Читать книгу More Than A Lawman - Anna J. Stewart - Страница 14

Chapter 5

“I don’t suppose you’re going to listen to what the doctor said and take it easy.” Later that afternoon, Cole shut the door to Eden’s town house off La Riviera Drive, but not before casting an accusatory glare at the silent gargoyle. The ugly thing was partially hidden by overflowing camellias and should have been protecting Eden’s home.

“I don’t take it easy, Cole, remember?” She pulled off the sling her doctor had given her and tossed it onto one of the chairs.

“Some things I don’t need reminding of.” He’d taken her at her word and had her locks replaced. A security system would take longer, but motion sensor lights would do in the meantime, which Jack had installed this afternoon. None of that meant Cole would be leaving her alone, but, for now, he knew how to pick—and plan—his battles. She wanted to stay in her house and play more games with this maniac? She’d be staying on Cole’s terms. And under his watch.

Eden paused long enough to settle the sad stuffed panda from Allie behind the framed photos and keepsakes she had lined up on the narrow china cabinet. It was one of few pieces of furniture he recognized as having belonged to Eden’s parents. She brushed a reverent finger over the edge of the simple black frame depicting her mom and dad, another over the butterfly trinket box Simone had given to her on her sixteenth birthday. College graduation day for her, Simone and Allie. She hesitated a second longer over the photo of her brother.

Cole looked away. That familiar moment of grief struck whenever he saw Logan St. Claire grinning at him. Even with the filthy face and too-long hair, surrounded by his comrades, eyes slightly tarnished by the reality of their time in Afghanistan, Cole could almost hear Logan’s laughter. Except Logan’s laughter—along with his friends’—had been silenced forever by a mortar attack.

Cole missed his best friend; the boy he’d learned to ride a bike with, the teen he’d competed with for dates. The young man who had devoted his life to Eden after their parents’ deaths in the car crash that had nearly killed Eden, as well. Cole had found his own way to grieve, to get through, to move on. But Eden?

Cole’s fists clenched as if he could fight her ghosts and his own. He knew Eden considered death her personal nemesis.

The sound of a drawer being yanked open in the kitchen drew him through the living room that housed a meager DIY couch, a small flat-screen TV and an antique Tiffany-style lamp that looked oddly out of place. Half a dozen cardboard boxes sat wedged against walls, some opened, most with a thin layer of dust on top. Boxes that he knew for a fact hadn’t shifted an inch since she’d moved in.

When he rounded the corner into the kitchen, he found Eden with her head in the freezer. “What are you doing?” He stepped forward and grabbed her arm to yank her back. “If this is some half-baked plan to try to remember what happened to you...” He trailed off, suitably silenced by the sight of the spoon in her mouth and the pint of ice cream in her hand. “Really?”

She popped the spoon free, the irritation and defiance in her eyes an oddly attractive combination. “He almost made me hate ice cream.” Eden took another huge bite before she sucked in a breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Nobody makes me hate ice cream. Ah! Ice-cream headache!” She bounced on her toes and replaced the lid. Aiming her spoon at him like a gun, she then quickly dropped it into the dishwasher.

Cole tossed his keys onto the counter and pushed her aside to open the fridge. “You need to eat.”

“What I need is to get back to work.” Her gaze skittered toward the padlocked door in the small alcove. “Besides, you brought me a bagel at the hospital, remember?”

“You ate half a bagel, and you need protein, preferably with some iron for all that blood you lost.” He bit his tongue and put his frustration into something productive. He dug around until he found eggs, spinach and a good-sized chunk of cheese. At least she hadn’t forgotten to shop for groceries. “You’re not working until tomorrow. Now sit.”

“I’m not entirely sure I like you right now, Cole.” She surprised him by doing as he ordered and hopped onto one of the two stools on the other side of the breakfast bar. “I’m supposed to be the bossy one, remember?”

The fact she was still as pale as a hundred-year-old ghost no doubt meant she had the energy of a flea, but Cole wasn’t about to challenge her on that. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed her fighting spirit back, if for no other reason than to convince him she’d be ready for anything.

Having a serial killer on her trail would be enough to keep him awake for the near future. He’d already spent most of the morning distracted by worrying about her. The fact that Simone had texted him almost as soon as he’d left the hospital to let him know she’d stay until he returned had eased his mind temporarily. Hip-hip hooray.

