Lock, Stock and Secret Baby. Cassie Miles
before turning back toward the road.
While she continued to stare at his perfect profile, the questions inside her head turned to gibberish. She wanted him to hold her and comfort her and tell her that everything was going to be all right. Their brief physical contact had erased her intelligence like a bucket of white paint thrown against a blackboard filled with equations. With one pat on her shoulder, he’d turned her into a dumb blonde.
“When we get back to your house,” he said, “I want you to pack a suitcase. You’ll be staying with me.”
She couldn’t put her life on hold. There were important projects at work—schedules to be met and responsibilities to be handled. Though she should have been telling him all those things, all she could manage to say was, “Okay.”
Staying with Blake seemed like the most rational plan she’d heard all day.
BACK AT HER HOUSE, Blake stood in the center of her kitchen, which was incredibly clean. Either she was a neat freak or she didn’t actually cook. He suspected the latter. He faced her. “I want to reenact what happened while your memory is fresh. They were standing here, right?”
“The shorter one was there. The tall guy was closer.” She motioned him toward her. “Move eighteen inches forward.”
He did so. “Here?”
“Close enough.”
As she explained what had happened, using geometry analogies, he cursed himself for missing his chance to nab these two guys. He should have been faster, should have driven her home and entered her house first.
She pulled the chair down onto the floor and concluded, “Then I ran. And screamed.”
“And they didn’t come after you?”
Her chin lifted. “Apparently, I outsmarted them by creating an effective obstacle.”
Though he had no doubt that her IQ was double that of these two characters, an overturned chair wasn’t all that impressive. He motioned for her to start running. “Go ahead and show me what you did next.”
When she darted toward the front door, he hurdled the chair. Before her hand was on the doorknob, he caught her arm and spun her around to face him.
Her blue eyes widened as she leaned her back against the closed door and gazed up at him. “You got me.”
“And I wasn’t even running hard.”
“I can explain,” she said. “You were ready to chase me, and they weren’t. Plus you’re taller than them. Longer legs mean you’re faster. Or maybe I wasn’t moving as fast.”
“Or maybe those two guys were incompetent.”
They’d taken off like a couple of scared jackrabbits as soon as they’d realized she wasn’t alone. He would have thought Prentice could afford a better grade of thug.
“I still think we should talk to the police,” Eve said. “I can identify both of those men. I’m very observant.”
“Prove it.”
“The taller man was five feet eleven inches tall. He had a gold pinkie ring with an amber stone and his watch had a gold and silver band. Cleft chin. Small ears. High forehead. The other one probably put on some weight recently because the waistband on his trousers was tight.”
He watched her lips as she rattled off more details about their shoes and shirts and the cut of their hair. He could have stepped back and given her more space, but he liked being close. “You have a photographic memory.”
“It’s called eidetic memory or recall, and I’m not one hundred percent. But I’m good with visuals and numbers.” She reached toward him and rested the flat of her palm against his chest. “It’s a useful skill, especially for investigating. I’m sure we’ll find the man who killed your father.”
“We?”
“You and me,” she said. “With your Special Forces training and my logic, we’ll make a really good team.”
This plan had to be nipped in the bud. He caught hold of her hand and gently lowered it to her side. No way did he intend to get tied down with a partnership. This was his fight. “I appreciate the offer, but no.”
“Why not?”
“The situation is dangerous.” He moved away from her. “While I’m investigating, I can’t be worried about what’s happening to you.”
“But you want me to come home with you,” she said. “To stay at your house. What am I supposed to be doing while you’re investigating?”
His father’s last wish was for him to protect Eve. He couldn’t put her in jeopardy. “Maybe you could take up knitting.”
“And maybe you could go to hell.”
“Too late, babe. I’m already there.”
“Don’t call me babe.”
Her eyes flared with righteous anger. He didn’t blame her for being ticked off. He hadn’t been gentle in rejecting her, but he didn’t have time to waste. Clues were fading like footprints on a beach being washed away by the tide. He needed to focus on finding his father’s killer. “Pack your things.”
“Tell you what, Blake. I’m going to let your condescending, sexist attitude slide for now because I know you’re under duress. But make no mistake. My abilities are a valuable resource. You need me.”
He watched as she moved past him and turned into the hallway. She was smart, all right. But, in this case, she was wrong. He had never in his life needed anyone.
Chapter Five
No matter how irritated she got, Eve had to accept the fact that Blake was well-trained for situations involving physical violence, and she’d be wise to follow his directions. Still, she didn’t want to be totally dependent on him and definitely wanted to have access to her own car while she was staying at his father’s house.
When he loaded her suitcase into the back of his station wagon, she said, “I’ll drive myself and meet you there.”
He slammed the car door closed. “Ever been in a highspeed pursuit?”
“No.”
“Do you have training in evasive driving tactics?”
She could see where he was heading. Her shoulders slumped, and she exhaled a sigh. “I’m pretty good at dodging squirrels.”
“If those guys see you driving alone, they might try to apprehend you again.” He gave her a wink. “You ride with me.”
She groaned. Her life had become too dangerous for her to drive her own car. Too dangerous to sleep in her own bed. This was so unfair. When she glanced over her shoulder at her cozy little bungalow with the warm brown bricks and the clean white trim at the windows, an unwanted memory of fear tightened her gut. Those intruders had invaded her privacy, violated her home. Never before had she felt so vulnerable. She wanted bars on the windows and triple locks on the doors. Even then, she didn’t know if she’d feel secure. “There’s something I need to do before we leave.”
She marched up the sidewalk to the front door and went through the living room and dining room to the kitchen where she took a bag of dried cat food from the cupboard. The stray cats in the alley depended on her for food. She couldn’t abandon them. Nor could she leave the whole bag by the trash cans in the alley where the raccoons would carry it off.
Later she’d call her neighbor and ask him to take over for her while she was away. And how long would that be? A day? A week? Two weeks? So unfair!
As she went out the back door and down the narrow sidewalk to the gate in the white picket fence, Blake followed. “What are you doing?”