sigh, Bruno gave it up and dropped the il usion.
“And just
“His name is Bruno DeLuca,” Rizzoli answered. When his partner turned to give him a look he
answered the unasked question with a curt, “We’ve met.” He turned to Bruno. “What are you doing
here?”
Bruno opened his mouth to speak, but it was Dee who answered. “He has been involved with Ms.
Graves for many years. They were once affianced. He is no doubt here to protect her from any …” He
seemed to search for the right phrase. “Funny business?”
Bruno’s eyes narrowed as he nodded.
Roberto shot a chil y glance at me. Okay, so I hadn’t told him
me the services of the firm.
“Fine,” Dum said coldly. “We have no problem with Mr. DeLuca being present. We simply need to
know exactly what has occurred. And time is fleeting. So, Ms. Graves, if you would be so kind?”
He phrased it as a request, but it wasn’t one. And while the Feds raised objections, it real y didn’t
matter to them, and we al knew it.
“What
as much of a tough guy, and magician, as anyone present.
Dee started to explain, but he only got a couple of sentences out before the arguments started.
Bruno was starting to get pretty heated about concepts I wasn’t close to understanding. Apparently, it
wasn’t the fact that there would be a bespel ing but what it would entail. Then Erikson coughed softly,
drawing everyone’s attention. “We al have enough information to start our various investigations. I
suggest we let Ms. Graves get some rest. You can always resort to more drastic measures if the
investigation dead-ends.”
“Assuming she lives that long.” Tweedledum’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. Then again, neither did
mine.
“I’l do my best.” I was tired of the posturing, tired of them. So I gestured to the open door. It was a
dismissal, and they didn’t like it one bit. Even so, everyone but Bruno took the hint. I waited by the door
for a moment, listening. I could hear their footfal s and muted conversation even when they reached the
ground floor.
Dawna’s voice came through the clearest. “Excuse me, Agent Erikson, don’t forget your pen. You left
it on my desk this morning.”
Someone mumbled something that was probably thanks. I heard the front door squeak open, then the
slam of the screen, and they were gone.
“Thank God that’s over.” I meant it as gratitude, not blasphemy. Although since my relationship with
the almighty is a little sketchy, I suppose it could be taken either way. I went into my office. Pul ing the
door closed behind me, I sank grateful y into my chair. I was exhausted, but wired and twitchy rather
than sleepy. The scent of the cinnamon rol s that had been so appetizing earlier now made me
nauseous. I thought about taking them downstairs to the kitchen, but it just seemed like too much
bother.
“I wouldn’t count on that.” Bruno’s voice came from the chair across from mine. “Those foreign guys
aren’t the type to give up. They had to behave because of everyone else who was here. But that
doesn’t mean they won’t try to catch you alone later.”
“I know that.” I didn’t hide my exasperation. “I’m not an idiot, you know.” I opened my eyes to glare at
him. I was tired and irritable. But more worrisome, my gaze kept straying to pulse points … the base of
his throat … his wrists. “What time is it?”
He told me and I flinched.
the intercom button. “Dawna, could you bring me up one of those shakes?”
“On my way.”
I closed my eyes. If I didn’t look and didn’t move it should be easier to ignore the fact that I’d been
wondering what Bruno would taste like.
“Are you okay?”
“Hel , no.” I admitted it freely. Fortunately, Dawna’s tap on the door saved me from having to
elaborate. She came in and handed me a pair of cans fil ed with the dark chocolate nutrition that should
get me through another four hours without incident. I hoped.
I flipped the tab and downed the first drink in one long chug. It hit my empty stomach hard, and I had to
fight to keep it down where it belonged. I decided to sip the second can while I ignored the cramping
that made me want to curl into a fetal position.
Dawna left, pul ing the door closed behind her. When she was out of earshot, Bruno said, “I’m sorry,
Celia. I know you can take care of yourself. I do. But this …” His voice trailed off. Apparently he was at
a loss for words.
I set the drink can on top of my desk, dragged myself out of the chair and over to open the weapons
safe. Staring at the contents of my safe, I debated what weaponry I wanted on hand. The chances
were good I wouldn’t make it back here or to the house before dark, so I wanted to be prepared.
Besides, I was feeling just a touch paranoid. Of course there was a growing list of people who were out
to get me, so maybe “paranoid” wasn’t the right word. Let’s cal it
“If I hadn’t stayed, would you have told me about the demon spawn? Or would you have just left me in
the dark?” Bruno’s tone was perfectly conversational, but I knew better than to believe his questions
were casual.
I didn’t look him in the eye as I spread the denim jacket out flat on the desktop and inspected it. It
wasn’t the same brand as the one I usual y wore, but the pockets were lined with cotton and tacked
down the same way, creating a pair of nice little slots that were just the right size to hold one of the little
One Shot squirt guns or a sharpened stake. I grabbed one of each from the safe. I considered a
couple of the little ceramic disks that held “boomers,” a spel similar to the flash-bangs used by the
military, or maybe one of the immobilization curses but decided against it. They are handy as hel in
certain circumstances, but I didn’t real y think I’d be needing them and there was only so much I could
carry in this jacket. “I absolutely would have told you.” I glanced over and gave him a wry grin. “
your nap.”
He gave a snort that might have passed for laughter.
