“Wait a minute,” he says, stepping back slightly. “You said Peyton was there? Hanging out with you?”
I feel my stomach drop a little. “Well,hanging outmight be a strong term?—”
“Hattie.” His eyes narrow with the focus of a man who solves crimes for a living. “She doesn’t hang out with you. She can hardly tolerate you on a good day. She wants you to investigate, doesn’t she?”
I give a nervous laugh that sounds forced even to my own ears. “Whatever would she want that for? We all know that’syourjob.”
But he’s not buying it. His brows draw together in thatway that means he’s putting pieces together, and I have the sinking feeling I’m not going to like his conclusions.
“Did she ask you to clear her name?”
“Now why would you think a thing like that?” Because it happens to be true.
“Because I know Peyton Blakey,” he counters. “And I know you, and I know that the only reason she’d seek you out is if she’s desperate enough to ask for help.”
Peyton is so predictable,Cricket mewls while guarding the Chinese food.The female is clearly in trouble and needs Hattie’s assistance. It’s pack behavior. And truthfully, Hattie, you really are the only person who could help her.
Are we still getting dinner?Rookie asks hopefully.Because all this talking is making me hungry, and that egg roll is calling my name.
“Hattie.” Killion’s voice takes on that official tone that means Detective Maddox has entered the building. “I need you to stay away from this investigation.”
“Oh, come on.” I give his ribs a quick tweak and he jerks slightly. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
“Seraphina was strangled with a string of Christmas lights.” He tips his head as he says it.
“Well, that’s one way to get in the holiday spirit.” I can’t help but cringe as I say it.
“Do you know what that tells me?” He’s not amused by my attempt at levity.
“That the killer has a twisted sense of seasonal decoration?”
“No.” His expression grows serious, and something cold settles in my stomach. “It means the killer is impulsive andvolatile. Someone who uses whatever’s handy, whatever’s available in the moment. And that makes them unpredictable.”
The words hang in the air between us, and suddenly the Christmas twinkle lights around my cabin don’t seem quite so cheerful.
“You could be next,” he says quietly.
The silence stretches long enough for Cricket to start making irritated sounds about dinner being delayed, and for Rookie to whimper softly at the tension in the room.
I clear my throat. “So what you’re saying is, I should stay home and bake cookies while you go out and solve crimes like some sort of one-man Christmas crime-fighting unit?” I’m almost teasing. Almost.
“Hattie,” he offers a mournful smile, “I’m saying you should let the professionals handle the dangerous parts.”
“And I’m saying that’s rich coming from someone who’s been letting me help solve cases since practically the day we met.”
“That was different.”
“How?”
“You weren’t dating me then. I wasn’t terrified of losing you.”
The admission hangs between us, raw and honest, and it does something dangerous to my resolve. But I can see where this conversation is heading, and I know from experience that the only way to defuse Killion when he gets into protective mode is with direct action.
So I kiss him.
It’s a kiss that saysI hear youandI’m not going anywhereandplease stop worryingall at once. It also appears to short-circuitwhatever very reasonable argument he had lined up, which honestly was the entire goal.
When I pull back, his eyes are slightly glazed and his breathing has changed.
