In For the Kill (McClouds & Friends #11)(31)

Sam stared fixedly at a point on the wall. “I’ll wait downstairs, if you need more time.”

“No, I’m ready now,” she said, stumbling toward the door.

She followed him down the stairs, clutching the banister with a death grip. He shrugged on a leather jacket, scooped up his phone, and stuck it in his pocket. Handed her the little red evening bag, all without looking at her. Swift, economical gestures. She followed him out into the damp dawn chill, wishing she’d made more of an effort to find her stockings. She hated the thought of him finding them. Throwing them away.

“Watch the sidewalk,” he said brusquely without looking back. “Tree roots have buckled it. It’ll trip you.”

“I see them.” She picked her way over the jagged planes of broken concrete and hesitated at the car. “I can call a car, you know.”

“No, you can’t. Get in.” He looked at her, and his eyes widened as he took in her bare shoulders. “Jesus! Where the hell’s your jacket?”

“I think I left it at the reception,” she said, shivering. “I’m okay.”

He slipped his jacket off and held it out. “Put this on.”

She shrank away. “Oh, no. I don’t need—”

“Put. It. On.” His voice slashed, making her jump. She shrank back from the flash of furious emotion in his face. It was not worth crossing him, not in his current mood. She took the jacket.

It was huge. The cuffs dangled inches below the ends of her fingers. It draped on her like a heavy cape. Warm, from his body. She huddled in it when she got into the car, so distracted that she was halfway home before she noticed that he hadn’t asked for directions.

“How do you know where I live?” she asked.

He didn’t answer for a moment. “It’s not hard to find an address.”

“So you’ve been stalking me?”

“Yeah.” The admission was utterly unapologetic.

They sat on that for a few minutes as the dark night swept by.

Sveti took a deep breath. “I stalked you, too,” she told him.

His mouth twitched briefly. “I stalked you better.”

“I don’t doubt that, being a cop and all. What did you find out?”

He glanced at her. “Everything.”

“Wow, that’s impressive,” she commented. “But be more specific.”

He pondered that. “Well, your landlord bugs the shit out of me.”

“Walter?” she said, taken aback. “Why? He’s a perfectly nice guy.”

Sam grunted. “Don’t like the tattoos. What’s up with that hair?”

“They’re dreads, Sam. You’re judging him for his fashion choices?”

“Blond dreadlocks bite my ass,” he grumbled. “Fucking affected.”

“It’s an image thing,” she explained. “He leads extreme sports expeditions. He has to look hip. You won’t see him today, though.”

“I should hope not, at six in the morning.”

“No, I mean, he’s gone. He and his girlfriend, Pam, just got married. They had a big barbecue for the neighbors and took off for Queensland yesterday to surf the Great Barrier Reef for their honeymoon. They got special, patterned shark-proof wetsuits for it.”

Sam grunted. “So tell me about the six three, two-hundred-and-fifty-pound goateed black guy in the upstairs apartment.”

“Oh, that’s Paul. Wonderful guy. Off to Chicago for the week to visit his boyfriend, William. They’re struggling with the distance thing, because they both like their jobs. William’s okay, but I have my doubts. He’s a lightweight, and he drinks too much. Paul deserves better.”

“I see,” Sam said slowly.

“They’re all great neighbors,” she babbled on. “I’m going to miss them. Paul’s all set to move down to my apartment next week. He’s in love with my bay window and my clawfoot tub.”

She immediately regretted mentioning her impending departure.

“So, you’re all alone in that big house right now? Not a soul?”

She snorted at his sour tone. “You don’t like them when they’re at home. You don’t like them when they’re gone. There’s no pleasing you.”

He shook his head. “You know exactly what pleases me.”

That shut her right up. She stared out the window, face smarting.

She’d been so stupid. So superficial, to act as if sex with Sam was some country she could visit like a tourist and come back unchanged. She was inside out, exploding with feelings she didn’t know how to manage, and his seething anger buzzed against her every naked nerve.

Grim silence reigned for the rest of the drive.

There was no parking in front of her apartment. “You can just let me off,” Sveti told him as he circled the block.

“Not a f*cking chance,” he growled. “I’ll park.”

He found a place near the end of the block, maneuvered his car into it, and killed the engine. They sat in the chill dimness, both mute.

She ached to say something that would be meaningful, something that would make sense of the flat finality of it. But no such thing existed. Thanking him was wrong. She was sure he would reject that violently. She wanted to give him some indication of how important this night had been to her, but that would only make things worse.