her vision, looking large and angry and masculine, capable of protection, of violence, every inch the cop he’d once been. “Sorry, babe. You don’t have a choice. I’m the one with the gun.”
Though she knew he wasn’t threatening her, she fell back a step and bumped into the conference table. “I thought you said you didn’t carry anymore, that the recoil messed with your balance.”
“I said I didn’t like to carry,” he corrected her. “I never said I couldn’t. I can and will if the circumstances require, and these do. So I’ll ask again, your place or a hotel?”
“My place,” she said finally, because the narrow house had three different floors. She could get away from him if she needed to, away from his presence and the memory of that chilly transformation, when he’d gone from aroused to stone-cold in an instant.
He tipped his head in assent and gestured toward the elevators. “You go. I’ll cover you.”
And he did just that as they left the building, eyes probing every niche, every shadow. Oddly, instead of making her feel safer, his vigilance made her feel more endangered.
More exposed.
EDWARD WATCHED from his vantage point at a small pastry shop down the street from Boston General. Open late, the six-table restaurant had allowed him to watch in comfort, with the added benefits of strong coffee and delicacies he’d paid for singly, much to the waitress’s amusement.
Let her laugh. The moment Falco and the doctor emerged, Edward tossed his napkin, drained his espresso and dropped a decent tip on the table before he strode out into the night and hailed a cab.
“Where to?” the driver asked once the door was shut, closing Edward in with the scents of cheap plastic and too many other people.
“Wait one moment.”
That earned him a startled look, but the cabbie shrugged. “Meter’s running.”
Edward watched as Falco’s Mercedes emerged from the Boston General underground lot. “Follow that car.”
“You some sort of a stalker or something?” But the cabbie said it with a laugh.
Edward snorted. “Hardly. We’ve been at an office party. The boss asked me to make sure they get home okay, but not to make a big deal about it, if you know what I mean.”
The driver glanced in the rearview mirror, making Edward worry that the lie was too elaborate. Then the cabbie’s eyes slid away and he steered them out into the sparse midnight traffic on Kneeland Street. “Bummer. I was hoping for something more exciting.”
“Sorry to disappoint.”
They tailed the Mercedes to a row of neat, narrow houses just outside überexpensive Beacon Hill. “Don’t pull up too close when they get out,” Edward warned. “The boss didn’t want his top VP to know I was checking up.”
“Gotcha.” The driver rolled to a stop in the lee of a big green van, so they were partially blocked from view as Falco and the bitch emerged and walked up a brick path toward her house. They walked near each other but not together, separated by a telling empty space, and by their stiff, stilted postures. The cabbie noticed it, too. “Looks like they had a fight in the car. That, or the drink’s wearing off.”
“Either way, I’m just making sure they get home safe.” He watched as the doctor unlocked the front door and Falco shielded her with his body, just like a good little cop. They went in together. The door shut. The lights snapped on inside. Edward leaned back and smiled. “That’ll do. You can drop me at the closest T stop.”
The driver’s reflection in the rearview mirror looked faintly insulted that his fare would rather take public transport the rest of the way home. In reality, Edward planned to switch cabs at the station, then again at least once more before giving his home address. Just in case.
But as the cab rolled back onto the street, those practicalities were lost in a wave of satisfaction.
It wouldn’t be long now.
ERIK CHECKED every room in Meg’s house, from the
Though she knew he wasn’t threatening her, she fell back a step and bumped into the conference table. “I thought you said you didn’t carry anymore, that the recoil messed with your balance.”
“I said I didn’t like to carry,” he corrected her. “I never said I couldn’t. I can and will if the circumstances require, and these do. So I’ll ask again, your place or a hotel?”
“My place,” she said finally, because the narrow house had three different floors. She could get away from him if she needed to, away from his presence and the memory of that chilly transformation, when he’d gone from aroused to stone-cold in an instant.
He tipped his head in assent and gestured toward the elevators. “You go. I’ll cover you.”
And he did just that as they left the building, eyes probing every niche, every shadow. Oddly, instead of making her feel safer, his vigilance made her feel more endangered.
More exposed.
EDWARD WATCHED from his vantage point at a small pastry shop down the street from Boston General. Open late, the six-table restaurant had allowed him to watch in comfort, with the added benefits of strong coffee and delicacies he’d paid for singly, much to the waitress’s amusement.
Let her laugh. The moment Falco and the doctor emerged, Edward tossed his napkin, drained his espresso and dropped a decent tip on the table before he strode out into the night and hailed a cab.
“Where to?” the driver asked once the door was shut, closing Edward in with the scents of cheap plastic and too many other people.
“Wait one moment.”
That earned him a startled look, but the cabbie shrugged. “Meter’s running.”
Edward watched as Falco’s Mercedes emerged from the Boston General underground lot. “Follow that car.”
“You some sort of a stalker or something?” But the cabbie said it with a laugh.
Edward snorted. “Hardly. We’ve been at an office party. The boss asked me to make sure they get home okay, but not to make a big deal about it, if you know what I mean.”
The driver glanced in the rearview mirror, making Edward worry that the lie was too elaborate. Then the cabbie’s eyes slid away and he steered them out into the sparse midnight traffic on Kneeland Street. “Bummer. I was hoping for something more exciting.”
“Sorry to disappoint.”
They tailed the Mercedes to a row of neat, narrow houses just outside überexpensive Beacon Hill. “Don’t pull up too close when they get out,” Edward warned. “The boss didn’t want his top VP to know I was checking up.”
“Gotcha.” The driver rolled to a stop in the lee of a big green van, so they were partially blocked from view as Falco and the bitch emerged and walked up a brick path toward her house. They walked near each other but not together, separated by a telling empty space, and by their stiff, stilted postures. The cabbie noticed it, too. “Looks like they had a fight in the car. That, or the drink’s wearing off.”
“Either way, I’m just making sure they get home safe.” He watched as the doctor unlocked the front door and Falco shielded her with his body, just like a good little cop. They went in together. The door shut. The lights snapped on inside. Edward leaned back and smiled. “That’ll do. You can drop me at the closest T stop.”
The driver’s reflection in the rearview mirror looked faintly insulted that his fare would rather take public transport the rest of the way home. In reality, Edward planned to switch cabs at the station, then again at least once more before giving his home address. Just in case.
But as the cab rolled back onto the street, those practicalities were lost in a wave of satisfaction.
It wouldn’t be long now.
ERIK CHECKED every room in Meg’s house, from the
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