the pizza place include some soup. Hope you like minestrone."
She managed to sit at the table with him, but she only ate a few bites before she downed another pain pill. "Sorry to be such poor company, Cowboy, but I think I better go back to bed."
Tate opened his mouth to make a smart-aleck remark, but none came to mind, so he had another slice of pizza. After putting the leftovers in the fridge, he pulled out his notes. There had to be something he was over-looking. But several hours later when Byrony grew restless in her sleep, he still hadn’t discovered anything. Shutting down his laptop, he approached the bed and pulled the blanket back over her leg. But she immediately kicked it away again, and gave a muffled cry.
"Wake up, Sunshine," he soothed, reaching for her shoulder.
Instead, she launched herself into his arms, sobbing. While she clung to him, he eased down and sat on the edge of the mattress. Her vulnerability and fright cause his guilt to rise up again.
"You’re okay, sweetheart." Tate put one arm around her and smoothed her hair with his other hand. "I’ve got you. It’s all right."
Still sobbing, Byrony crawled into his lap. "I’m scared," she whispered. "Don’t let them hurt me."
"Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe." He shifted so that he was fully on the bed, leaning against the headboard with her head resting against his chest.
Slowly, her crying subsided, but instead of moving, she snuggled closer with her uninjured arm around his neck. Tate listened to her breathing grow more steady and even, until he knew she’d gone back to sleep. But she felt so right in his arms that he couldn’t quite bring himself to get up. He allowed himself to savor the enjoyment of holding her for a few more minutes.
The ringing of his cell phone awakened Tate, and he squinted against the bright sunlight streaming through a gap in the drapes. Byrony lay curled against him, her bottom fitted snugly against his arousal.
Back off, Madison!
Carefully, he moved away from her, but she turned with him and when he sat up, her eyes popped open, wide with surprise. "What – Did we sleep in the same bed last night?"
"You had a nightmare, needed a little comfort to go back to sleep." Shrugging, Tate rose awkwardly, his leg stiff from being in one position too long. As he gimped over to the table, he glanced at Byrony and saw her face blazing with embarrassment. "Trust me, if anything else had happened, you’d remember."
He extracted his now silent phone from his jacket pocket. One missed call. As he punched up the voicemail, Byrony beat a hasty retreat into the bathroom. Running his hand through his tangled hair, Tate called back his buddy, Tommy Finlay in Chicago.
"Got info for you on Justin Saunders," Tommy said without preamble. "The guy had a DUI three years ago in Detroit, hit another car and caused some major injuries. He served ninety days and got fined fifty grand in restitution."
Tate gave a low whistle. "That’s a chunk of change. Think he paid it?"
Tommy gave a sarcastic snort. "Doubt it. His credit rating is crap."
"Interesting," Tate murmured. "Thanks, Tommy. You’re a man after my heart doing that credit check."
"I try," his old friend retorted. "But I’m not the one hanging out on hoity-toity Mackinac Island."
"It’s not all it’s hyped up to be." Tate assured him. "There are bad dudes here, same as Chicago."
"Yeah, but the scenery’s better." Tommy quipped. "Call me if you need anything else."
Thanking his buddy again, he rang off. Then, thinking of Tommy’s crack about scenery, Tate picked up the shopping bag and rapped on the bathroom door.
"Thought you might need some things," he explained when Bryony opened the door a crack.
"Thanks." She grabbed the bag and shut the door again, so he ambled back over to the table and booted up his laptop.
By the time Byrony re-emerged, freshly showered and in clean clothes, he’d discovered a piece of news he couldn’t wait to share. But first,
She managed to sit at the table with him, but she only ate a few bites before she downed another pain pill. "Sorry to be such poor company, Cowboy, but I think I better go back to bed."
Tate opened his mouth to make a smart-aleck remark, but none came to mind, so he had another slice of pizza. After putting the leftovers in the fridge, he pulled out his notes. There had to be something he was over-looking. But several hours later when Byrony grew restless in her sleep, he still hadn’t discovered anything. Shutting down his laptop, he approached the bed and pulled the blanket back over her leg. But she immediately kicked it away again, and gave a muffled cry.
"Wake up, Sunshine," he soothed, reaching for her shoulder.
Instead, she launched herself into his arms, sobbing. While she clung to him, he eased down and sat on the edge of the mattress. Her vulnerability and fright cause his guilt to rise up again.
"You’re okay, sweetheart." Tate put one arm around her and smoothed her hair with his other hand. "I’ve got you. It’s all right."
Still sobbing, Byrony crawled into his lap. "I’m scared," she whispered. "Don’t let them hurt me."
"Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe." He shifted so that he was fully on the bed, leaning against the headboard with her head resting against his chest.
Slowly, her crying subsided, but instead of moving, she snuggled closer with her uninjured arm around his neck. Tate listened to her breathing grow more steady and even, until he knew she’d gone back to sleep. But she felt so right in his arms that he couldn’t quite bring himself to get up. He allowed himself to savor the enjoyment of holding her for a few more minutes.
The ringing of his cell phone awakened Tate, and he squinted against the bright sunlight streaming through a gap in the drapes. Byrony lay curled against him, her bottom fitted snugly against his arousal.
Back off, Madison!
Carefully, he moved away from her, but she turned with him and when he sat up, her eyes popped open, wide with surprise. "What – Did we sleep in the same bed last night?"
"You had a nightmare, needed a little comfort to go back to sleep." Shrugging, Tate rose awkwardly, his leg stiff from being in one position too long. As he gimped over to the table, he glanced at Byrony and saw her face blazing with embarrassment. "Trust me, if anything else had happened, you’d remember."
He extracted his now silent phone from his jacket pocket. One missed call. As he punched up the voicemail, Byrony beat a hasty retreat into the bathroom. Running his hand through his tangled hair, Tate called back his buddy, Tommy Finlay in Chicago.
"Got info for you on Justin Saunders," Tommy said without preamble. "The guy had a DUI three years ago in Detroit, hit another car and caused some major injuries. He served ninety days and got fined fifty grand in restitution."
Tate gave a low whistle. "That’s a chunk of change. Think he paid it?"
Tommy gave a sarcastic snort. "Doubt it. His credit rating is crap."
"Interesting," Tate murmured. "Thanks, Tommy. You’re a man after my heart doing that credit check."
"I try," his old friend retorted. "But I’m not the one hanging out on hoity-toity Mackinac Island."
"It’s not all it’s hyped up to be." Tate assured him. "There are bad dudes here, same as Chicago."
"Yeah, but the scenery’s better." Tommy quipped. "Call me if you need anything else."
Thanking his buddy again, he rang off. Then, thinking of Tommy’s crack about scenery, Tate picked up the shopping bag and rapped on the bathroom door.
"Thought you might need some things," he explained when Bryony opened the door a crack.
"Thanks." She grabbed the bag and shut the door again, so he ambled back over to the table and booted up his laptop.
By the time Byrony re-emerged, freshly showered and in clean clothes, he’d discovered a piece of news he couldn’t wait to share. But first,
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