“Revenge?” He takes the final bite of his food and lands the plate on the coffee table. Shep stretches his arm over the sofa, and his fingers land within an inch of my shoulder. “What else did she say?”
“Nothing we didn’t already know. She mentioned that Madeline worked for Hathaway Enterprises, Sophia’s dad. She was the redhead in the lavender dress. Kiera made it sound like Sophia was making moves on Lucas Lane.”
He gives a quick blink. “Madeline’s boyfriend.”
“Yup. But I’m telling you, Shep, something is up with Kiera and Lucas.”
He inches back as if I stunned him. “That came out of the blue. What gives?”
Pixie trots over and sniffs my plate before I land it on the coffee table and scoop her into my arms.
“I just have a gut feeling.” I nod while giving him the crazy eyes. There’s no way I’m telling Shep about my visions, but it doesn’t mean I can’t play it off as a mean hunch.
He stares me down a good long while.
“All right. I’ll look into it. I’ll talk to Lucas.” He leans in a notch. “As in I’ll talk to Lucas alone. And for the love of all things holy, do not tour his office.”
“Ooh—Lucas has an office, what does he do?”
Shep’s lips knot up. “None of your business. But do you know what is your business?” He picks up his plate. “A mean lasagna. I’m going for seconds. You want in?” He picks up my plate as well.
“A man who is willing to serve?” I tease. “You’ll never see me refusing that offer.”
Pixie and I watch as Shep makes his way to the kitchen.
I pull the sweet kitty close. “Now those are some hot buns he’s wielding.”
“What’s that?” Shep asks as he comes back and lands a few inches closer to me this time on the couch.
“Nothing,” I bite down on a smile. “I can’t help but note you’re within cuddling range. Is that what happens next, Detective Wexler?”
He takes a breath. “I was hoping the offer to go over one of my manuscripts was still open.”
“A consultation on the mob? You bet. Speaking of which, I can’t thank you enough for letting me talk to my father a few weeks back. Oh, and before you go, you have to see the placemat I’m working on for my Uncle Vinnie. I figure it’s been a couple of months since I sent him that pillow I cross-stitched, and he’s probably worried sick about me.”
His brows twitch as he swallows down a bite.
“What’s the design this time?”
“Since our safe word is meow, I found a pattern of a cat dangling from a tree by her tail. I’m adding the meow part myself. I can’t believe I’ve waited this long to get into a domesticated hobby. The old me would have hated doing something so tedious. She was a partier and a night owl, and have I mentioned she had poor decision-making skills?”
“I was able to deduce that myself.” The underpinnings of a genuine smile curve on his lips.
“You’re not funny.”
He tilts his head. “Do you know what else isn’t funny?”
“The fact you’re going for thirds?”
“That.” He winces as he lands the plate on the coffee table and pulls out his phone. “And this.” He fiddles with his screen. “I got this in the mail. No name on the envelope, so I opened it. I’m guessing it’s for you.”
He shows me a picture of a note with the words, are you going to stay or keep running?
“Oh my God.” The words stream from me in a panic.
Shep nods. “I’m sorry, Bowie. It looks as if someone has found you out.”
“Oh no.” I drop my head between my legs, and Pixie hops off my lap before getting squished like a tin can.
“Hey”—Shep rubs my back—“I think it’s going to be okay.”
“Says the one who isn’t staring down the barrel of life in prison.”
“You’d hardly get life—maybe twenty years, tops.”
“Well, there’s a consolation,” I riot as I tip backward into the cushion of the sofa. “You do realize there’s no way to comfort someone with the idea of going up the river.”
“I’m not trying to do that, Bowie.” He gives my shoulder a quick squeeze before attempting to slink away, but I put that catcher's mitt of his right back where it belongs.
“Oh my word, yes.” I turn my back to him and point to my other shoulder. “Come on, Wexler. I made you lasagna and shook down a suspect for you. It’s been a long day.”
“Fine.” He moves his body close to mine, and that woodsy cologne of his ensconces me while his strong, capable hands get right to work.
“Oh yes,” I moan a little too enthusiastically. “Now we’re talking. No slacking. I’ll let you know when you’re done.”
“A woman who gives orders,” he muses. “I’m not used to that.”
“Really? Nora looks as if she had a list of demands tattooed to your forehead.”
A dark laugh bounces from him.
“Maybe so.”
“Is that what went wrong?” I turn my head to the right. “You can’t handle strong women?” If he says no, I’m dust. As much as I’d like to fake a demure persona, it would only last as long as my next cup of coffee.
“Don’t worry, Kitten.” He gives my shoulder a quick tweak. “I can handle strong women.”
“Then can I ask what happened with Nora?” I know I shouldn’t pry, but a part of me wants to know if he’s still hung up on her.
“I ended it,” he answers flatly as if reading my mind. “Nora and I were going through the motions. I figured if we let it play out it would have been a disaster. She agreed with me. And that’s all she wrote.”
“And then you tagged and bagged everything that moved.” I sneak a quick glance his way. “Tilly filled me in on all the dirty deets. I’m not judging you. It was your right.”
“That’s an awfully crude estimate, but surprisingly accurate. But I’m done with that now.”
Shoot. No
