Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
I didn’t like seeing women hurt, hence the Nelson fiasco, and I really didn’t like seeing how Laurel had been hurt.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Yeah, this is good.” She nodded to the bed, misunderstanding me.
My brain had stopped working. I reached out and brushed my fingertips over her soft skin, just to the side of the bruise on her arm. “I meant here.”
She sucked in a sharp breath and blinked in surprise. She hadn’t given me permission to touch her, and I sure as fuck hadn’t asked, but she didn’t stare back at me now with anger or fear. Only confusion swirled in her bottomless eyes.
Her words came out whisper-quiet. “I’m fine.”
The air in the room thickened until it was hard for either of us to breathe. It became difficult for me to think through this desire that fogged my head. In any other situation, I might have closed the distance between us. I would have gauged her reaction to me, and if she’d seemed willing, there was a chance I would have lowered my mouth to hers.
But Laurel Hayward was a job, and what I wanted didn’t matter. I needed to focus on keeping her safe from the man who had put those bruises on her, and nothing more.
Derrick’s announcement came through the open doorway. “Caroline’s pulling in.”
I turned and left Laurel standing there, her wide eyes haunting me even when she was gone from my sight. I made it to the front room just as Derrick pulled the door open.
Caroline Getty breezed in, dropped three ‘GO’ bags at her feet, and set her discerning gaze on me. She was in her early thirties, fit, and attractive, but the enormous chip on her shoulder meant she was difficult to work with. It turned simple conversation with her into torture.
“What, no tip?” She undid the buttons on her coat but didn’t take it off, indicating she wouldn’t be staying long.
Movement in the hall drew everyone’s attention, and when Laurel materialized, Caroline did a double-take at what the girl was wearing. She had to press her lips together to hold back a quip, but then her demeanor changed, sliding into one that was slightly more professional.
“Ms. Hayward,” she said, “I’m Deputy Getty.”
“It’s Laurel.”
The female marshal nodded as if to say, fair enough. “Caroline. I brought you some things from your place. Thanks for making an actual list. When I asked the last guy what he wanted, he just said, ‘My shit.’ Bet you’re ready for a change of clothes.”
She eyed Laurel’s leotard again, then gestured specifically to one of the three duffel bags beside the door.
“Thank you.” Laurel looked like she didn’t know what to make of the female marshal.
“Left one’s yours, Wheeler.” Caroline always used last names, and I doubted she took the time to learn anyone’s first. “They’re going to have to up my pay grade to whatever you’re making, Dunn. How the hell do you afford rent on that place?”
I had no response because I wanted to give her a wide berth. She’d come on to me once last year after we’d caught a fugitive, but I wasn’t interested in stepping into the mess of sleeping with a coworker. Plus, for as strong of a front as she put up, it seemed like she might be needy.
“You want to tell me why you’re on this case?” she asked, trying to appear disinterested and failing.
“Because of Nelson,” I said.
That drew a smirk. “Oh, yeah. How’s his nose?”
“Probably still broken.”
Her smirk grew into a smile. “Good.”
“You came all the way out here for a delivery?” Derrick asked.
“No, Bill got pulled into a thing and wanted me to brief you on the laptop. The email fragment was in Russian. No names, but it had the word ‘judge’ and two dates.”
“Which were?” I asked.
“January seventh,” which had been yesterday, “and the twentieth. The Feds think this could be another hit he’s planning.”
If it was, it meant they’d need to find this man in the next twelve days. Since I was always acutely aware of her, my gaze went to Laurel. She lingered like she wanted something but wasn’t sure how to ask.
I kept my tone casual. “What do you need?”
“I’d like to talk to Caroline. Alone.”
Her expression was empty, but the way she said it made me nervous.
Caroline didn’t have any issue with the request. She snatched up Laurel’s bag and motioned for her to lead the way before I could come up with a reason why I shouldn’t allow it.
8
LAUREL
Caroline eyed the bed then pointed to the indentations in the carpet. “Rearranging furniture? You feng shui-ing the place up?”
“I needed space to practice,” I said.
When I’d filled out the packing list, I’d asked for the pair of pointe shoes I’d used last week in rehearsal, and I was relieved to find them in the duffle bag she’d brought me. Even though it was carpeted in this room, I was eager to get them on. There was safety in routine, in the work. I sat on the edge of the bed, put a foot inside the slipper, and began to lace the ribbons.