When he lowered his head to hers, she didn’t argue.
Chapter Fourteen
Lowell stood over Brandon’s hospital bed. In sleep, the boy couldn’t cause any trouble. He lay there so quiet and still.
Pressed against the white sheets with tubes sticking in him and machines beeping all around him brought back a memory. Brandon had had surgery as a kid. Both times his dark hair had spread out around him and a pain-relief drip hung nearby.
Lowell didn’t do many parental things, believing that in the family division of labor those fell to Sonya. But medical crises had always been mandatory events for both parents. Right now Brandon’s actions in messing up his job had Lowell furious, but he knew his place was here. Even if he didn’t have this time to waste.
After endless rounds of pacing and numerous conversations that started with the doom and gloom of a lifetime coma, Lowell finally had to send Sonya down to the cafeteria for coffee to keep her from crying all over both of them. Only she could turn a simple hospital stay into a deathbed session.
A severe concussion, some broken bones and an unwillingness to wake up. The doctors assured Lowell the reaction was normal in light of Brandon’s injuries. No reason to worry yet. With his age and health, there was little cause to worry that this was anything other than the usual protective coma the body did in these circumstances.
Not that Lowell was inclined to do so.
“He okay?” Palmer walked in with his arm in a cast and cuts all over his face.
“We’re waiting for him to come out of it.”
And Brandon would. They’d been lucky. Mark hadn’t made it out. The police said something about other bodies, but Lowell hadn’t gotten a list yet. He’d answered questions in the ambulance. The police had many of them, including why he didn’t come to them with the threats.
As if they could help. Of course, McBain and his team hadn’t been much better. Maybe Palmer was right about how hiring outside sources had been a mistake. Lowell had already decided to hold a meeting tomorrow to walk through what had happened tonight.
McBain had a lot to answer for, and he was not alone. Someone started this. Lowell would end it.
Palmer stood on the opposite side of Brandon’s bed and stared down at him. “His first concern was for you.”
Lowell looked up. “Meaning?”
“Injured and a mess, he called out for you. The room was partly on fire and crumbling around us, and he was the only one shouting for you. Not Ms. Troutman. Not even me. Brandon.”
“Probably hoped he could find my wallet before anyone else did.” When silence greeted his comment, Lowell glanced up. “What is it?”
Palmer opened his mouth as if to say something, then shook his head. “Nothing, sir.”
“You may speak freely. This is your one opportunity, so use it wisely.”
“I’m telling you he got to you first.” The words rushed out of Palmer. “I didn’t hear any talk about money or the business. He wanted to find you and nearly killed himself doing it.”
“You’re dissatisfied with my parenting skills.” That seemed fair since Lowell was not impressed with
Palmer’s protection skills. Something had gone haywire yesterday and cost lives, lives he’d likely be sued over, and Lowell was determined to hold someone responsible. If it was the man in front of him, the man he’d known the longest, so be it.
Palmer waved the conversation off. “I’m sorry. This isn’t my business.”
“You seem to think it is.”
Palmer looked as if he was going to drop the topic, but then he picked it up again. “It’s just that for a few minutes tonight I saw Brandon for what he’s becoming. And he’s not a kid anymore.”
Lowell knew this was a touchy subject. Palmer’s only child, a son, died in Iraq. He’d deployed and failed to make it through the first week. It gave Palmer a soft spot for Brandon, which infuriated Lowell. The last thing his son needed was one more person coddling him.
“Noted.”
Palmer’s face flushed, but he didn’t pursue the conversation. “Yes, sir.”
He turned to leave, but Lowell stopped him. “I want everyone in the office tomorrow—you, Aaron, Angie. It’s time to end this thing.”
“Sir?”
“Now you’re dismissed.”
* * *
“
I
LIKE YOUR PLACE.”
Risa delivered her assessment from just inside the door. She hadn’t ventured out of the entry or even let go of the doorknob behind her back.
She stood next to the closet, looking every bit the lost pup in a new place. If she remained that still and lifeless for much longer, Aaron might have to take her back to the hospital.
