by Regan Black
“One last thing. When are you coming back on full-time?”
“I’m not ready.” Her gaze narrowed, and he realized the habitual answer wasn’t going to cut it, not while he was standing in front of her.
“I can’t commit to anything while Lissa—Miss Baxter—is still at risk.”
Her gaze narrowed at his slip. “You’re aware that reply raises concerns for me?”
“Other than covering shifts, I don’t see a problem. Lissa didn’t know Sarah any more than I knew her friend Noelle.”
“I hope that’s true, Carson. I want an answer from you about the job by Monday, regardless of Miss Baxter’s situation. I need to get back to full staff, and this department needs you.” She punctuated the last words with her pen aimed at his chest.
“Yes, ma’am.”
The conversation circled through his head as he drove over to the museum. Too distracted to be helpful at the house, he decided to wait in the parking lot or walk the grounds for an hour or two rather than be anywhere else right now.
He noted the increased police presence along with an extra security guard patrolling the grounds on foot. Thick walls and layers of protocols stood between her and any drug dealers out here. So why was he avoiding the obvious decision to go back full-time? Evelyn would keep him on days for a while if he asked nicely. Being a paramedic had always felt like the best combination of all his interests. Boring shifts were rare, he faced new challenges each week, and he could use his skills to help others.
Sarah had been all about helping people. One more reason he couldn’t see her running drugs. When they were on a call, she was dialed in to doing what was best for the patient. No way in hell that equaled dealing drugs.
Increasingly frustrated with the mental gerbil wheel and with more than an hour before Lissa was done for the day, Carson walked around to the front entrance of the museum and bought a ticket. He hadn’t been here as a visitor in ages. His last visit, with Sarah, was to answer a call on a suspected cardiac arrest. That was just over a year ago, he recalled, as he took the central stairs up to the Arms and Armor gallery, as he remembered doing on that call. They’d just dropped off a patient and had been heading back to the firehouse when dispatch sent them over. Museum security had used the mobile defibrillator to keep the guy going, and Carson and Sarah had taken over from there. It was a good day with a happy ending, and both the victim’s family and the museum had written thank-you notes to the PFD.
His phone gave off the double-vibration signal of an incoming text message, and he pulled the device from his pocket to check. He felt the smile on his face as he read the note from Lissa telling him she could leave anytime.
He sent a reply, letting her know where he was, and she responded that she would come up to meet him. Maybe she’d show him some piece she’d worked on. Or maybe he should take it down a notch. He wasn’t in the market for a relationship, no matter how pleasant it was to spend time with Lissa. And she had enough on her plate without his particular brand of brokenness clogging up her situation.
Still, he discovered he was as eager as a kid looking into a candy store window while he waited for her. Something about the woman made him wish for the elusive happy ending his parents and sister Renee had found. It didn’t help that Lissa made him want to flirt and linger over the smallest kisses, or share small talk and simple meals.
Scrubbing a hand over his face, he pulled back from that slippery slope. He was reading way too much into a random moment when he’d been the safe outlet she needed. He knew from experience that grief sex and a few kisses didn’t make a relationship. He blotted the r word from his vocabulary. She needed support through the crisis, not a clingy guy who had yet to reclaim control of his own life.
Watching for her, he enjoyed the view as she walked across the gallery, her long hair pulled back from her face, her smile wide when she spotted him. In her tailored navy slacks and a pale green sweater set, she was a vision.
“You look handsome.” She pushed up onto her toes and kissed his cheek. Her hand slid into his as naturally as breathing, but her gaze turned wary. “Are we going somewhere?”
“Yes,” he decided on the spot. He didn’t want to share why he’d really cleaned up, didn’t want to dwell on the baseless accusations against Sarah. Quickly he did a rundown of restaurants nearby and decided on a place he’d missed recently and trusted completely. On a Wednesday they shouldn’t have trouble making a short-notice reservation, and if they did, he’d come up with an alternate plan. “Do you like sushi?”
“Yes!” Her dark eyes sparkled.
“Great.” He pulled out his phone again. “I’ll make sure they have a table ready for us after you show me your favorite gallery.”
She squeezed his hand. “Sounds a bit like a date.”
Glancing down, he saw she was teasing and replied in kind. “Is it standard practice to bring dates to work?”
“No. I prefer to scope out the galleries for single men and circle like a shark until it’s time to close in.”
He laughed, trying to imagine Lissa as a maneater. “Does that make me the bait or the catch today?”
A big laugh burst out of her, and she smothered it against his shoulder when other visitors turned and stared at them.
“You’re setting a bad example for museum goers.”
“Oh, you have no idea the trouble I’m capable of.” Her lips curved in a sly smile. Then her cheeks went red. “Well, maybe you do.”
He liked this side of her, the woman she was without the pressure of unpleasant circumstances.
“Why is this one your favorite?” he asked as they entered one of the European art galleries. When she didn’t answer, he wondered if he’d finally hit the too-personal mark, though he couldn’t imagine it after recent events.
