When she’d put off going downstairs as long as she thought she could without looking like she was a little mouse afraid to venture out, Everleigh unlocked her bedroom door and took the staircase as though she owned it. Her makeup was perfect. She’d put earrings in both piercings. And her sassy hair gave her an edge over the nearly scared-witless woman lurking inside her.
For all that, Clarke wasn’t in the kitchen. Or the living room she had to pass through to get there. For all she knew, he slept in late. When pictures of that muscled body lying naked on top of the sheets came to mind, she shook her head and made for the coffee maker she’d seen at the end of the counter when she’d been cooking the night before.
It already had coffee in the pot. She poured a cup, figuring she could head back upstairs for a bit, hadn’t even had the first sip when Clarke came out of the room off the far end of the living room and into the kitchen.
He was in jeans again, too, and the light brown sweater, along with a pair of brown work shoes that looked waterproofed against the snow, gave him a ruggedness her libido didn’t need. He was a definite case of imagination overload.
He didn’t ask how she’d slept. Or thank her for dinner, either, though she’d already peeked in the refrigerator to see that the dish she’d left for him was gone. Instead, he began to list all the evidence that her case was lacking.
Which all pretty much led to no leads. Anyplace. Broken cameras, no cameras, neighbors seeing nothing...abandoned car, no shell casings, no fingerprints... It was like a phantom was after her.
She’d almost think she was imagining things if Clarke hadn’t witnessed both attempts on her life. Before helplessness could completely overwhelm her, he continued with his report.
“I’m on my way out...” No. That wasn’t a report. Panic flared. He’d said he was going to keep her safe, and in less than twenty-four hours he was walking out on her?
Her mouth fell open... She could only imagine the shock on her face based on his immediate step forward and look of compassion.
“Don’t worry,” he quickly assured her. “You won’t be here alone. And I’ll only be gone as long as absolutely necessary...”
Two things registered. He wasn’t leaving her alone. And he was coming back.
“I’ll be absolutely fine here by myself,” she said, finding her groove again. He’s coming back.
He shook his head. “I’m not taking any chances. And neither is my family.”
She liked how he brought the others into the conversation. Into the home, into their fake relationship. And was sure he’d done so on purpose. As a reminder to her.
And to him, too?
He’d been so quick to step forward in her moment of ridiculous panic.
Everleigh could tell that she intrigued him. He’d never kissed a woman on a case before.
God, she was losing her mind. Had Fritz’s defection made her so completely starved for male attention that she was glomming on to the first guy in her sphere? Even when her life was in danger?
If she was going to die, she might as well live through a good moment or two first, instead of going out on all the bad ones.
She pushed the wayward thought aside, listening as Clarke said, “My brother Stanton is on his way over now. He’s a bodyguard...”
She nodded. “I know who he is,” she said. Stanton Colton owned a small but elite protection agency, well-known in town, and his clients were all movie stars and politicians. People with stature and enough money to afford to pay top dollar for their lives. “And there’s no way he needs to waste his time on me,” she said.
Even with her life-insurance windfall, the idea of paying for even an hour of that kind of protection was bothersome. Wasteful...
“The decision’s already been made. He’ll be here in less than five minutes, and you won’t be paying for any of this—I already told you that. I won’t be gone more than an hour or two. And I’m just heading over to the police station.”
That got her attention, as he’d probably known it would. “Why?”
“I can’t say a lot yet, but Melissa called an emergency meeting for the task force working on the Randall Bowe case...”
“Do they think maybe he has something to do with what’s been happening to me since I got out of prison?” As awful as the thought was, she found it more manageable than accepting that someone she knew wanted her dead.
Or that Fritz’s killer was after her, too.
Her husband’s murderer had been skilled enough to get away with it, leaving no evidence that led to any solid clues. Did that mean that he’d get Everleigh, too, and no one would ever know why?
“I don’t really know for sure what it’s about,” he said, and she knew he was prevaricating. He’d turned to leave the room but swung around. “I’ll ask Melissa how much of it all I can share with you and we’ll talk when I get back, okay?”
As though she had any choice... Still, he was being considerate. Nice, even.