He wondered if it was fear or just the result of so many tragedies. She’s seen a lot of blood and death. The doctors had checked for shock, but he guessed it could be delayed.
Having her here should be enough. He’d been thinking of nothing else since he refused his own hospital bed and took up residence in the chair next to hers. But he wanted her healthy and secure, not terrified and ready to slip into hiding.
Looking at her now, he wondered if he should have insisted she stay another night. Once they’d both rested and made sure the sparks arcing between them amounted to more than a reaction to the violence they’d experienced.
The hospital staff had given her scrubs. The oversize and shapeless green shirt hung over her slim shoulders, making her look tiny and so very vulnerable. She had a smudge on her cheek and tiny pieces of debris in her hair. Like him, she desperately needed a shower and two days in bed to recover from all they’d seen and survived.
If he could have tolerated being away from her, he would have dropped her at her place and left her alone to recharge. But that plan made his stomach heave, so he never suggested the option. Neither did she, he noticed.
“It’s a basic condo. Nothing special.” He’d moved in after his fiancée decided he’d be better on his own than with her. Pam had picked out almost everything in the last place, so he got the leftovers and never bothered to fill in with anything else.
Glancing around now, he tried to see the bachelor pad through her eyes. Beige carpet. Beige walls. Beige couch. He didn’t have a lot of creativity when it came to decorating. He hadn’t even put up a Christmas tree or anything else festive for the holidays because he didn’t own anything.
There were better ways to spend his time. He was sure of that. He liked the furniture comfortable and the countertops unfussy, but he didn’t have many other rules.
A balcony lined the far wall of the large living room. Off the main room stood the kitchen and the long hall to two matching master bedrooms. Tucked out of sight and off to the side sat the den, a room filled with papers and guided by very little organization.
He took a few steps and realized she wasn’t behind him. A lame joke died on his kips. “Why are you making a face?”
She blinked a few times. “It’s nothing.”
“Definitely something.” The stunned look suggested the “something” was pretty big.
He didn’t intend to jump on top of her the second she got close, and he was ticked off she might think that. He wasn’t an animal. He could wait for the timing to be right. Until then, he wanted to be near her, which was a new-to-him feeling he refused to analyze too closely.
Her eyes glanced around the condo again. “As someone who once lost a house, I can tell you there’s nothing ‘basic’ about the place where you find comfort and release. Having a home is important. Losing it is devastating. It’s not something I’d wish on anyone. Forget the embarrassment, there’s the vulnerability of it all.”
“Of course.”
“Even if it’s not a mansion, it means something. I’m a nester by nature, so my home meant everything to me and I didn’t realize until I lost it.”
This wasn’t the first hint she’d dropped about her past. There was something about boyfriends being liars. While that claim hit too close to their relationship, he sensed he was not the only man in her past guilty of that sin.
“Tell me what you mean by lost?” he asked even though part of him feared the answer.
Her gaze went to the floor. “Probably a conversation for another day.”
Some things needed to be said. Besides that, he wanted to know all he could about her. All of her, the good and the bad. And if someone treated her like crap, he’d stand up and stop it.
“I’m awake now,” he said as a way to urge her to talk. Though he could drop at any second.
“Once we’re done with me, we’ll start on you. So, is a walk through my past really what you want to do?”
“Not even close.” His interest in the topic dropped to a crash. Dread took its place. When a woman wanted to exchange past relationship information, it never turned out well for the male of the partnership.
“Then why are we still talking?” She moved this time. She walked into the room and kept going until she stood right in front of him.
Her hands didn’t move, but he felt her words with the impact of a touch. He gazed into her big eyes and sweet face. She looked so soft and sweet and the things he wanted to do to her were anything but.
Stepping back was the right answer.
He reached for her instead. His hands smoothed over her shoulders, letting the warmth of her skin spur him on. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes with you, Risa. I’m trying really hard not to fumble again.”