She wandered by a few more paintings. “For the longest time, I dreamed of becoming a writer or an athlete or a secretary. Anything as far removed from my parents’ absorption with history and artifacts as I could get. Don’t let me mislead you. They are wonderful people. They’re just completely engrossed with their purpose in life. I envied that focus, especially when I came to the conclusion there wasn’t room for me within that tight sphere.”
Her struggle to be noticed and accepted by the people who shouldn’t have ignored her astounded him. His parents weren’t perfect, and there were times when he would’ve preferred going unnoticed, but he’d always known he was valued for his own skills.
“So I rebelled in my way, searching for who I was, where I could fit in.” Her lips tugged to the side as she shook her head. “Imagine my surprise when I got to college and discovered I didn’t want to stray too far from the way I was raised. Preserving the past, seeking to uncover the secrets of master artists.” She sighed, pausing in front of a painting of a boulevard at night labeled as a Pissarro. “As much as I’d like to avoid the phrase, it’s in my bones.”
He reached out and twirled a lock of her hair around his finger, much the way he felt utterly twisted around hers. “But as you said, you found a way to put down roots.”
“Yes.” She tipped her head to the side. “You have no idea how good it feels to wake up in the same place month after month. Traveling is exciting, but to have a routine and see familiar faces? No contest.”
They walked the gallery, chatting about how she and the team of conservators kept various displays in ideal condition for visitors and history. It was the respite they both needed, he realized as they worked their way back toward the west entrance. “As a kid on field trips, we’d come here and be awed by it all, but aside from Indiana Jones, I never gave a thought to how it got here.”
“Good,” she said.
“Good?”
She grinned up at him. “If we’re doing our jobs right, the focus should be on the beauty of the exhibit, not the preservation.”
&
nbsp; They passed through security, his patience tested while she exchanged a few words with everyone on duty, until at last they were outside. His nerves gave a kick during the short walk to the truck despite the awareness that Grant’s team and others from the police department were out here keeping an eye on them.
Nothing untoward occurred on the short drive to the restaurant, and walking in, they were greeted with a bright exuberance and led to a table that gave them an excellent view of the sushi chef.
Accepting steaming towels, she and Carson wiped their hands as the waiter brought sake and poured for both of them. “You’re popular here,” Lissa said.
“Sarah and I were regular customers.” He lowered his voice to add, “And we’ve answered a kitchen emergency call once or twice.”
“The detective came by the museum today, asking about Sarah and Noelle.” She picked up her menu. “We don’t have to talk about it right now.”
“Now’s fine.” He gestured for her to spill the details. As she filled him in, he wanted to swear. Werner was worse than a dog with a bone, determined to find the link between the two women.
When they’d placed their orders, he refilled her sake cup, then his. “I’d like to know what he thinks he has. As close as we were to our friends, as much time as we spent with them, I find it strange neither of them ever crossed paths with either of us.”
She ran a fingertip around the edge of her cup. “I’ve been mulling over that same thing off and on all day. I’m convinced he’s on the wrong track.”
He thought they were the only two people in the city who agreed on that score. “Why?”
“Because Noelle shared everything with me. Well, everything except the drug situation, I mean. I just can’t make what I heard that night fit with who she was.”
“Two things bug me,” he admitted. “The matchbook and what feels like excessive interest in you and your apartment.”
Her eyes went wide. “I know!” She leaned closer. “I can see them trying to silence me as a witness.” She shivered. “But why tear up my apartment or try to kidnap me?”
They tabled the conversation as the waiter delivered a savory tuna tataki appetizer, courtesy of the chef.
“Why are you hung up on the matchbook?” she asked when the waiter walked off.
“Once word got around that Grant was using the club to help out people in a jam, civilians or first responders, Sarah started carrying matchbooks in the rig. She’d leave them with victims sometimes to let them know help was out there.”
The conversation drifted away from Sarah and into other, more pleasant areas while they ate and watched the chef conduct his own brand of artistry.
“Have you ever been called out to treat a knife injury?” she murmured at Carson’s ear, watching the chef slice and plate another beautiful order.
Carson smirked. “Privacy laws mean I’m not allowed to disclose that kind of thing,” he teased in a whisper.
Her entire face glowed with suppressed laughter, and the intimacy landed like a punch in his gut. He hadn’t been so open with anyone other than Sarah. It felt good. Right. While the first meeting hadn’t been ideal, he marveled with more than a little gratitude that his path had crossed with Lissa’s.
* * *
Lissa thoroughly enjoyed both the food and the company, despite their occasional conversational forays into the mystery of Noelle’s murder. Maybe Noelle had simply found the matchbook or picked it up when she’d been out with other friends. Or maybe there was a lot more to it.
Either way, she didn’t recall Noelle urging her to find the Escape Club that night, just her best friend’s pleas to let Lissa live. “She bargained for my life,” Lissa said quietly as they walked out of the restaurant. “I’ll never forget the sound of her voice, begging for my life.”
“She loved you.”
