Dark and Deadly

How wrong she’d have been.

“I need to do this, Paul. I’ve been reeling since Todd was killed. I’ve let myself be blown from here to there by everything that’s happened. I have to find my center, find me again.” And why the hell was she explaining it to him?

Because he’d stood by her.

Because he’d apologized.

Because he was so obviously miserable.

She ignored the little voice in her head and put her hand on his outstretched arm, the one blocking the way.

“I need to go.”

He moved aside and let her roll the suitcases past.

“Torie?”

“Yes?”

“Will you dance with me?”

“He asked you to dance?”

“Yeah.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Pam demanded as they rolled her luggage to the room.

“I guess it means he wants to dance with me at the partner’s dinner.”

“Duh, yeah. But what else does it mean?”

“For heaven’s sake, Pam, I have no idea. I mean, he’s all sexy and serious, and he’s asking me to save him a dance. How the hell…” She caught sight of Pam’s face. “What?”

“You said he was sexy,” she said, sounding stunned.

“So?” It took Torie three tries to get the door open.

“So,” Pam said, shutting the door behind them, going to hang the dresses. “I’ve never heard you call him sexy before.”

“Cripes, Pam, I slept with him.”

“I know, but you didn’t say it was good. You didn’t call him sexy, you didn’t say anything about it.”

“Well, it’s not like I go around detailing my love life.”

“Ha!” Pam laughed. “Like you have one. So, I got a question for ya…”

“Open those Cokes and pour me one before you start asking your probing questions.”

“’kay.”

“What’s the question?”

“‘Do ya love him, Loretta?’”

The movie line, from Moonstruck, had never failed to make her laugh. This time, however, it hit Torie like a fist to the solar plexus. She sat down on the coffee table, feeling as if the wind had escaped her and she couldn’t draw breath.

“Torie? Torie?” Pam hurried over, crouched down. “What is it?”

“Oh, my God, Pammie,” she managed. She felt like she’d been socked in the gut.

When Paul’s phone rang, he ignored it the first time. Then thinking it might be Torie, he raced to get it. Sometime in the night, and throughout the day he’d realized the impossible. The improbable.

Not only was he in love with Torie, he had been since his sophomore year in college.

No wonder he had indigestion.

When he checked the caller ID, it was Tibbet.

“Hey, you called?”

“Yeah. We’re watching your house. Thought you should know.”

“Thanks. Torie’s not here.”

“What? Where is she?”

Paul hesitated. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll text that to you. Try and keep it private. There’s someone on watch for her, too.”

Tibbet grunted. “Yeah. I get it.”

“So, what now?”

“Nothing. Go on to bed, get up, go to work, just like the rest of us slobs,” he said, and Paul could hear the ironic twist in his voice. “But if you hear anything, don’t be a hero, okay? Call nine-one-one. Call me. You got it?”

“Got it.”

“Hey.”

“Yeah?”