“None of your business,” Tiny told him, moving to the door. He needed to get out of here. Now. “Stay away from Reagan.”
“Hey, you don’t need to tell me twice.” He swiped his hand under his nose, sniffing loudly.
“Get a better hiding place for that key.”
Tiny strode away, pulling out his phone as it rang. He glanced down at the name of the caller. Detective Wyatt.
“Any lead on the florist?”
“Hello to you, too,” Jack said easily.
Tiny had little use for pleasantries at the best of times. These were not the best of times. His presence seemed to have made Reagan’s stalker back off, which seemed like a good thing on the surface, but it wasn’t helping them find this asshole.
He was growing antsy. He wanted this threat to her eliminated. Which might mean pushing this person to reveal themselves. The only way he could see to do this was to use Reagan as bait. He’d thought about bringing Cady in to pretend to be Reagan. But not only would Hunter have fifty fits, Cady was also half a head shorter than Reagan. It wouldn’t work.
“I finally tracked down the florist. She’s been away at a funeral. Anyway, the perp used cash, so she doesn’t have a credit card number. However, she did remember him, because, quote, he seemed a little creepy.”
“Get her to work with a police artist.”
“Already on it,” Jack told him. “I’ll bring the sketch around when it’s done for Reagan to have a look.”
“Good.”
“How’s Reagan?”
“She’s fine,” Tiny said shortly. He didn’t like the way Jack looked at Reagan. With just a touch too much warmth and interest.
“We’ll catch this asshole.”
Yeah, but when?
“We might need to use Reagan as bait,” Jack warned him. “Push him a little. To do that, we’ll probably need to have you back off a bit.”
“No.”
Jack let out a chuckle. “Somehow I thought you were going to say that.”
Then why suggest it if he knew the answer?
Tiny told him about his chat with McDonald, and Jack said he’d look into it. Tiny ended the call then hurried up the stairs to Reagan’s apartment. He didn’t like leaving her alone. Not even for half an hour.
Chapter Nine
The words blurred on the computer screen and she sighed, pausing to pinch the bridge of her nose.
“Lunch is ready.” Tiny walked into the living room and over to where she slouched on the couch.
“I’m not hungry,” she said absentmindedly, trying to make sense of what was written on the screen.
Suddenly, the laptop was plucked off her lap. “What are you doing? I’m working.”
“You’re too tired to work. Eat. Then you can have a nap.”
“A nap? I never nap.” She stared up at him incredulously.
“About time you started,” he said easily, grabbing hold of her hands and pulling her up.
“A nap isn’t productive.”