“Jinkies! How did you get out of your cage?” She crawled across the bed and snatched the thing up midescape route, which apparently involved trying to wiggle its way into the nightstand drawer.
“Jinkies?”
“That’s his name.”
“You’re a fan of Scooby Doo?”
“No. My brother was. He named him Jinkies. He was his.” She crawled back off the bed one-handed, the little furry monster in her other hand, then blew her hair out of her face and walked over to me. “Shame, this is Jinkies, the ferret.”
The ferret was pretty cute up close. It wriggled around in Dessa’s grip, clever black eyes glittering.
“You sure it’s not a weasel?”
“Ferret.”
“Whatever. You have to admit it’s a terrible hat.”
Dessa rolled her eyes. “Give me a minute. I’ll get him settled.”
She padded out of the room, holding the feasel up to her face so she could coo at it.
Yes, I thought it was adorable of her.
Once she was out of the room, I realized I was ravenous. I glanced at the bedside clock. It was an hour and several minutes off, but with some quick math, I figured it was about three in the morning.
As soon as Dessa returned without Jinkies, I caught her hand and walked toward the door.
“Hungry?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Good thing I know how to break into the kitchen.” We snuck hand in hand through the darkened hallway and down the stairs.
Eleanor followed along behind us, and I was grateful that she had given us as much privacy as the ties between she and me allowed.
The dining area was empty; the cleaning crew had gone home. And I knew the morning shift wouldn’t be in to start the breads and pastries for at least an hour.
I stepped up to the kitchen door, took hold of the handle, lifted, and gave the door a shove with my shoulder. The old lock gave, and the kitchen was ours.
Eleanor stayed on the other side of the door.
“What is your pleasure, lass?” I asked, walking over to the refrigerator. “Anything you want, sky’s the limit. Let’s see, we have beef stew, hand-tossed pizza, rosemary chicken. Ah, spanakopita. I know what I’m having.”
I pulled out the Greek dish, turned.
Dessa was leaning against the counter with a brownie in one hand and a half-eaten piece of cheesecake in the other.
“What?” she mumbled around the cheesecake. “You said anything, right?”
“Why am I not surprised you are an eat-dessert-first kind of gal?”
She swallowed. “No. This is my second course. I had you first.” And before I could say anything, she held up the dessert. “Want to taste my cheesecake?” She blinked big, innocent eyes.
Lord, how could I say no? “Why, yes. Yes, I do.” I walked over and leaned into her until she had to arch back just a bit. Then I kissed her, holding her lips with mine, stroking my tongue along hers until she exhaled contentedly.
“Good?” she asked as I pulled back a bit.
I licked my lips. “Never had better. But all it did was whet my appetite.”
“Oh,” she said. “So do you want to . . . ?” She pointed at the door with the brownie and wiggled her eyebrows.
“Good God, woman,” I said with a laugh. “Yes, I want that. But a man needs his strength. Let me get some food in my belly.” I shoved the entire spanakopita in the microwave, heated it more or less evenly, then set it on the counter and ate damn near half of it before I noticed Dessa had wandered off, because she was wandering back with two beers and a fork in her hands.
“I didn’t take the expensive stuff,” she said, setting a beer bottle in front of me. She’d already removed the cap.
“Last time you bought me a drink . . .”
“I only poison on a first date,” she said. “Share a bite or two of your spanakopita?”
“Help yourself.” I pushed the pan closer to her, and she took a bite.
“Mmm. Not as good as the cheesecake, but mmm.”
I tipped back the beer took a long draw. God, could a man be happier? I suddenly understood this be-with-one-person thing. The let’s-give-this-a-go thing. Coming home to her every day would be like visiting heaven. If heaven were a sweet-eyed, naughty-minded redhead.
I took a deep breath and savored the silence and bliss filling me.
It had been a long time since I’d felt so good.
Dessa picked up her beer, then sidled over to me and slipped her arm around my back. I wrapped my arm around her and kissed her temple. She took a drink of beer, then tucked her head into my shoulder.
“Shame,” she said quietly against my chest.
“Hmm?”
“This is nice.”
“But?”
“No. Just this is nice,” she said. “Better than I expected.”
I chuckled. “How badly did you underestimate me, darlin’?”
“No.” She took a drink of beer, was quiet for a minute. “I underestimated myself. How . . . how I would feel about you.”
“That makes two of us,” I said. “I’m surprised how much I feel about me too.”
She slapped my stomach.
“Ow,” I chuckled.
“What about me?” she asked, shifting so she could look up at me.
I didn’t want to lie to her. So I didn’t.
“I’ve never felt this way about anyone else in my life,” I said evenly.
She nodded, understanding, I thought, the rarity and truth of that statement. She let go of the breath she was holding. “To tomorrow,” she said, holding up her beer.
“And all our days after that.” I clinked my bottle against hers, took a drink.
A simple toast to hide a lingering promise. That maybe we’d do this together for a while, see if two lives could become one.
That’s when I heard the car engine approaching, the gravel shifting beneath the tires. Someone was coming our way in a hell of a hurry.
Here’s the thing about having an assassin as a girlfriend: she didn’t ask me who I thought it was, didn’t ask if she needed to grab her things, didn’t ask what she should do. She was out of the kitchen before I was, and up the stairs for her things.
I went to the window, looked out.
It was Terric’s car.
This wasn’t good. This couldn’t be good.
He parked as close to the door as he could without plowing into the place and left the engine running.
I strode over to the door, wishing I’d put on my boots and grabbed my coat before I’d come downstairs. Or wishing I’d told Dessa to get them for me.
I pulled the door open. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
Terric was shock-pale, his hair pulled back in a band tight against his head. His eyes were bloodshot red, and his heart was pumping too fast, erratic.
“Victor,” he choked out. “He’s been hit.”
“How bad?” I asked.
Terric just shook his head.
“Fuck. Where is he? Terric, where is he?” I reached out, dropped my hand on his shoulder. My touch seemed to help him focus. He swallowed.
“I don’t know, Shame. I think his house.”
I didn’t ask him why he had come all the way out to the inn before going to Victor’s to check on him. I didn’t ask how he knew he was hurt. I’d find that out on the way over.
“Give me your keys.”
He dropped them into my hand.
“Let’s go,” I said.
“Here are your shoes.” Dessa was right behind me.
I turned. She’d put on her coat and shoes, and from the cut of her jacket, and the duffel bag in one hand, I knew she also had her guns.
But along with her things, she’d had the foresight to bring me socks, shoes, my sweater, and the baseball bat.
I loved a woman who was steady in a crisis.