“That’s sweet.” This time she did touch him. Her arms wound around his neck until he had to recite the alphabet to keep from tugging her close and trailing kisses over the bruise on her flat stomach. “Very sweet.”
She really wasn’t getting this.
When her fingers trailed down his chest and kept heading for his stomach, he put his hand over hers. Much more of that and they wouldn’t talk again tonight. “I’m feeling the exact opposite of sweet right now.”
She tilted her head up and he saw her sad face. The look could only be described as pity. He had no idea what that meant and he wasn’t sure he liked it.
Until she spoke.
“How about we make a deal?” Her hand rested on the waistband of his pants. “Later tonight or tomorrow we’ll go through the biographical information and analyze how we came to be the people we are—”
If she was trying to kill the promise made by her roaming fingers, that did it. “Can I vote we skip that part completely?”
“But for now we’ll be happy we somehow survived the night, fast-forward our dating life and not worry about what all of this means.”
Desire screamed through his senses. He’d never experienced a blast of longing quite like this before.
He went with honesty since chivalry failed the first time around. “It is taking every ounce of control I have left not to drag you into my bedroom, but I don’t want you to have regrets.”
“I can’t imagine hating anything I did with you and wanting to take it back later.”
“I appreciate the vote of confidence. I’m trying to figure out if it adds more pressure.”
“Not to sound too forward, but I’m a sure thing.” Her hand moved lower. “For you only, but definitely for you.”
“If you’re trying to smash my control into about a billion tiny pieces, keep saying stuff like that.”
“I could come up with a nicer way to say it, maybe something more flattering to me and less desperate sounding since I really don’t feel desperate, but I thought after all we’ve been through it might be better just to lay it out there. We had to learn something for all that running and gunning, right?”
“Definitely.”
“Then I say we ignore the pleasantries and do what we want to do. You have my respect. That was earned long ago, and my feelings aren’t going to suddenly disappear.”
The last hold on his control snapped. “Then why are we still talking?”
Chapter Fifteen
Angie ducked into the shadows next to the brick building. Cold air whipped around her, soaking through her flannel coat and seeping deep into her bones.
The night was as wet as it was bitingly cold. The type of night when a smart person stayed inside and didn’t come out until spring.
The snow came in bursts. The flurries fell thick enough to cover the ground and cloud her vision.
After everything that had happened tonight, she should be sitting in her apartment, drinking wine and being grateful she hadn’t chosen the seat Mark picked first. She’d barely known the man except to fight off his halfhearted advances and read his company financial reports. Now he was dead. Killed at an office Christmas party no one wanted to go to but she insisted on holding.
She wasn’t sure if the sequence of events was ironic or just tragic. Either way, she’d never look at a Christmas tree the same way again. Seeing it half burned and smashed after a one-story fall made her want to take down the fake one she’d bought for her dining room table.
She’d probably never insist on a company holiday party again, either. The infighting and complaints. The costs. And now she had to add almost being blown up and murdered to her list of items that made her holiday party insufferable.
If she were the type of person who built lasting and meaningful relationships, she might spend the evening crying and wondering what could have been. As it was, she couldn’t break through the numbness filling her bones. The chill outside was nothing compared to the frigid wind blowing through her.
But she had to do something. Hours of building the worst-case scenario in her mind couldn’t be worse than trying to work around the mess she’d created.
That was the only explanation for her being outside Aaron’s condo after three in the morning. She’d left the police station after hours of intensive questioning and let the cab drive her around for close to twenty minutes. The keys to her apartment never left her purse.
Truth was this was not how she had envisioned the evening. If the party had gone as planned, she’d be in an expensive hotel ordering room service with Lowell. This was supposed to be their night. Even with Sonya attending the party, Lowell had bet she’d cry off early with a headache. That was how she operated. He made her do something she hated and she punished him with medical aliments.
When the night exploded, Angie had been even more convinced it would end well for her. No way would someone get the whole way to Lowell. That was just not how these things worked. So she’d seen an early night followed by a hotel.