I stumbled over a crack in the sidewalk, and he steadied me.
“Whoa, there. You okay, kid?”
Why was I so destroyed by a little bit of wine?
“Fine,” I said, wondering if Marjorie had snuck vodka into it.
My gut told me something was off. Irene—and her idol, Gavin de Becker—always said to listen to those instincts. When it comes to survival, your gut was never wrong. But my head was swimming and it was hard to concentrate.
My phone pinged, too, an incoming message. I glanced at it and saw it was from Jared’s attorney.
I need to talk to you. Call me.
I blinked at it. This was important. But my brain was set to slow motion.
“Something more important than me?” Russo asked.
“No,” I said, and tucked my phone into my pocket.
Russo stared at me silently for a beat, his clear blue eyes unreadable. I felt like a specimen under a microscope, and I desperately wanted to know what he was thinking.
“Come here,” he commanded, voice low.
“I just…” I glanced around the empty parking lot and up to the darkened restaurant. I felt exposed, suddenly. Alone. Also, my normally game-for-anything self didn’t feel so game for anything.I just wanted to crawl into bed. Maybe it was because the sidewalk beneath my feet wobbled more than the waves on Lake Sanguis.
“Nobody’s around,” Russo pressed. He reached out then and grabbed my wrist, his thick fingers easily wrapping around it. I could fight him, but I didn’t. I really didn’t want to fight Russo. His strong hands and his habit of spending every other weekend at the boxing ring meant he might win.
He pulled me even closer, but instead of kissing me, as I expected, he dipped his head down to my neck, like a vampire ready to drink. The move caught me off guard; who went for the neck first? Now I was staring at the starry sky above our heads and felt even more unsteady on my feet. The stars above me spun faster than they should have.
Just then, a single pair of headlights shone down the adjacent street. For a second, I feared it was the Jeep Wagoneer, but then the vehicle got closer, and I realized it was Tammy’s minivan.
Great.
News of Russo necking with me in a restaurant parking lot would be all over town tomorrow.
“We’re not alone,” I said, nodding toward the retreating minivan.
“You worried about that?” Russo laughed.
I rubbed my arms. “I’m also cold,” I said. A weak excuse at best. But my heart was thudding in my chest.
“I know ways to warm you up.” Russo lifted his head and met my gaze. “I’ll show you at my place.”
“At Koi? But…” Had he checked into his new room already? How did I not know? My Airstream was wrecked. The police were treating it as a crime scene.
“I kept my original rental,” he said. “So we can go there. It’s secluded. In the woods.”
But I didn’t want to go to the woods. I wanted to go back to Jude’s house.
“I can’t,” I said quickly.
“Why not?” He tugged me closer.
I couldn’t think of a good reason. My head felt like a carousel set to top speed. Damn wine. I tried to take a step, but my knees buckled. Russo’s strong arms grabbed me.
“Whoa, there. That wine went to your head.”
“I’m not a lightweight,” I protested to myself almost as much as to Russo.
