Page 23 of Things We Hide from the Light
“Huh?” was my witty response, my mouth crammed full of the last bite of toast.
He was holding his mug and staring at me, half of his breakfast abandoned on the plate.
He needed to eat. The body needed fuel to heal.
“It used to be walking into the station for me. Every morning, not knowing what the day would hold but feeling like I was ready for anything,” he said almost to himself.
“Doesn’t it make you feel the same now?” I asked.
He gave a one-shouldered shrug, but the way his eyes locked on me was anything but casual. “What about you?”
“Driving fast. Loud music. Finding the perfect pair of shoes on sale. Dancing. Running. The chase. Sweaty, desperate sex.”
His gaze turned hot and the temperature in the room seemed to rise several degrees.
Need.It was the only word I could think to describe what I saw in those blue eyes of his, and that still didn’t do it justice.
He took a step toward me and my breath caught in my throat thanks to a wild mix of anticipation, adrenaline, and fear.Wow. Wow. Wow.
My heart was about to explode out of my chest. But in a good way for once.
I needed to get a hold of myself. Wasn’t I trying to avoid impulsive leaps?
Before either of us could say or—dear lord—doanything, my phone rang shrilly, jolting me out of whatever bad idea I’d been about to jump into.
“I, uh, need to take this,” I told him, holding up my phone.
His gaze was still locked on me in a way that made everything inside feel just a little desperate. Okay, fine.A lotdesperate. And a million degrees of hot.
“Yeah,” he said finally. “Thanks for the help.”
“Anytime, hotshot,” I managed weakly as I tried not to run for the door.
“Hi, Daley,” I said, answering the call as I closed Nash’s door behind me.
“Lina,” my boss said by way of a greeting. Daley Matterhorn was an efficient sort of woman who didn’t use two words when one would do. At fifty-two, she oversaw a team of a dozen investigators, held a black belt in karate, and participated in triathlons for fun.
“What’s up?” Our line of work didn’t respect the Monday through Friday nine-to-five hours, so it wasn’t concerning that she’d called on a Saturday morning.
“I know you’re in the middle of an investigation, but I’d like you to put that on pause. We could use your help in Miami. Ronald tracked the missing Renaux painting to the home of a recently arrested drug kingpin. We need someone to lead a retrieval team tomorrow night before some officer of the law decides the painting is either evidence or an asset to be frozen. There’s only a handful of security on-site. Should be a piece of cake for you.”
I felt the familiar quickening of my pulse, excitement rising at the thought of tiptoeing just over the line for another win.
But putting together an operation in twenty-four hours wasn’t just risky, it was downright dangerous. And Daley knew it.
Damn it.
“You’re asking me to lead a team after what happened on the last job?”
“You got the job done. The client was thrilled. And I didn’t hear you complaining when you collected your bonus.”
“Someone got hurt,” I reminded her. Igotsomeone hurt.
“Lewis knew the risks. We’re not selling life insurance policies and pushing papers here. This job comes with a certain amount of risk and anyone who doesn’t have the balls to face that is welcome to seek employment elsewhere.”
“I can’t do it.” I don’t know which one of us was more surprised when the words came out of my mouth. “I’m making progress here and now isn’t a good time to leave.”
“You’re basically doing on-site research. I can send someone else to ask questions and search property records. Literally anyone else.”