“You’d best get used to it.” Cole shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over one of the kitchen chairs piled high with files and photos. “You’re stuck with me for the foreseeable future.”

“Won’t that cut into your personal time?” Eden surprised him yet again by reaching for one of the bananas in the bowl, then snapped it open. “What’s the latest one’s name again? Tiffany? No, Tawny. Thelma?”

“Thandie.” Cole cringed as he rolled up his sleeves. “And there hasn’t been any personal time for a few months.”

“Huh.” Eden broke off a chunk of banana and swallowed it. “Maybe it would help if you didn’t live somewhere that required a life vest.”

Cole cracked eggs into a bowl and heated up the only pan she owned. “Don’t go dissing my boat.” Refurbishing the 1960s gentleman’s river cruiser had kept him sane the last few years. “And that’s big talk from a woman who hasn’t unpacked in, what?” He stepped back from the counter and gestured at the boxes in the living room. “Just how long has it been since you moved in?”

“Three years.” Eden shrugged. “I’ve had other things on my mind. Besides, I unpacked the essentials.”

“So if I were to head upstairs to your bedroom, I wouldn’t find your clothes tossed over unopened boxes or piled up in the corner?”

Another shrug, but this time her gaze skittered from his. “Don’t criticize my organizational style, Cole. It works for me.”

He dumped the eggs and spinach in the pan and went to work on the cheese. “Home should be a respite, Eden. A place to escape.”

“Given my front door may as well have a giant bull’s-eye painted on it, I think we can agree that’s no longer an option.” She got up and opened the hand-carved bread box on the counter—a Christmas gift from him years before—and pulled out a loaf of sliced sourdough. She dropped a couple of pieces into the toaster. “So what’s the plan? You moving in?” She leaned her arms on the counter and watched him stir the eggs. “If so, my guest room will need some, um, fixing up.”

When he glanced at her she grinned and batted her lashes at him.

“Don’t do that, Eden.” Cole shook his head and switched off the stove to let the residual heat finish the eggs.

“Don’t do what?”

“Pretend as if what happened last night didn’t scare you.” It sure had scared him, and Cole didn’t scare easily. “It’s me, remember? I can read you like a book. You’re spooked, which means you’re doing what you always do when you get scared. You deflect with humor and sarcasm, and when that doesn’t work, you’ll start insulting me and anyone else who tries to help you just to drive us away.”

She inclined her head, her thick sandy-blond hair falling around her shoulders in a way that shouldn’t tempt him as much as it did. Intense blue eyes sparked like the center of pure fire, where the oxygen barely kissed the air. “What kind of book am I?”

The kind he couldn’t put down. The kind that kept him up nights. The kind he shouldn’t be reading. He pulled the pan off the heat and faced her, moving in so she was forced to straighten and step back. For an instant, he found himself at the warehouse again, looking down at her on that frozen floor. It had been the longest moment of his life, waiting for her chest to rise, and when it did, he’d almost wept.

Now here she was, standing in front of him, defiance personified, licking her full lips and forcing herself to meet his gaze as he took one more step closer.

“Cole.” She pressed a hand against his chest, the warmth of her touch seeping through his shirt and reminding him that she, that he, was still very much alive. “What’re you doing?”

“Not sure I know.” But he wanted to find out. He’d almost lost her, almost lost this chance with her he’d been thinking about for so long... He skimmed his fingers over the bandage on her wrists, unable to erase the image of the chains that had been there.

Cole lifted his hand, cupped her chin in his palm and leaned down, his eyes scanning her face as she searched his, confusion marring her brow as he dipped his head, and after he heard a soft sigh escape her mouth, he kissed her.

Fire and spice. The heat of her, the feel of her mouth touching his was everything he’d have thought it would be, if he’d let himself dwell on it long enough. She didn’t shrink from him, didn’t withdraw. Instead she ran her hand up his arm until her fingers gripped his shoulder, kneading as he deepened the kiss and tasted her.

The sound that erupted from her throat reminded him of a cat on the prowl, hunting, claiming, and as his lips teased hers, for that moment, everything he had to worry about faded.

“Cole,” she murmured against his mouth when he raised his head.

“Hmm?” He pressed his forehead against hers, closed his eyes and held on to the feeling for as long as he could.

“Thank you for saving my life.”

