Midnight Betrayal (Midnight #3)(61)

Her body shook in a silent laugh. “I’ll try to control myself.”

Kirra beat them to the bed, curling up in the exact center of the duvet.

Conor stretched out on the bed and picked up the remote. “If you get too warm, feel free to take yours off. I won’t be offended.”

“That’s kind of you to offer.” She chuckled, easing onto the mattress.

“Yeah, I’m considerate that way.” He picked up the remote. “Mind if I put on the TV for a while? I’m not used to sleeping this early.”

“It won’t bother me. I often sleep with the TV on for company. I find the Weather Channel the most conducive to sleep.”

“I do that too.” Conor settled on a hockey game and adjusted the volume to low.

“Do you think she’s alive?”

He glanced at her profile, delicate in the flickering light from the TV. “I don’t know.”

“The police are convinced she’s dead.”

He reached across the bed and took her hand. He intertwined their fingers. “I know.”

“It’s not right. People can’t just disappear.” Her voice caught. The light played across her eyes, shining with moisture. She brushed a fingertip across her cheek.

“It’s not your responsibility. It’s up to the police to find out what happened to Zoe. There’s only so much we can do.”

“I just want her to be all right, but I know she probably isn’t.”

“Come here.” Conor shifted sideways and tugged her closer. Kirra shot him a look, then scooted farther down on the mattress and rested her head on his foot. Louisa settled in his arms and put her head on his chest. A faint shudder passed through her body. He stroked her arm with a slow, rhythmic motion until her body relaxed.

Watching over her while she slept was no hardship. If only Zoe had had someone to look out for her. Louisa wanted to believe her intern was still alive, but Conor doubted it. He’d seen the pictures of Riki LaSanta’s body. Whoever did that to a young woman enjoyed killing too much to stop. And Conor was going to make sure whoever it was didn’t set his sights on Louisa.





23


Sullivan’s was busy on Sunday evening. From her seat at a booth, Louisa sipped her Diet Coke and watched Conor draw a tall glass of dark beer from a tap. For the last two hours, he’d served drinks and talked with customers. He seemed to know almost everyone on a first-name basis. But every time she’d glanced at him, those striking turquoise eyes were focused on her. Conor’s eyes weren’t the only ones she felt on her skin. Everyone seemed to be staring at her.

Even the plainclothes cop making a futile attempt to blend in at the back of the bar.

A shadow fell over the table. Conor’s sister, Jayne, was tall and lovely, with eyes of the same shade as her brothers’ and curly red hair that tumbled carelessly down her back.

“Do you mind if I join you?” Jayne set two plates loaded with burgers and fries on the table and slid into the booth.

“Not at all.”

“Good. I brought you dinner.” Jayne sipped a glass of water. “I hope you like burgers. Conor ordered me on dinner break. I thought we could eat together.”

“I love burgers.” Louisa took off the top bun and squirted ketchup on the meat. She added a puddle on the plate for her fries.

Jayne grinned, a dimple compressing a small scar on her cheek. “Good.”

Louisa set down the bottle.

“I’m starving.” Jayne picked it up and loaded her burger. “It’s amazing a being the size of a peanut can make me this hungry. I’ve been either sick or starving every minute of the day since I got pregnant.”

“Congratulations.” Louisa bit into her sandwich. “You look excited.”

Jayne beamed. “Thanks. I’m thrilled.”

“When are you due?”

“Not till June, which is good. Reed and I are getting married at Christmas. I’m hoping to feel better by then. This morning sickness goes on till lunchtime.”

“How’s the burger?” Conor interrupted, sliding into the booth, bumping Louisa’s hip to make room. He put one arm over her shoulders across the top of the booth. With the other hand, he stole a fry from her plate and popped it into his mouth.

“It’s good. Aren’t you going to eat?” Louisa asked.

“I’ll get something later.” He kept an eye on the bar. “No big games tonight. Things will slow down by seven.” Conor turned to his sister. “How’s Scott?” he asked Jayne.

“Better.” She smiled. “He’s out of ICU, but he’ll need to stay in the hospital for a few more days. Reed wants to bring him home for a couple of weeks to recuperate, but Scott is arguing already. He said he’s already behind in his classes.”

“Arguing is a good sign,” Conor said.

A scraping sound drew Louisa’s attention to the corner of the room. Three young men gathered. Two held guitars. The third perched on the stool behind the drum set. Feedback squealed.

Conor leaned across the table toward his sister. “Who told them they could play tonight?”

Jayne blushed. “I did. I’m sorry.”

“I thought we had a Friday-or-Saturday-night-only policy,” he said, raising his voice over another ear-piercing screech.