Page 31 of Some Like It Deadly
“That’s fine. Make and model of the car?”
“Dark sedan, some kind of tinted windows because they really reflected the glare. Didn’t see a license plate.” Which amounted to a fat lot of nothing, but she knew every detail addedto a bigger picture and when it came to securing a target, the more they knew the better off they were.
“That’s fine. We’re going to see if we can get some footage from the security cameras in the coffee shop. They might have had an angle.” Peterson gathered up his papers. “Any plans to leave the house this weekend?”
“No,” Richard answered. “We’re locking it down for now. I can access most of my files digitally, so we won’t need to go to the office.”
“Excellent.” Extracting two cards from his inner jacket pocket, Peterson handed one to Richard and held the other out to her. She had to tug her hand from Richard’s to accept it. “Please put my number in your phones, if you think of anything—no matter how inconsequential, let us know. The LAPD is expediting the case for you, Mr. Prentiss. As you’re aware, they are very fond of you.”
He nodded and rose, shaking Peterson’s hand once. “I’ll walk you out.” The two men left.
Kate flipped the card over. It had a time on it. She understood the message. Peterson wanted to speak to her alone.
Shifting to slide it into the pocket of her jeans, she reached behind her neck to undo the sling. The damn thing was more annoying than helpful and the ache in her shoulder had turned into a constant burn. They’d given her painkillers, but she hated to feel muddled.
Flexing her right hand, she tested her mobility and the sting traveled all the way down to her fingers. She had a couple of days to get it back, but for now, this would have to do.
“You should put the sling back on,” Richard chided as he returned, three pizza boxes in hand. He stacked them onto the coffee table. “What do you want to drink?”
“Water is fine.” She didn’t need any alcohol, not on top of the anesthetic or if she ended up having to take one of those damnpain pills to placate Richard. The fact that she wanted to erase the worry in his eyes worried her. The deeper she went down this rabbit hole, the more it would hurt to extract herself.
He returned from the kitchen with plates, paper towels and two bottles of water. Setting it out, he turned and scooped her up before settling back onto the sofa with her in his lap.
“Richard, this violates the twelve-inch rule,” she reminded him and tried to ignore just how nice it was to be in his lap with his body curved around hers. She’d never craved protection before, but damn if he didn’t make it nice.
“Shh, I’m being impossible.” His arms tightened around her. “And I need a minute to make sure you’re all right.” Touched by the rough emotion in his voice, she leaned into him and brushed her fingers down his cheek.
“I am all right. It’s really a scratch.”
“It could have been a lot worse.” He studied her and the deep brown of his eyes seemed to have darkened to black.
“But it wasn’t.” She needed to soothe away his worry. “I’m fine. See? You can feel me. You’re holding me and I’m okay.”
“You know it’s okay if you’re not, right?” He tucked a finger under her chin and nudged her gaze up. “I get that you didn’t cry because you’re used to being the strong one, but it is okay if you were scared. Hell, I was terrified.”
Most men would never admit that and her already tremendous respect for him inched up a notch. “I didn’t have time to be afraid,” she confessed. Ready to kick herself for allowing the distraction and giving that shooter the opportunity, yes. Afraid? No. But a lick of fear against her spine made a lie out of those words. She hadn’t been afraid for herself at all—but the shooter hadn’t wanted to kill her. Choking the thought off, she focused on him. “But I do need something.”
“Anything.” He brushed his fingers through her hair. She hadn’t put it back up after the hospital, only taking the time at her apartment to comb it out.
“Food?” Distract him, get the worry out of his eyes and ease the guilt she could read in his troubled expression—that was her goal. “I’m starving.”
Her stomach cooperated with the mission, growling as if to punctuate the demand, and his cheeks creased with a wide smile. “Food I can do.” He let her go with some reluctance and set her down on the sofa next to him as though she were made of fine porcelain. After loading up the plates with pizza and opening her water bottle for her, he dragged a pillow over to set it on her lap like a makeshift table.
Violently aware of his gaze on her as she took a bite, she nodded to the television. “Movie?”
“It’s late.” He frowned. “You should get some rest.”
“Are you ready to sleep?” Pushing aside her fatigue, she knew without asking he’d have trouble. He wore his concern like a hair coat and it would torture him if she didn’t find a way for him to relax.
“No…any preference?” He twisted and found the remotes, flicking the television on, but muting it while he pulled up the guide.
“Find something you like,” she suggested. God, she played with fire and would likely go straight to hell at this rate. “We’re supposed to be getting to know each other, right?”
The slash of a grin softened the hard line of his jaw and the tension in his shoulders eased a fraction. “You have to promise not to laugh.”
More curious than anything, she nodded. “Done.” She took a bite of her pizza and watched as he switched the television over to a selection of films and in the list of most recently watchedwere legal films. She raised her eyebrows. He selectedA Time to Kill.
“You watch movies about lawyers.” She didn’t laugh, but she had to bite the inside of her lip hard.
