Son of a… I shoved them back in my pocket, deeper this time. “Sure,” I said in a voice that was far too bright. “I’ll walk you out.”
Again, with the awkward silence. I followed him to the front door. His butt looked great in those jeans, just the thought had me yanking my gaze upward and fixing it on the point between his shoulder blades. “Thanks for stopping by to tell me about the lack of murder charges,” I said in a quiet voice as he reached for the handle on the front door.
Daniel nodded. “Sure, sure.”
He stepped outside, and when I shut the door, I ran to the living room to look out of the window and got there just in time to see him slap himself in the forehead. His mouth moved and I had to assume he was berating himself, just like I had been doing to myself mentally. Part of me wished I could hear what he was saying, but mainly I was just glad that at least he was as embarrassed as I was.
9
Emma
I waited at the little table in the corner of the kitchen again while Deva gave her kitchen crew last-minute instructions. She was too much of a micromanager, but it meant I got to eat those amazing truffle oil fries she’d served with dinner along with the leftover très leches shortcake pieces they had offered as dessert while I waited, so whatever. I wasn’t about to turn down food like that.
“Did you put confidence in this?” I whispered as she hurried by, the air gusting behind her and swirling all the delicious scents from the kitchen at me once again. My stomach practically growled as it reignited my hunger. I swear I could eat my talented friend’s food every day for the rest of my life and not object. She really was one of the most amazing chefs I’d ever had the privilege of experiencing.
Deva just winked and tapped the side of her nose. A grin tugged at the corners of her mouth, though she didn’t bust out a full smile, since she was usually more serious in the kitchen.
Whatever. At least I wasn’t scared about doing this investigating thing anymore. We could do this; we were capable women. We were mothers for crying out loud. If we could figure out how to raise crotch goblins into human beings, then we could do anything.
A few minutes later, Deva stopped beside the table, finally standing still for more than thirty seconds. She was wearing real clothes instead of her white—and food-stained—chef’s jacket and those strange black and white striped pants that chefs were always wearing. None of it looked very comfortable to me. Okay, the pants weren’t so bad since they looked kind of like sweatpants, but the jacket and the way it buttoned around the throat? No thank you. “Let’s go.”
I pushed to my feet snagging a few last fries and stuffing them into my mouth as I followed her to her car. There wasn’t a single nervous butterfly in sight, and my heartbeat was as steady and strong as a drum. “Where are we going?” I asked, figuring I should at least be somewhat mentally prepared for whatever was about to go down.
“The last place Cliff was seen. Roger’s law office.” Her voice was grim, determined. It made me a little nervous again, so I pulled out the piece of shortbread I’d taken as well and popped it in my mouth, which made Deva smile. She waited patiently for me to finish, laughing softly to herself at my antics with her food.
Once I was done chewing, I took a deep breath and said, “Okay.” I hopped in the passenger seat.
Deva yanked a black duffle bag out of the backseat and put it in my lap. The canvas material was rough against my fingertips as I searched for the zipper in the low light. A black zipper on a black bag in a dark car wasn’t exactly easy to find. She rattled off the contents as she pulled out of the parking lot of her restaurant. “Flashlights, pepper spray, a letter opener, gloves both nitrile and leather…”
I buckled up and peeked into the bag after finally finding the zipper. “A lockpick?”
She grinned and her eyes flashed with what I swear was excitement. “We gotta get in somehow.”
We chatted lightly on the way, mainly trying to keep my mind off the coming danger. It wasn’t that I expected something to go wrong, but it just always seemed like it did, so I figured it was better to expect it than to not. I wasn’t sure if I was overreacting. For all we knew a guy had just had a heart attack while out for a walk. But when it came to my friends, it was better to be safe than sorry.
Deva’s mouth curled into a frown as she glanced in her rearview mirror.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, wondering if danger had already found us.
“Just some jerk tailgating us.”
“Ugh!” I turned around and saw some giant truck, that was so shiny it’d clearly never hauled a darn thing, so close to the back of Deva’s car that I couldn’t see his front lights, but his high beams seemed to be turned on. “I hate when people do that. It’s not even like we’re driving too slow.”
Suddenly, the car honked, five quick honks, then he sped into the lane next to us. The lane facing oncoming traffic. Deva gasped, and her hands white-knuckled the steering wheel. Then, he swerved in front of us and stepped on his brakes. Deva squeaked and slammed on her brakes too, which was the only reason we didn’t hit the back of his truck.
When he sped back up, Deva and I were both breathing hard. “Sorry,” I said, “Car stuff is
