Gossip was cheap, and necromancers loved a good bargain.
“I’ll use the gym at the barracks.” His gaze touched on the windows as if he might catch the neighbors peeking through them. “You don’t need more on your plate than you’ve already got.”
“You’re a nice guy, Boaz.” I’d had my doubts, given his reputation, but he was proving to be more than a handsome face. “I’m glad about that.”
“I have my moments,” he said quietly, not looking at me. “I’m trying, for you.” He attempted a smile, but it didn’t stick. “You’re nice too. You deserve the effort.”
A car horn blasting in the driveway spared me from overanalyzing what he’d said and why he couldn’t meet my eyes as he said it.
“My ride is here.” I tucked the bag behind me. “See you later?”
“I’m not sure where the night will take me.” He glanced up then. “I would like to try for dinner, if you don’t have plans.”
Beep.
Beep.
Beeeeeeeeep.
Cass, who must have snuck out the window, hadn’t wasted time circling back for me.
“No plans.” I backed out of the kitchen. “Dinner sounds good.”
“Let me walk you out.” He flashed a smile as he edged around me. “It’s the least I can do.”
“No.” I threw myself at him. Literally. Like I was bearhugging him to prevent him from opening the door and IDing the car in the driveway. “I’m late for Zumba class.” I was going to murder Cass for drawing attention to herself and her ride after I warned her Boaz saw us last night. “No time for chivalry.” I tipped back my head. “I’ve got to run, or I’ll miss it.”
The excess of affection earned me a curious glance, but he just smiled. “All right.”
“Bye.” I patted him on the chest. “Be safe out there.”
Boaz cut his eyes to the crack in the door when I opened it, and I was about to slam it behind me when he slid his gaze over me to fasten onto the car and its driver. “You too.”
Only after I shot from the house like a cat with a firecracker tied to its tail did I replay those last seconds.
You too.
Did that mean bye too? Or be safe too?
And if he wanted me to be safe… What did he think I was up to?
Something told me not Zumba.
Nine
Boaz watched Adelaide scramble into the Ferrari he recognized from the last crime scene with a tight smile for the driver. The glimpse he caught of the blonde behind the wheel made him more curious about his bride-to-be than ever.
Addie knew the vampire, the bounty hunter, and was comfortable riding with her.
And she knew enough about him to keep them apart.
That was damn interesting.
Soft footsteps drew his attention from the window to the staircase before he could decide to follow her.
“Oh.” Mr. Whitaker tried focusing his bloodshot eyes on Boaz. “I didn’t realize you were still here.”
The red-rimmed eyes and loose gait at this hour worried Boaz enough he mashed pause on the concerns whirring in his head about Addie and awarded his future father-in-law his full attention. “Addie invited me to stay while I wrap up a local case.”
“Ah.” Mr. Whitaker ambled into the kitchen. “I see.”
“I hope that’s all right.” Boaz followed him, wary of how the older man swayed on his feet. “I can get a hotel if you like.”
“Addie knows what she’s doing.” He selected a mug out of a cabinet and set it on the counter. “If she invited you to stay, she has good reason.” He rubbed his forehead and searched the room with a sweeping frown. “Where is the coffeepot?”
“It’s right here.” Boaz kissed his chances of tailing Addie goodbye. “I was about to make myself a cup.” The lie came to him easily, and so he made it a truth. “Tell me how you like yours, and I’ll make it a double.”
“All right.” Mr. Whitaker shuffled to the pantry, opened it, and scanned the empty shelves. “There’s no bread for toast.”
The man’s honest confusion tugged Boaz in opposing directions and left him torn.
Mr. Whitaker ought to be aware that, with no savings remaining, if he didn’t work, the family couldn’t eat. That left Addie working sixty-hour weeks to pay their bills and stock their cupboards.
But he had lost so much, and he was always first to praise Addie for her contributions to the family. That was something. Not enough, but a start.
“I’ll pick some up on my way home.” Boaz checked the fridge, found eggs and cheese but not much else. “Would you like an omelet?”
“I suppose it will have to do.” Mr. Whitaker sat at the table and stared at the place mat before him. “Are there onions?”
A quick check of the pantry provided one that had seen better days but would do the job. “Here we go.”
Mr. Whitaker nodded, as if that made everything right with his world, and slipped into a quiet trance.
Over the years of living alone, Boaz had picked up few cooking skills, but he could manage eggs okay. He made one omelet to keep from using up the carton of eggs, and he leaned on his rusty seasoning skills to cover for the light sprinkling of cheese and small amount of edible onion.
“You must think poorly of me,” Mr. Whitaker said after a while. “I wasn’t always like this.”
“You raised a thoughtful and kind daughter. That speaks to your character enough for me.”
Another pause lingered between them. “Do you think you can love her?”
“I intend to try.” Boaz was grateful his back was to the man. “She’s a good woman. It’s what she deserves.”
“She deserves better than to sacrifice everything for the sake of the ghosts who haunt this house, me included.”
“She would disagree with you.” He glanced over his shoulder. “She loves you very much.”
“She’s all I have left.” He slumped forward. “It’s too much for her to
