Night Watch (Kendra Michaels #4)(35)
She smiled. “Okay, you may be right about him.”
“Of course I’m right. The only question is, what are you going to do with that information?”
“Nothing. Metcalf is intelligent and handsome, and I’m sure he has his choice of women.”
“Not the one he wants.” Lynch leaned closer to her as they reached their cars. “So what are you waiting for? Who are you waiting for?”
The heat of his body was radiating, touching her own. She had to hold her ground against his sudden intrusion into her personal space. She wouldn’t let him know it disturbed her. “What business is it of yours?”
“Consider me a concerned bystander.”
“That doesn’t answer the question. It’s your business because—?”
“I care. Isn’t that enough?”
That could be a barbed or enigmatic question coming from Lynch. But she wasn’t going to be anything but honest. “Sure it’s a good reason. Fine. Those years after I got my sight, the wild days, I was with a lot of guys just because I cared enough about them to do it.”
“Even with our funny-looking noses?”
“Yes.”
“Just out of curiosity, what would constitute ‘a lot’?”
She gazed at him in disbelief. “If you really think I’m giving you numbers…”
“Sorry. Go on.”
“I was so determined to experience everything and everyone I could that I don’t think I ever stopped to truly appreciate any of it. Then, somewhere along the way, I realized it’s important to have a good reason to experience the things in my life. Not just because they’re there.”
“It was good enough for Sir Edmund Hillary.”
“It’s not good enough for me. Not anymore.”
“Makes sense. Come home with me.”
“What?”
He leaned even closer. “It’s the one place you can be safe. Somebody went to a lot of trouble to lure you out here and try to grab you. They’re not going to just give up. Especially when it’s painfully easy to find out where you live and work.”
“You’re inviting me to your house for my personal safety?”
“Yes.”
“Kind of an abrupt segue.”
“Was it?”
“By design, I suspect. In any case, I’m not going to your house.”
“It worked for you before.”
“I can’t run to your suburban fortress every time things get a little dicey.”
He chuckled. “You would classify attempted kidnapping as a little dicey?”
“No, it was flat-out terrifying. Which makes me even more determined not to run away.”
“Sometimes running is the smartest thing to do. Running, regrouping, plotting your next move…”
“I’m going home. My home.”
“Fine. Then I’m going with you.”
“Like hell.”
“I’m not joking. After what happened tonight, I’m sticking close. At least until we can figure out what the hell is going on. I think we’d be a lot more comfortable at my house, and you might even find it less intimate. Plus we both know it can withstand a military bombardment. But if you insist on going back to your condo, I’ll be there with you.”
“My spare room is filled with boxes and junk. There’s no place for you to sleep.”
He tilted his head. “Oh, we can work something out.”
“Really?” she said sarcastically.
“I was referring to your living-room sofa. It’s a stronger line of defense than anyplace else in your condo.”
“I really don’t think—”
“I’m an excellent house guest. Magnificent, I’ve been told.” He started back toward his car. “I’ll follow you.”
“We need to discuss this.”
“We already have. You’re just too tired and beat-up to realize it. I’ll order Chinese on the way.”
She was clearly going to lose this one. “Don’t you even want to pack a bag?”
He pointed at his car. “I keep a suitcase packed in the trunk. I can never tell when I’ll be called to Lisbon or Shanghai on a moment’s notice.”
“You think you’re impressing me again.”
“Not really. Traveling sounds glamorous, but it almost never is. I do have an unbelievable number of frequent flyer miles, though. Want to go to Dubai tonight?”
“No.”
“Chinese food it is. See you at your place.”
He climbed into his Ferrari and started the engine.
*
“YOU DIDN’T STOP FOR CHINESE,” Kendra said as she watched Lynch set his leather suitcase down in the corner of her living room.
“They’re going to deliver.” He checked his watch. “In about fifty minutes. Which should give us just enough time.”
“Enough time for what?” she asked warily.
“For me to get you taken care of.” He slipped off his jacket. “Take off your shirt.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me.” He was heading for the kitchen. “That son of a bitch hurt you. You jumped when I touched your back at the parking lot. Then, when you got in your car, you flinched again. I’m going to take a look at it and see what I can do.”