Kate Collins - Sleeping with Anemone

“With her luggage already in the trunk,” I added. “I’ll bet you any money that after she got to the hospital and saw what happened to Harding, she decided to leave the country.”

“But someone or something spooked her,” Marco said, “causing her to leave sooner than she’d expected.”

I sat back with a frustrated sigh. “With Honey out of the country, there’s no one to say whether Raand is involved.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. First we need to find out whether Honey’s departure and Harding’s beating are related to the kidnappings, because if they aren’t, we’re wasting our time. We know it wasn’t Raand who went after Honey because he’s in police custody.”

“He could have hired someone to go after Harding and Honey, maybe the same person who killed Hudge.”

“But again, someone botched the job. Harding didn’t die and Honey got away. And would Raand take that risk, considering the investigation is focused on him?”

“Maybe he was desperate.”

Marco tapped his fingers on the table. “We need to know what evidence the DA has on Raand.”

“Are you going to ask Reilly to help?”

“Nope.” He closed his notebook and stood up.

“Who else is there? You nixed my grilling Morgan at dinner tomorrow.”

Marco raised me up and pulled me into his arms. “I’m officially un-nixing you.”

“Really?”

“Abby, I’m counting on you to do what you do best.”

Awesome. “So”-I gave him a flirtatious glance-“you’re not angry about Rafe and me going up to New Buffalo?”

“Don’t push your luck,” he said with a little quirk of his mouth. “But the next time you decide to take a road trip, would you please let me know? I hate hearing it from Reilly.”

“I promise you’ll be the first to know.”

Marco shook his head. “It’s a good thing I like incorrigible women.”

“Excuse me? You mean woman, don’t you?”

“I mean you .” He dipped his head and our lips met, gently at first and then passionately, our bodies melding, soft curves meeting hard muscle, making me forget everything but the man against me. He sure knew how to kiss.

A few moments later, a key turned in the lock and then Nikki called, “Hello?”

Reluctantly, I broke away. “In here, Nikki. Marco and Rafe are here, too.” I glanced at Marco and shrugged. “Sorry. Bad timing.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Marco said, reaching for his jacket. “Now that Nikki’s home, I’ll run Rafe back to my place.” He kissed me on the tip of my nose and went to rouse his brother, calling back, “You need to hit the sack, Sunshine. It’s after midnight.”

Ugh. He was right. I had to be up in less than six hours.

Nikki peered around the corner. “So,” she said in a whisper, “everything okay?”

I knew she meant Marco and me. “We’re fine. I’ll tell you more tomorrow.”

“Hey, Nik, thanks for your help today,” Marco said, pushing Rafe toward the door. “Dinner is on me tomorrow.”

“About that,” Nikki said. “We’ll have to take a rain check. Greg has the flu. He left a message on my cell phone about an hour ago.”

Didn’t it figure that the one time I had Marco’s permission to be nosy, I couldn’t?

Wait. Yes, I could.

I woke up the next morning filled with all kinds of energy. I had a plan to get the information we needed from Morgan and it involved chicken soup. My mom always kept homemade soup in her freezer. I’d just stop on my way to work to pick it up.

When I came out of the bedroom, Marco was already shaved, his sheets folded neatly on the end of the sofa. He was wearing a T-shirt and jeans, doing push-ups on the living room carpet.

“Oatmeal this morning?” I asked.

“Sure. Fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty… I’ll be in to help in a moment.”

“That’s okay. Keep working those biceps, Salvare. The Irish chef is on duty.” I was in a generous mood. It felt great knowing Marco and I were a team again. Holmes and Watson. Batman and Robin. Marco and Abby. We were unstoppable.

Marco’s cell phone rang as I was pouring a packet of oatmeal in the bowl. “Would you get that, babe?” he called in between counts. “Phone’s on the table.”

And Nikki was sleeping, which he’d apparently forgotten. I dashed for the phone, glanced quickly at the screen, saw OUT OF AREA, and had an instant feeling of trepidation. “Hello?”

“Who is this?” a woman with a slight Italian accent demanded.

Yikes. Just as I feared, it was Francesca Salvare. “Um, just a minute, please,” I said, hurrying into the living room. “Your mom!” I whispered, shoving the phone at Marco. “Don’t tell her I’m here.”

“But you answered,” Marco whispered back.

“The last time I spoke with her, she quizzed me on my bowel habits!” I whispered. “And the time before that-”

“Hi, Mama. Yes, that was Abby. Because I was busy. Doing push-ups, Mama. I don’t think she recognized your voice, either. I don’t know why Rafe isn’t answering his phone. I’m not at home. Yes, I know what time it is. I slept here. Why? Do I need a reason?” Marco held the phone away to draw a deep breath. “Did you want something, Mama? Yes, I gave her the pattern book. She’s thinking about it.”

Ye gods. How was I going to get out of that one without hurting her feelings?

Marco put a hand over the phone to whisper, “She wants to talk to you.”

“No!” I whispered in alarm. “Tell her I’m leaving right now to go to work. Wait. Tell her I’m running late and have lots to do today. No, that’s no good. Tell her-”

“She can’t talk now, Mama. I’m sure she’ll let you know when she makes up her mind. Okay, I’ll have Rafe phone you later. Sure. Bye.

“Did you catch the gist of that?” Marco asked.

“Yes, and she’s not going to make my gown.” I headed into the kitchen, muttering, “I’m wearing jeans and a white blouse. End of discussion.”

I had just stirred hot water into the oats when I heard, “Abby, you need to see this.”

I put the bowls on a tray with spoons, napkins, and cups of coffee, and carried it to the living room. Marco had tuned in to the local cable TV station’s morning newscast, where a reporter was talking about a press conference. I put the tray on the coffee table, sat beside Marco on the sofa, and picked up my bowl.

Marco turned up the volume, catching the reporter in midsentence. “-head of operations at the Uniworld Distribution Center gave this statement yesterday.”

Head of operations? “Is this about Nils Raand?” I asked, spooning a bite of creamy oatmeal into my mouth.

“Yep. Raand bonded out yesterday afternoon,” Marco said.

“He did? Then maybe Raand is who Honey ran from.”

“It’s possible.”

A prerecorded clip showed a shot of the New Chapel courthouse, where microphones had been set up at the top of the steps. I watched as Nils Raand took his place in front of the mics, where a good half dozen reporters had gathered. Beside Raand was attorney Nathan Knowles in the standard-issue black wool dress coat. Raand sported a chic tan suede bomber jacket, brown pants, and shiny brown leather shoes.

“My arrest was a mistake,” Raand said, “and in no way reflects on the good name of Uniworld Food Corporation. Uniworld remains one of the premier corporations in this country, dedicated to providing quality food products for everyone.”

I nearly choked at that remark. “Food products laced with hormones, that is!”

“Will you be suing the police for false arrest?” a reporter called.