Cooperating, Deanna sniffed the air. "Smells great."
"New recipe." With one brow cocked, he tipped a finger under her chin. "What?"
"What, what?"
"You're upset."
She scowled and pushed his hand away. "Damn it, Finn, that's irritating. Don't you know a woman likes to think she has some mystery?" Still hoping to stall, she peeled out of her coat and hung it on the hall rack.
"What happened, Kansas?"
"We'll talk about it later. I'm starving." He merely shifted and blocked her path. "Spill it."
She could argue, but since an argument was precisely what she was hoping to avoid, what was the point?
"Will you promise to hear me out and not overreact?"
"Sure." He smiled at her as he swung an arm around her shoulders and led her to the steps. They sat together near the bottom landing, with the dog happily at their feet. "Is it about Angela?"
"Not directly." She blew out a long breath. "It was Marshall. He sort of ambushed me in the parking lot."
"Ambushed?"
His icy tone alerted her. But when she looked up at Finn, his eyes seemed calm enough. Curious, a little annoyed, but calm. "Just a figure of speech. He was upset. You know I haven't returned his calls." When Finn said nothing, she let the rest tumble out. "He was just angry and upset, that's all. About that. And about the files Angela had sent to me. I told you about them. Marshall has it in his head that I kept them. Of course, with the investigation going on he's worried. Naturally."
"Naturally," Finn said pleasantly. He'd hear about the rest anyway, Deanna reminded herself. From Joe, or someone else in the newsroom. That would be worse. "We had a little scuffle."
There was a dangerous light in Finn's eyes. "Did he put his hands on you?"
Deanna shrugged, hoping to lighten the mood. "In a manner of speaking. It was really just one of those push-shove sort of things. But Tim was there," she added quickly. "And Joe. So it was nothing. It was really nothing."
"He put his hands on you," Finn repeated. "And he threatened you?"
"I don't know that I'd call it a threat. It was just — Finn!" He was already up, removing his coat from the rack. "Finn, damn it, you said you'd be reasonable."
He shot her one look, one stunningly frigid look that had her heart stopping. "I lied."
Her knees were knocking together, but she was on his heels as he strode out of the house. The cold and the look in Finn's eye had her teeth chattering as she struggled into her coat. "Stop this now. Right now! What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to go explain to Pike why he should keep his hands off my woman."
"Your woman?" That tore it. She bounded ahead of him, slapping both hands onto his chest. "Don't you pull that macho bullshit on me, Finn Riley. I'm not going to…"
Her voice slid back down her throat when he propped his hands under her elbows and lifted her off the ground. His eyes were blazing.
"You are my woman, Deanna. That's not an insult, that's a fact. Anybody who manhandles you, anybody who threatens you has to deal with me. That's another fact. Got a problem with it?"
"No. Yes." Her feet hit the ground with a thump and she ground her teeth. "I don't know." How was she supposed to think when all she could see were those furious, deadly eyes boring into her. "Let's go back inside and talk this through reasonably."
"We'll talk when I get back."
She raced to the car after him. "I'm going with you." There was still a chance, a slim one, that she could talk him down.
"Go inside, Deanna."
"I'm going with you." She opened the door, climbed in and slammed it shut. He wasn't the only one who could slice flesh with a look. "If my man's going to go make a fool of himself, I'm going to be there. Got a problem with that?"
Finn slammed the door and turned the key. "Hell no."
The best Deanna could hope for now was that Marshall wouldn't be home.
The wind had picked up and held a fresh threat of snow. It raced through Finn's hair, sent it flying around his face as he stalked up to Marshall's door. He had only one thing on his mind and, like a skilled reporter, easily blocked out all distractions: Deanna's mumbled curses, the occasional swish of tires on the street, the numbing chill in the air.
"He's not worth it," Deanna said for the hundredth time. "He's just not worth your making a scene."
"I have no intention of making a scene. I'm going to talk to him, and he's going to listen. And then, unless I'm very much mistaken, you'll never see or hear from him again."
He had been wanting a confrontation since the day Deanna had rushed out of the CBC Building in tears, and into his arms. Finn could already feel the grim satisfaction of pleasure postponed.
Deanna saw his eyes slit like a predator's as the door opened. Her stomach clenched and she had one wild thought: to jump between them.
But Finn didn't lunge, as she'd been half terrified he would. He simply strolled across the threshold and into the foyer.
"I don't believe I invited you in." Marshall ran a finger over the black tie of his tuxedo. "And I'm afraid I'm on my way out."
"We'll make this as quick as possible, since I don't believe Deanna's comfortable being here."
"Deanna's always welcome in my home," Marshall said stiffly. "You are not."
"What you don't seem to understand is that we're a team. When you threaten her, you threaten me. I don't react well to threats, Dr. Pike."
"My conversation with Deanna was personal." "Wrong again." Finn stepped closer. The feral gleam in his eyes had Marshall stepping back. "If you come near her again, if you ever put your hands on her again, I'll bury you, in every way you can imagine."
"There are laws to protect a man against a physical attack in his own home."
"I have better ways of dealing with you. Angela's file on you made very interesting reading, Pike."
Marshall's eyes slid to Deanna. "She doesn't have the file. She destroyed it."
"No, Deanna doesn't have it. But you don't know what I have, do you?"
Marshall's attention snapped back to Finn. "You have no right—"
"I've got the First Amendment. Steer clear, Pike, way clear. Or I'll break you in half with it."
"You bastard." Fear of exposure propelled Marshall forward. He swung out, more in panic than design. Finn easily avoided the blow and followed it by one punishing fist to the midsection.
It was over in seconds. Deanna had done no more than squeak in response. Marshall had done no more than moan. And Finn, she realized as she gaped, had made no sound at all.
Then he crouched down, impossibly graceful and smooth. "Listen carefully. Don't ever come near Deanna again. Don't call, don't write, don't send a telegram. Are you getting this?" He was satisfied when Marshall blinked. "That should conclude our little interview." He stepped back to where Deanna still stood, openmouthed, on the stoop. Quietly, he shut the door. "Let's go."
Her legs were jelly. She had to lock her knees to keep from swaying. "Good God, Finn. Good God."
"We're going to have to reheat dinner," he said as he guided her to the car.
"You just — I mean you—" She didn't know what she meant. "We can't just leave him there."
"Of course we can. He doesn't need paramedics, Deanna. I only wrinkled his tux and bruised his ego."
"You hit him." Once she was seated, strapped in, she pressed both hands to her mouth.
His black mood had passed. He felt almost sunny as he drove fast through the windswept night. "Not exactly my style, but since he swung first, it worked for me."
She turned her head away. She couldn't explain, couldn't believe what she was feeling. The way he'd sliced Marshall with words. Sharp and cold as a sword. Then he'd shifted his body aside, graceful as a dancer. She hadn't seen the blow coming any more than Marshall had. He'd moved so fast, so stunningly. She pressed a hand to her stomach and bit back a little moan.