug combo that made her suspect her gratitude made him uncomfortable.
“I wish I’d had you come here yesterday,” Hugh said, sounding unusually serious. “I hate that you were hurt because of me.” His honest regret worked where his puppy face had failed. She studied him for a moment before pushing her half-full plate in front of him. Hugh gave her a surprised glance.
“Sure?” he asked, even as he was shoveling in his first mouthful.
Grace just rolled her eyes at him before turning to the other two. “What’s the plan?”
They exchanged a look. Theo opened his mouth, but the door opened before he could say anything, and Jules breezed in, followed by all the kids.
