I nod.
“You miss her.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement.
“Like crazy some days.”
“Were you close?” Her hand squeezes my thigh. It’s a delicate touch, but more powerful than anything I’ve felt in a very long time.
“Very.”
She yawns, and covers her mouth. I suddenly feel terrible for keeping her up all night working on my watch. “Do you want me to take you home so you can get some sleep? I could pick you up tonight in time for the show.”
“Nan’s day nurse will be in soon, and then it’s “keep Nan awake” time, so she’ll sleep at night. She never does, but they still try. There’s no sleep during the day when that’s happening.” She shakes her head, yawning again. “And I don’t trust you by yourself,” she says.
She couldn’t possibly know what I have planned. Could she? My heart starts to thud. “What do you mean?”
She grins. “I’m afraid you won’t come back to get me.” She sobers and looks into my eyes. “Plus, I want to experience your New Year’s Eve.” She looks up at me, her eyes searching mine. “Unless you don’t want me to.”
I want her to. I really, really do. “It’s barely eight am,” I say. “We have hours before Rocko’s opens and we can start working down the list. What do you want to do until then?” I’m up for anything, but I’d love some guidance.
“Can you take me to bed?” she asks. She yawns again.
“Bed?” I croak out.
She nods and lays her head on my shoulder. “We could take a nap. I could be persuaded to snuggle.”
I can’t think of anything I’d enjoy more, so I take her hand and pull her up from the bench. “You always this easy to get into bed?” I ask. I’m joking, but I’m kind of… not. I know I’m not going to have sex with this woman.
Her breath catches. And for the first time all day, she won’t look me in the face. “You wouldn’t happen to have double beds, would you?”
I shake my head. “A king,” I say.
“It’ll do,” she says, and she tangles her fingers with mine and we walk toward my hotel. I have never felt quite so hopeful. At least not in a very long time. “You going to stay on your side?” she asks.
I snort. “Do I look stupid?”
Faith
You know that moment in a movie when the girl walks into the dark basement to see what a noise was and you sit there screaming at the TV. No, don’t go in there! There’s a killer waiting to slash your throat down there in the dark! Yeah, this is my moment. Daniel opens the door to his hotel room and steps back so I can precede him. I grab the lapels of his jacket in my fists and look up at him. “You’re not going to hurt me, are you?”
His brow line shoots up. “Umm,” he says.
“Have you ever killed anybody?” I ask quickly.
He nods. “I was in the army.”
I shake my head frantically. “Outside the line of duty? Have you ever decapitated a strange, stupid woman who went back to your hotel room with you after seeing you across a room for a couple of hours?”
He laughs. It’s a deep belly laugh and it sounds so good on him. “You think I’d tell you if I did?” He turns me, smacks my bottom soundly and says, “Into the den of sin, lady. I’m right behind you with my handcuffs.”
The door snicks closed behind us and I lift a fingernail to my lips and nibble it. Maybe this wasn’t such a smart idea. Daniel reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pocketknife.
“Why do you have a knife?” I ask. I take two steps back.
He chuckles and looks me in the eye. “Real men carry pocket knives,” he says. “You never know when you’ll need to cut something.” He lifts my arm and puts the knife in my hand, closing my fist around it. “So you can protect yourself from anything that goes bump in the dark,” he whispers. He tweaks my nose. “Including me.”
“Do you have any other weapons?” I ask.
He nods. “I have a gun in the safe.” This time, he busies himself not looking at me.
“Locked up?” I ask.
He nods and grins.
“Why do you have a gun?” I ask.
“Because I have a right to bear arms,” he says with a shrug. He points to my hand. “But now you have a knife so you have nothing to worry about.”
“Except you taking it from me and using it on me.”
He takes his coat off and hangs it on the back of a chair. “If I wanted to do that, I would have already done it, dummy,” he says. He narrows his eyes and finally looks at me. “Why did you come here with me?” he asks. “Truly?”
Should I tell him? Should I tell him I saw the desperation in his eyes? Should I tell him I know how he’s feeling like all hope is lost? Should I tell him how I can sense it? “I once felt as lost as you,” I say quietly.
“I’m not lost,” he says. His voice is suddenly rough and abraded. “I’m right where I want to be.”
“I don’t mean directionally,” I shoot back.
“I’m not directionally challenged,” he says. He’s still tense, though, and I can tell I offended him.
“I wanted to help you with your list,” I say. I bite my lips together to keep from saying more that could offend him.
“Why?” he asks. He starts to rummage in his suitcase, pulling out fresh boxers and a T-shirt. He throws a pair of jeans over his shoulder.