He’d said that before, and she thought she might need the reminder frequently for some time to come. “Because I expected her to be around forever, I took my time with her for granted.” She snuggled into the warmth of his arm as it came across her shoulders. “I wasn’t ready to lose her, and contrary to the evidence, I can’t make myself think the worst of her.”
“No one is asking that,” he said.
“Aren’t they? It’s pretty obvious Noelle was in up to her eyeballs with those people. There had to be a reason—an excellent reason—she was associating with criminals.”
He pulled her close. “The cops will figure it out.”
“Before or after you get tired of babysitting me?”
“Long before,” he replied. “You can count on that.”
His certainty simultaneously comforted her and worried her. At the corner, waiting for the walk signal, she felt his gaze on her. She couldn’t make herself look at him with this odd combination of vulnerability and anticipation sliding through her.
He cleared his throat and his lips parted. “Lissa—”
His words were cut off when someone rammed him from behind, pushing him into the street in front of oncoming traffic.
Lissa screamed as Carson stumbled and curled away from the first vehicle, got jostled by the fender, and slid over the hood of a compact sedan, disappearing behind a passing truck. Brakes squealed, car horns blew and flashes went off as bystanders snapped pictures with cell phones.
Helpless and horrified, she surged after him, only to get caught when someone grabbed her, one unyielding hand on her shoulder, the other on her elbow and propelling her forward. Damn it, not again. She twisted, following the movement with a balled fist, and connected with her captor’s rib cage. The strike made her bones sing, but she tried again. The thugs would not take her, not now, and definitely not when Carson needed her help. She lifted her foot, planning to stomp her captor’s foot, and was blocked.
“On your side.” The woman holding her jerked her around, revealed a silver badge hidden under a long sweatshirt, and then rushed her across the street. “Hurry up.”
Lissa’s mind reeled with the new information, and she tried to get a better look at the woman behind her, but couldn’t. She forgot about the woman when she spotted Carson. He’d been pulled out of the street by a man she’d never seen before, who had propped him against a building, his long legs stretched out toward the sidewalk. “Are you okay?” She knelt at his side, her hands running lightly over his face, down his arms while she asked him where it hurt. “Do you know these people?”
“Not directly,” he said.
“We’ll get acquainted,” the woman said. “Can you walk?” she asked Carson.
“Sure. Nothing feels broken.”
Lissa worried over every wince and sigh as they helped him to his feet. “What the hell is going on?”
“Thanks for going out tonight,” the woman addressed Carson again. “Smart move.”
Lissa studied him, saw his face pale at what was probably meant as a compliment. She couldn’t believe he’d used them as bait, yet she saw the flicker of guilt in his eyes.
“We’ll walk you to your truck and follow you to the house,” the man said.
“Great. Thanks.” Carson wheezed.
Lissa tucked her body close to Carson’s and leveled a hard stare at the woman. “We’re not going anywhere until I see full identification and hear an explanation.”
The woman, her pale hair reflecting the various lights around them, hitched a shoulder. “Nothing to explain. We’re just a couple of good people helping out a guy who had a little bad luck,” she said.
“It’s okay, Lissa,” Carson said. “Let’s hear them out.”
“I get the feeling we don’t have a choice,” she muttered. “Do you want a hospital?” Her heart had yet to settle back to its normal position or slow to a reasonable rate.
“Not now. I’ll let you know,” he replied as they walked up the block.
She could hardly force the issue after she’d put up such resistance to medical care. Still, she had to try. “It’s one thing when you have an expert to keep an eye on you. But I don’t know what signs of trouble to look for.”
“I’m fine,” he assured her. “Better if you drive.”
She took the keys when they reached the truck and, like a mother hen, watched his every move as he settled into the passenger seat and fastened his seat belt. She closed his door and turned to where the man and woman who’d helped them lingered at the tailgate. “Who are you two?”
“Friends,” the woman assured her. “Werner has had me tailing you, and this is Adam. He’s here doing a favor for an old friend.”
“Grant Sullivan,” Lissa said, and the big man inclined his head.
“Drive straight to the house and stay put,” the woman said. “We’ll let Werner know what happened.”
“Thanks for your help,” she said, hoping it came out more sincere than grudging.
Neither of them spoke on the way to Carson’s place, though she suspected they had differing reasons. Adrenaline pumped through both of them. She could practically see it flashing in the air.
She bit back the questions tumbling through her head. All of them sounded more like accusations he didn’t deserve. He hadn’t taken her out specifically as bait. He’d taken her out for dinner. The critical factor was that being with her had put him in danger. When they turned down his street, she opened her mouth and heard his voice.
“Don’t say it.”
She shot him a long look. “I beg your pardon?”
“You’re either going to ask if I planned it or tell me you’re staying elsewhere tonight with some dumb excuse that I’m at risk.”
She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, wishing the garage door would open faster. “I don’t want to talk about it out here,” she said, pulling into the garage. She cut the engine and handed him the keys, but he caught her hand instead.
“Good. I don’t want to talk at all.” He punched the button to lower the garage door and yanked her across the seat, all but devouring her mouth with a searing kiss.