Finlay Donovan Is Killing It(Finlay Donovan #1)(70)

“Are you going to date him?”

I choked on my tongue. Nick suppressed a smile, daring a sideways glance at me.

“Delia Marie Donovan,” I sputtered, “what kind of question is that?”

“Come on.” Vero snickered as she took Delia’s hand. “Let’s let your mom and Detective Nick talk for a bit.” She turned over her shoulder as she led the kids up the stairs. “Why don’t you all take this conversation somewhere little ears won’t hear you?”

“I’m right here, you know,” Delia huffed. “And I’m not little. I know what a date is…” Her argument trailed into her bedroom as Vero closed the door.

“I’m sorry about that. She’s five,” I said, as if that was explanation enough. He scratched the back of his neck, loosening the reins on his smile.

“Kid doesn’t pull any punches. She’d make a heck of a detective.”

I reached to take his coat. “Don’t tell my sister that. We’ve got enough interrogators in the family.”

Nick slipped out of his jacket. The leather was supple, the liner warm from his body. The coatrack was behind him, and I maneuvered awkwardly around him, accidentally brushing his shoulder holster as I reached to hang it up. The hall suddenly felt too small. Too close. Nick’s face was freshly shaven, and he smelled like mouthwash and musk. Even in jeans and a tight, dark Henley, he looked sharp, his focus on me far from casual.

“I need to clean up a bit,” I said, gesturing loosely to the stairs behind me. “You want something to drink while you wait?” Heat flooded my cheeks as he followed me to the kitchen. I grabbed a glass from the drainboard and reached into the freezer for some ice. A ziplock bag full of money peeked out from under a bag of broccoli.

I slammed the freezer closed.

“How about we grab something on the way?” I said in a strained voice. I held up a finger and sidestepped away from the fridge. “I’ll be two seconds. Don’t … go anywhere.” I set the glass in the sink and raced to my room to change. After a quick scrub in the sink, I dragged a comb through my hair, threw on a pair of clean jeans, a T, and a fresh hoodie, and skidded back down the stairs.

“Come on,” I said, grabbing his coat and my purse from the rack. “Let’s get out of here.” I shouted a rushed good-bye to Vero and locked the door behind me, catching the quick flash of Mrs. Haggerty’s curtains as I slid into Nick’s passenger seat. “Jesus, does the woman have nothing better to do?”

Nick clicked his seat belt and started the car. The radio under the dash squawked to life. “Who? Your neighbor?” He adjusted his rearview mirror, his eyes crinkling at her reflection in her kitchen window.

“The woman’s a nuisance.” I resisted the urge to flip her off as we rolled out of my driveway.

“Are you kidding? Neighbors like that are a detective’s dream. I bet nothing happens on this street that old lady doesn’t see.” He moved his mirror back in place and rolled down the street.

“She sees plenty,” I said bitterly. I stiffened as he eased to a stop near Theresa’s house, directly behind Ramón’s loaner. “Where are we going?” I asked.

“We’re taking your car.”

“But that’s not my—” Nick was already out of the sedan, my car keys in his hand. He unlocked the driver’s-side door and let himself in. I followed, trailing a string of whispered expletives as I dropped into the passenger seat.

“How did you get my keys? And how did you know this was my car?”

“You left your keys on your kitchen counter when you went upstairs. And I was behind you this morning when you parked.” He pulled the loaner away from the curb. Theresa’s BMW wasn’t in the driveway. Still, I relaxed when her house disappeared in my side mirror. “That was a pretty sloppy B and E, by the way. You’re lucky you didn’t get caught.”

I gaped at him. “You knew I was stuck in that house with her, and you did nothing?”

“That would be aiding and abetting.”

“I wasn’t a criminal,” I said stubbornly. “I had a key.”

His lip curled with a self-satisfied grin. “I’ll admit your getaway was impressive.”

“That was Vero’s idea. And it was your fault I was in her house.”

“My fault?” He swung Ramón’s car into a fast-food drive-through.

“You told me to dig into her secrets. So I was digging.”

He chuckled darkly. “And what’d you find?”

“Nothing. She came home right after I got there.” It was unnerving how perceptive he was. How he always seemed to be one step in front of me.

Nick ordered two burgers for himself, then called my order into the intercom. He ate both of his as we drove, which made me feel better that Delia was wrong and at least this wasn’t a date. I scarfed down my burger and fries, watching the buildings roll by as Nick turned down a side street and slowed as we passed Theresa’s real estate office.

“Where are we going?” I asked, crumpling my wrappers and dumping them in the empty bag. The car braked and swung around, flinging me against the side panel as Nick made an illegal U-turn.

“You wanted to play detective, right? I’m taking you on a real stakeout.” He pulled the loaner car to the curb and cut off the engine. The burger turned to cement in my stomach.