Finlay Donovan Jumps the Gun (Finlay Donovan, #3)(37)

Nick had never known Julian’s name, only that I’d been seeing an attorney and the attorney’s mysterious disappearance in my book held certain parallels to our real-life relationship. I smiled at my empty plate. “That story line’s over. My heroine has moved on. It’s just her and her trusty sidekick now.” Holding hands as they plummet off a cliff.

I reached across the table for his dishes. “You cooked. Let me clean up.”

He rose from his seat to help. “I had to do something to save face. Last time I asked you to have dinner with me, it wasn’t much of a date.” Our shoulders brushed as he nested our plates. There was a tentativeness to the word date, as if he was feeling out my reaction to it.

“Because it wasn’t one,” I reminded him.

“Date or not, it was a pretty fantastic night.”

“We got kicked out of Feliks’s restaurant and ended up in his dumpster. I think your memory of that night might be a little fuzzy.”

Nick caught my wrist as I reached for our forks. His hand was warm, his teasing smile close to mine. “My memories of that night are very clear, and Zhirov’s restaurant isn’t where I wanted to take you.”

I swallowed. This was the part of the story when the cop’s gaze was supposed to fall to the assassin’s lips. Her eyes would drift closed. The air would grow thin. Her heart would race as she imagined how it would feel to be with him …

She’d been on the run for so long, all the while he’d been close behind her, wanting her. Chasing her. But now, his hand cuffing her wrist in its gentle embrace, there was nowhere left to run.

She didn’t want to run. Not tonight.

She pressed a finger to his lips, silencing his sweet promises of a future she knew she could never have with him. He couldn’t swear she would never go to prison; she was far from innocent. And he couldn’t keep her safe. Not from his friends, and not from her enemies.

But maybe they could have this one night.

Here, far from home, where no one knew who she was.

She grabbed hold of his shirt and pulled his mouth to hers, their first kiss since their last fateful night together, desperate and—

“Finn? You okay?” Nick hovered over me, his brow creased with worry.

I blinked up at him. Then at my hands, which were clutching the front of his apron.

“I’m fine,” I said, clearing my throat. “Just a little light-headed. Probably all the carbs.”

Do not think about dessert. You’re not thinking about dessert. You do not need or want any dessert.

He pressed a hand to my forehead. “Maybe you should sit down. You’re flushed, and your pulse is a little quick.”

“No kidding.”

A door smacked open somewhere in the cafeteria. “Nick!” Joey’s voice echoed through the cafeteria. I let go of Nick’s apron, leaving sudsy, wrinkled handprints on the fabric, still a little weak in the knees as the kitchen door flew open. Joey didn’t even notice me as he made a beeline for the stove. “Smells good. What’s cookin’, partner?”

Nick’s cane clacked hard against the floor as he limped after Joey. “What the hell’s so important?”

Joey shoved a file against Nick’s apron. “Tox reports are in.”

“We can go over them tomorrow,” Nick said, trying to hand them back.

Joey lifted the lid on the saucepan and tested the sauce with a finger, searching the counter for a plate. “Get this … four of the victims had traces of weed, opioids, coke … the usual suspects. But vic number five—”

Nick snatched the lid and dropped it back on the pot. “I said, it can wait until tomorrow.” He tipped his head toward me.

Joey’s swung around, stopping short when he saw me. His eyes raked over the kitchen, taking in the dim spotlights, the tablecloth, and the juice glasses we hadn’t gotten around to cleaning up yet. He turned slowly to Nick. Nick stared back, daring him to say something.

I hitched my thumb toward the exit. “I should probably go.”

“Stay,” Nick said. He shoved the file at Joey. “Detective Balafonte has somewhere he needs to be.”

“Sam can handle it,” Joey argued.

“It’s not Samara’s name on the schedule.”

A muscle worked in Joey’s jaw. He glared at the wet handprints on Nick’s apron. “See you in the morning, partner. The report will be on my desk if you manage to get your head out of your ass before then.” He took the file from Nick, slamming the door into the wall on his way out.





CHAPTER 14


Nick was quiet as we washed our plates and put away the leftovers. Whatever spark had kindled between us during dinner had extinguished the moment Joey had burst in. I could sense Nick’s frustration still simmering under the surface as he gave the kitchen a quick once-over before locking it for the night. I should have been relieved for Joey’s interruption, which had probably saved me from ripping off Nick’s apron and doing unspeakable things in a public place, but I couldn’t deny feeling a little frustrated, too.

My eyes climbed the brick wall of the dormitory as Nick escorted me back to my room. The light was on in our window. I sent Vero a quick text, warning her that I was on my way with Nick, then slipped my phone back in my pocket, hoping Javi was already gone.