cheeriest, most professional tone.
Rafe glanced over at me. “You think?” Both voice and glance were hostile.
“Look,” I said, “about what I said earlier...”
He shook his head. “No need to apologize. Delicate lady like yourself, ain’t surprising you get twitchety ‘round somebody like me.”
Twitchety? “You make it sound like I’m a hundred years old,” I said. “I’m not twitchety. And even if I were, I think anyone would agree I have reason to be careful, knowing what I know about you.”
“And what do you know about me?” He turned his entire body towards me. It seemed I had made the mistake of getting his undivided attention. Not something I wanted. I took an unobtrusive half-step back, and saw his lips quirk. “Scared?” He moved a little closer.
“Should I be?” My voice was steadier than I felt, but with a slight wobble nonetheless.
He grinned. “I don’t know. Should you?”
I hesitated. Probably. Here I was, in an empty house — a house where another woman had been murdered less than a week ago — and I was alone, except for an ex-convict who had had the opportunity to kill her, and who was leaning over me, looking like he wouldn’t mind taking a bite. He was close enough that I could feel his breath stirring the hair at my temple. It took all my self-control to say coolly, “If I thought I was in any danger, I wouldn’t have agreed to meet you. And, of course, I told my office where I was going and with whom.”
Rafe nodded sagely. “Course.”
He straightened up and added, “So if anything happens to you, they’ll know I did it. Smart.”
I nodded. It would have been, yes. A pity I hadn’t thought of it until now.
He stepped back, giving me the chance to breathe again, and as he did, we could hear footsteps in the front part of the house. Slow, dragging steps, coming closer. My heart started beating faster. Rafe took a step forward, between me and the doorway. It must have been one of those automatic guy-things, for I certainly hadn’t given him any reason to want to protect me.
The footsteps turned into the hall. I held my breath. Any moment now, we’d be able to see someone through the open door. Rafe shifted his weight, distributing it properly for a fight. His muscles tensed and he flexed his hands. I could see what Todd had meant when he said that he wouldn’t want to tangle with Rafe. I wouldn’t want to tangle with him either, although there was no denying that the way he moved, smooth and controlled like a predatory animal, was beautiful.
The footsteps stopped. Then a quavering voice called out, “Who’s there?”
Chapter 7.
I started breathing again as a small, shriveled, black woman stepped into the doorway. Her face was so wrinkled she resembled a raisin, but she looked like she might have been pretty in her youth. At the moment, her gray hair was sticking out every which way, as if no one had taken the trouble to comb it for several days, and she was wearing a stained and faded housecoat and fuzzy, blue slippers. She blinked from one to the other of us. Rafe relaxed, although he didn’t move away from me.
“Morning, ma’am.” His voice was surprisingly polite, with the merest hint of a tremor. Maybe he hadn’t been as unaffected as he had appeared.
The old lady squinted at him, then shuffled a couple of steps closer. Finally, a toothless smile spread over her face and she put her hand on his arm. Her quavery voice was delighted. “Tyrell! I ain’t seen you in forever. Why didn’t you tell me you was comin’, you naughty boy?”
“Who’s Tyrell?” I murmured. Rafe didn’t respond. His attention was focused on the beaming ancient in front of him.
“I didn’t know it myself till just now.”
“Well, it’s great to see you, baby! And lookit here! Who’s this you brought home to show your mama?”
She peered around him to me. I smiled politely. She smiled back, widely, before she focused her attention back on Rafe. Or
Rafe glanced over at me. “You think?” Both voice and glance were hostile.
“Look,” I said, “about what I said earlier...”
He shook his head. “No need to apologize. Delicate lady like yourself, ain’t surprising you get twitchety ‘round somebody like me.”
Twitchety? “You make it sound like I’m a hundred years old,” I said. “I’m not twitchety. And even if I were, I think anyone would agree I have reason to be careful, knowing what I know about you.”
“And what do you know about me?” He turned his entire body towards me. It seemed I had made the mistake of getting his undivided attention. Not something I wanted. I took an unobtrusive half-step back, and saw his lips quirk. “Scared?” He moved a little closer.
“Should I be?” My voice was steadier than I felt, but with a slight wobble nonetheless.
He grinned. “I don’t know. Should you?”
I hesitated. Probably. Here I was, in an empty house — a house where another woman had been murdered less than a week ago — and I was alone, except for an ex-convict who had had the opportunity to kill her, and who was leaning over me, looking like he wouldn’t mind taking a bite. He was close enough that I could feel his breath stirring the hair at my temple. It took all my self-control to say coolly, “If I thought I was in any danger, I wouldn’t have agreed to meet you. And, of course, I told my office where I was going and with whom.”
Rafe nodded sagely. “Course.”
He straightened up and added, “So if anything happens to you, they’ll know I did it. Smart.”
I nodded. It would have been, yes. A pity I hadn’t thought of it until now.
He stepped back, giving me the chance to breathe again, and as he did, we could hear footsteps in the front part of the house. Slow, dragging steps, coming closer. My heart started beating faster. Rafe took a step forward, between me and the doorway. It must have been one of those automatic guy-things, for I certainly hadn’t given him any reason to want to protect me.
The footsteps turned into the hall. I held my breath. Any moment now, we’d be able to see someone through the open door. Rafe shifted his weight, distributing it properly for a fight. His muscles tensed and he flexed his hands. I could see what Todd had meant when he said that he wouldn’t want to tangle with Rafe. I wouldn’t want to tangle with him either, although there was no denying that the way he moved, smooth and controlled like a predatory animal, was beautiful.
The footsteps stopped. Then a quavering voice called out, “Who’s there?”
Chapter 7.
I started breathing again as a small, shriveled, black woman stepped into the doorway. Her face was so wrinkled she resembled a raisin, but she looked like she might have been pretty in her youth. At the moment, her gray hair was sticking out every which way, as if no one had taken the trouble to comb it for several days, and she was wearing a stained and faded housecoat and fuzzy, blue slippers. She blinked from one to the other of us. Rafe relaxed, although he didn’t move away from me.
“Morning, ma’am.” His voice was surprisingly polite, with the merest hint of a tremor. Maybe he hadn’t been as unaffected as he had appeared.
The old lady squinted at him, then shuffled a couple of steps closer. Finally, a toothless smile spread over her face and she put her hand on his arm. Her quavery voice was delighted. “Tyrell! I ain’t seen you in forever. Why didn’t you tell me you was comin’, you naughty boy?”
“Who’s Tyrell?” I murmured. Rafe didn’t respond. His attention was focused on the beaming ancient in front of him.
“I didn’t know it myself till just now.”
“Well, it’s great to see you, baby! And lookit here! Who’s this you brought home to show your mama?”
She peered around him to me. I smiled politely. She smiled back, widely, before she focused her attention back on Rafe. Or
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