“Right. Well, some of my contacts I’m not lettin’ you in on no matter what, but there is this one thing you can do with me, if you’re up for it.” William smirked at the pleased expression on her face.
“Absolutely. I’ll just check in with Lopez, and we can go.”
“Nope.” William shook his head. “You definitely need to clean up.”
Anne’s nose wrinkled.
“And it’s not until Saturday, in any case.” William shrugged impishly. “Good thing, as I wouldn’t imagine you’d have the appropriate outfit.”
“I know how to do undercover,” Anne protested.
“Not like this.”
Anne was close enough now for him to reach out and touch a loose curl dangling against her neck. She pulled away, but not hard. Just enough that he knew why she was really avoiding his touch.
“How about you come up to my place to prepare? I can guarantee there won’t be any eyes on us that we don’t want there,” he said.
“That’s not…” She trailed off. Not what? Necessary? Appropriate?
“Have you ever been to The Gergitch Gala before?” William tilted his head to the side. “I feel like that might be an event that you’ve missed.”
“A gala? Your big secret place to go skulking for information is a gala?”
“You’re not looking for some grungy dope in a hoodie, pet. You’re looking for the people who are really good at crime. The ones who don’t get caught. The ones who get themselves off.” William gestured to himself with flourish. “You’re looking for people like me.”
Anne narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. She was considering whether or not she bought this line of reasoning.
William felt a stab of satisfaction as her face softened.
“Fine. We can play dress-up. But we’re just picking out a dress. That’s all.”
“Be at my place in the morning,” he ordered. “Your bun and leather jacket aren’t gonna cut it around this crowd.”
Anne nodded. Just before she turned to go, she stopped herself. “Since the department is no longer investigating you, I can have someone make an official statement to that effect to the press. I know it’s a lot of pressure on you to have that kind of slight to your reputation this early after being released.”
“Don’t. In fact, if you can leak that you’re still investigating me, it would probably be better,” William suggested.
Anne blinked at him in disbelief. “What are you talking about? Why would you do that? I thought you wanted people to leave you alone? To get on with your life?”
“I do, but if I’m going to do this, I’d rather all the ne'er-do-wells assume I’m one of them. On top of that, the best way to catch a criminal is to let him get cocky. If the man who ordered the murder thinks the police are planning a case against me…” William picked up a pen and twirled it, thinking as he spoke. “I reckon he’ll be so flushed with success that he’d be more inclined to make mistakes and not guard his secrets.”
Anne seemed to consider that. “Not a bad idea. But it puts a lot of pressure on you.”
“There’s a man out there who stuck a knife in my gut and some unknown enemy following me. Trust me, love, I’m already under a spot of pressure.” William’s tone was dry and a little mocking, but Anne’s eyes widened, and she grimaced. This was not a joke she found very funny.
“I was right,” was all she said.
“You were right.” William rubbed his thumb against the scar on his middle finger. “I know how you love that.”
“I do. I’m not wild about this though.”
She stepped back toward him, and for some reason, he let her take his hand. Her long tapered fingers moved along his, splaying them apart as she looked for the mark. It was unmistakable. The doctors had stitched that up as well as his side, but the former injury hadn’t healed as evenly as the latter. Her fingertips moved over the scar and the bumpy flesh where the stitches had held his finger together. Her eyes fixed on his hand with an almost intimate expression.
“It was before I met you,” he said, although he didn’t know why he felt the need to explain.
“I remember the gash on your side,” Anne said quietly. “Why did the hit man use a knife on you, rather than a gun?”
“Maybe he realized it was more efficient. Maybe I’m bloody lucky. Who the hell knows?” William curled his fingers over, but she didn’t take her hand away. She just held his hand in hers and looked up at him with that intolerably sympathetic expression.