The Frame-Up (The Golden Arrow #1)(63)
CHAPTER 19
The smell of acrid smoke stings my nose and eyes the moment I’m out of the car. “Oh my God, it’s a golden arrow.”
“No. Absolutely not. MG, you get back in that car right now, and that’s an order.” He returns to where I stand outside the car, reaches behind me, and reopens the door to the sedan.
I cross my arms. I want to see this building. I want to know what’s going on. This is my case too, dammit. And my friends are suspects, and Rideout thinks it’s me, and someone killed my boss’s father over it.
I swear a vein is about to explode in Matteo’s head. He grits his teeth, looks swiftly around, then reaches for me. He drags me forward two steps until we’re so close, I can smell his soap again, even over the scent of fireworks in the air. My heartbeat races wildly, thinking he’s going to kiss me, right here, in front of everyone. Instead, he leans his forehead against mine, takes a deep breath, and speaks very quietly. “Michael-Grace, for the love of all that is good, will you please get in the car? I need all of my attention focused on figuring out what’s going on, and I can’t do that if I’m worried about you.” He cuts off my argument before I can even make it. “I’m not saying you’re not capable. I’m saying this is my job. You are not trained for a crime scene, and there may be other explosions. This case is important to you. I get that. But right now I need to make sure you’re not complicating things further and that you’re safe, okay?”
I snap my mouth shut. His sweetness sops up my usual vinegar, and my hackles lower. Fire crews make their way across the parking lot and cautiously into the building. It wouldn’t be just my neck I’d be risking. If someone had to come looking for me, it’d be their neck too. It would be Matteo’s neck I’d be risking. Without another word, I slide into the car and let Matteo close the door behind me.
He jogs off into the smoke, and I feel a twinge deep down in my stomach. Guilt? Over kissing him? Anxiety for his safety? Worry that our feelings are a complication to this case? Fear that I won’t get a repeat of the singular most amazing kiss I’ve had in all my years on this planet?
I sit and listen to the radio, which chatters incessantly. There are so many buttons, I wouldn’t even know how to turn it down. A few minutes later, Agent Sosa and Detective Rideout arrive.
My phone buzzes, and I jump. I guess I’m a little on edge watching all these police milling around. It’s Lawrence. I look at the time and groan. It’s already well past midnight. And rather than sitting at IHOP with Ryan and Lawrence, I’m sitting in the passenger seat of an undercover cop car listening to static about 10-30s and Code 10s.
Just checking on you. I hope your hot date is going well! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Xoxo.
I chuckle. That wouldn’t leave much off the table. I bite my thumbnail, then reply, You have no idea. I’m safe and sound, call you tomorrow. We need to talk first thing. My anxiety reappears full force. I got lucky diverting Matteo tonight.
Almost immediately the dots appear that show me L is typing back. It can’t be going that well if you replied to my text. Get back to that hunk of man, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.
If only it were that easy. I tuck the phone away, lean my head back against the seat, and close my eyes. Guilt over sharing Lawrence’s journal with the police and Casey Junior has me sinking in my seat. I broke my promise; now L is a suspect. If there’s a dirty cop involved, Lawrence going in for questioning could be trouble. There’s a murderer on the loose who could kill him for his journals. Or for that matter, kill me for putting it all together. Solving this case could very well mean saving my friend’s life. Or my own.
An idea starts to form, a way to protect Lawrence. I sigh and stare at the ceiling of the car. If I execute the plan, it will mean lying yet again to Matteo and the police. I’m caught in the perfect storm of lies, truth, and thirty-year-old ghosts.
After what seems an eternity, Matteo climbs back into the car. I stifle a yawn, rub my eyes, and sit up from my seat a bit. He appraises me for a full beat in the relative dark of the car, but even so, I can tell his eyes are bloodshot from the smoke. He’s brought the smell of burning campfire into the car with him. “Were you asleep?” he asks.
Despite being bloodshot, his eyes soften as they take in my appearance. That odd sense of familiarity passes over me—the feeling I’ve known this man for much longer than I have. Like he’s seen me half-asleep in my Wonder Woman pajamas for a lifetime and still thinks I’m adorable. It’s the first time I’ve given credence to past lives; maybe Matteo was more to me in another universe too.
“Mmmm, maybe dozed off a little.” I sit up straight, wiggling my toes. I’d taken off my shoes in an effort to sit more comfortably, and now I regret it. “What’s the word?”
He shimmies out of his jacket, then awkwardly out of the Kevlar vest. The shirt beneath is filthy, pressed to his chest with sweat and soot. One yank has the button-down shirt pulled over his head, leaving him in nothing but his slacks and a white T-shirt that clings to his shoulders. I’m suddenly very awake. Yum.
He tosses those in the back seat, then reaches forward, cranks the engine, and begins driving.
“The explosion was well contained in the front lobby. A lot of flash but not much structural damage. It looks like it was meant to attract attention rather than destroy the building.”