Close To Danger (Westen #4)(69)
“Ah, nature calls, huh big boy?” Wes said.
W?den gave a little yip.
“Okay, I’m coming.” Wes climbed out of the bed, pulled on the jeans and thermal shirt he’d discarded last night.
As he strode through the cabin to the back door, she realized she really like the way he moved. Graceful, in a masculine hunter kind of way. Arms and legs in a rhythm that shouted, I’m relaxed at the moment, but any kind of threat and I’m all business.
He turned around and headed for the bathroom, stopping in the doorway to look at her. “Why don’t you get dressed, we’ll have some coffee and then you can use my phone to call Bobby.”
As she climbed out of the bed and hustled into a clean set of clothes while shivering enough to be a human blender, Chloe couldn’t help grinning. If any other man had given her instructions on what to do she would’ve told him where to shove it and done exactly what she wanted. But Wes wasn’t issuing orders to the little woman. She understood that. He was merely suggesting how she could relax before calling Bobby. They’d been together only a couple of days, known each other a few weeks and he already understood her obsession with coffee and its effects on her better than any man she’d ever dated.
By the time he’d vacated the bathroom to her and she’d gotten all her morning stuff out of the way, she entered the kitchen to the aroma of coffee and cinnamon.
“Keep me posted, Brad,” Wes said, then laid his phone on the counter.
“Brad?” she asked as he handed her a mug.
“Bryerson, the detective I know in Cincinnati. He said normally it would be weeks before they had the forensic results from your place, but he’s putting a rush on it. While he’s waiting, he’s going to get access to street cameras in the area. Maybe that will give us a lead on your stalker.”
“Good idea.” She took a long drink of the coffee. “Cinnamon?”
“Yep. Full of antioxidants and it smells good,” he said before drinking some of his.
Suddenly, a loud banging sounded outside.
Before she knew it, Wes had both mugs of coffee on the counter and her on the floor, his body on top of hers.
“What was that?” she asked once she caught her breath.
“Rifle fire,” he said, his breathing a little faster.
“Someone’s hunting in this weather?”
“You could say that. That was a sniper rifle. Can you stay down here for a moment?” he asked, staring down at her with those intensely, now very serious eyes.
“Yes. What are you going to do?”
“Just gonna check it out.” Slowly, he lifted off her body and looked down at her bare feet. “It’s probably nothing, but why don’t you put your boots on. The ones I picked out. You know, just in case.”
Just in case the crazy stalker is outside and aiming a sniper rifle at them and they needed to book like rabbits at a greyhound race.
Yeah, nothing to worry about.
She started to rise and his hand grabbed her arm from where he crouched next to the cabinets. “I’d feel a lot better if you’d crawl, counselor.”
“Well, since you put it that way.”
Getting on her hands and knees, she crawled to the door and grabbed her boots, then hurried around to the far side of the counter away from the windows and door. As she wiggled her feet into the new leather hiking boots she watched Wes crawl around the cabin to retrieve his gun and holster. A man who took his own advice.
He crab-walked over to the backdoor, pulled on his winter coat, then paused with one hand on the door the other gripping his gun. “Don’t let anyone in but me.”
Yeah, like I was planning to invite whoever has that gun in for tea.
She nodded, refraining the sarcasm on the tip of her tongue. He nodded, then turned the handle, inching the door open.
Nothing happened.
He cast her another look, one that said stay here.
She nodded.
With one smooth motion and keeping low, he opened the door and slid out onto the porch.
Gunfire sounded again. This time with the loud wail from an animal.
W?den.
*
As she cleaned out the department’s coffee pot, Bobby fought down the urge to run to the office’s bathroom and hurl up the toast she’d managed to eat at home. Before, when she wasn’t pregnant the smell of old burnt coffee left in the pot nauseated her. Now it was worse. Giving in to the urge to empty her stomach would only serve one purpose, though—convince Gage she should’ve stayed home this morning like he suggested.
Seriously, only half-way into the first trimester of this pregnancy and already he was flexing his big alpha dog muscles in over-protectionism. He loved her and was worried. She got that. But come on. If they were going to get through this without him locking her in a sterile room and her bashing him over the head, she was going to have to show him there was nothing to worry about. To do that, she needed to function normally. That meant not missing work and not giving into morning sickness, no matter how rank the coffee pot smelled.
First chance she got though, she was having serious words with Jason, the department’s youngest deputy and regular night shift worker. The guy needed to empty this pot during the night and turn off the burner. At least for a few weeks. If not, she’d promise to reserve all her morning sickness for his shoes.