job, so starting tomorrow Iâm on my own dime.â
âHe pays a per diem?â Philip asked.
âOnly as long as I keep up my success rate,â she joked. But not really. She was lucky he paid any expenses at all. Most bondsmen didnât.
âYou could move in with me,â Philip suggested. His voice was neutral, but she could feel his muscles pull her closer.
âYeah, that would be a good way to keep myself out of your bed,â she answered with a wry chuckle. Not.
âI have a guest room.â He tipped her chin up. âDonât you trust me?â
âItâs not a matter of trust, Philip. Itâs a matter of prudence.â
âHmm,â he said, and kissed her.
She gave a hum of enjoyment as she opened to him, loving the taste of him in her mouth and the smell of him surrounding her. She was getting used to touching him, having his body pressed up against hers. She liked it. She liked it a lot. Which was why this whole thing was so dangerous.
But before she could pull away, he did.
âLetâs get out of here,â he said. âI have an idea.â
So did she. She just hoped his wasnât the same as hers.
Because then sheâd be in big trouble.
Not that she wasnât already.
âWhere are we going?â she asked when theyâd gotten back to the Jeep and were bumping down the dirt road.
âI realized weâve been going about this canyon thing the wrong way.â
âOh?â
âDidnât the old ladies say the kids hid out in some kind of ruins in that canyon?â
âThatâs how the story went.â
âWell, have we seen any ruins yet?â
âNope.â She slapped her forehead as it dawned on her where he was going. âLord, why didnât we think of that before?â
âPretty dumb not to check the archaeological maps, eh?â
âOr talk to someone. Do you know anyone in the ruins business?â
He thought for a minute, then nodded. âYeah. I know someone who works as an archaeologist at the Museum of Indian Arts and Culture in Santa Fe. We could call her.â
Luce didnât know why the instant he said âherâ Luceâs insides suddenly churned into one big, irritated knot. She certainly didnât want to know how Philip knew âher.â Or how well.
âSounds good,â she forced herself to say, and turned to look out the passenger window until she could get her frown under control.
âRenataâs great,â he said, oblivious to the fact that Luce didnât give a tinkerâs damn how great Renata was. âSheâs one of those women who walks into a room and lights it up with her presence and enthusiasm,â he continued, and Luce set her jaw. âShe moved here from somewhere in Europe when she was a teenager and has been studying Indians and ruins ever since. Sheâs absolutely beautiful,â he said, and Luce wanted to lean over and strangle the breath out of him so heâd stop talking about the stupid bâ âYouâd never know she just turned seventy.â
Sevenâ
Luce whipped him a glance and he returned a guileless smile. The rat. Heâd known exactly what he was doing, and her reaction to it.
âDelightful. Canât wait to meet her,â Luce said. And wondered about the sad state of her sanity. But she didnât have time to wonder too much, because just then Philipâs cell phone rang.
He grabbed it off the console and glanced at the screen. âItâs Ted. Maybe he found something for us. Hey, buddy,â he said into the phone. âWhatâs up?â He listened for a moment, then said, âWeâre heading that way right now.â After another moment he looked at his watch and said, âSure, weâll meet you there about six.â Another pause, then a grin. âYep, sheâll be with me.â
When he hung up, she tipped her head at him expectantly.
C. J. Cherryh
Learning to Kill: Stories
John O'Riley
Brenda Sinclair
Christopher George
Stephen Lloyd Jones
Karl Iagnemma
Celya Bowers
Jill Gregory
Aria Cunningham