“Yeah.” And there it was. Gratitude. The conciliatory acceptance and silent confirmation that their kiss had been nothing more than the aftereffect of a potentially life-changing event. “Well...” He cleared his throat and stepped away. Well, hadn’t that just been a mistake of epic proportions. “You did your part. You stayed alive.”

“It’s what I do.” The smile she gave him seemed strained. “Which is why you don’t have to worry about me.”

“I will always worry about you,” Cole said as he pulled two plates out of the cabinet and dished out the eggs. “I made a—”

“I know. You made a promise to Logan to always look after me.” Was it his imagination or was there a trace of bitterness in her voice? Hard to tell since she’d turned to retrieve the butter from the fridge. “After last night I’d say you’ve more than lived up to your end of the bargain. Whatever your plan is for protecting me, if it includes moving in here—”

“I didn’t say I’m moving in.” The idea of sleeping on that backbreaker of a couch of hers was enough to have him reevaluating his career choice.

“Oh.” Her shoulders straightened and her grin returned as if they’d done nothing more than talk these last few minutes. “That’s a relief. You and I both know I can take care of myself.”

“Open your freezer and say that again,” Cole snapped. “I meant what I said. After you finish eating, you’re going to go upstairs to pack and then you’re coming home with me.”

“To the boat?” Eden squeaked. “I hate the water. You know that. And that...boat of yours is a death trap. Besides, I bet you don’t even have internet access out there.”

“As if that’s what you should be worried about right now.” If it wasn’t for that stupid blog of hers she wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place. All the more reason to lock her away...

“Oh!” She snapped her fingers. “That reminds me. I totally need to post an update to let everyone know I’m okay.”

“Eden—”

“He’s not driving me out of my home.” She actually sounded...hurt. “I realize it’s not much to look at,” she continued. “That to you it’s a jumble of boxes and junk, but this is my space. Mine. Leaving would be admitting he’s won, and neither you nor I would ever do that.”

“This isn’t about winning or losing, Eden. And it’s not about forcing you out of your home. This is about your life.” His phone rang and it instantly drove the rest of his lecture from his mind. She smirked as if she’d been saved by the bell. “We’re not done, Eden. Hey, Jack. What’s up?”

“Agent Simmons is here.” Jack’s voice had lowered to the point that Cole had to strain to hear. “Something about you absconding from the hospital with the witness in an ongoing investigation.”

“My investigation,” Cole muttered. Unless something had changed. “My witness.” He glanced at Eden, who made no pretense about eavesdropping as she sat at the counter and propped her chin in her hand. “She needs food and a good night’s sleep.”

“Says you,” she grumbled and returned to the toaster.

“Yeah, well,” Jack said. “That sounds fine, except our friendly FBI interloper is about ten seconds from demanding Eden’s address. So if perchance you’re inclined to bring her in, and she can give her official statement—”

“Tell him we’ll be there first thing in the morning.”

Eden glanced over her shoulder, her grin fading as her eyes narrowed. “Bring me where first thing in the morning?” she asked after he had hung up.

“The station. To make an official statement. Don’t let me forget to stop for doughnuts on the way. Half the department is covering for us right now by playing up the damsel-in-distress story. Not so much butter, please.” He plucked the knife out of her hand and snagged his toast.

“What damsel-in-distress story?” She shot to her full height and pinned him with that testosterone-draining stare he’d become immune to years ago.

“The one that kept the FBI from questioning you in the hospital.”

“You mean the FBI really is involved?” She blinked. “That wasn’t a bluff?”

“Some things I don’t bluff about.” Suddenly, putting her in a room with Simmons didn’t seem like such a bad idea to Cole. If he couldn’t get through to her about the danger she was in, maybe the FBI agent could. “I don’t get it, Eden. It’s like you want this maniac to come after you.”

“Maybe I do.” She stuck a butter-covered thumb in her mouth. “Maybe that’s the method to catch him. I hit a nerve, Cole. Pushing him like I did got a reaction and now we have new evidence to work with.”

“Is that your way of saying last night was worth it? Or is it a warning you’re about to let him know what your next step is? Allie’s right. You do have an annihilation fantasy.”

“Allie’s biased.”

“Allie’s a smart woman,” Cole countered. “And she’s not wrong. But I was.”

“About what?” Was that excitement in her eyes?

“It’s not the Iceman I have to worry about.” He dumped the dirty pan in the sink, his resignation matching decades of pent-up frustration and concern. “The only person I have to protect you from is yourself.”

And that would be the far more difficult task.