Page 40 of D for Dead

‘Yeah, watch her, not shoot anyone who comes to the fucking door.’

‘I didn’t shoot you.’

‘Guess I got lucky.’

‘I was being cautious. How was I to know it was you standing the other side?’

Sullivan pointed to the peephole in the centre of the door. ‘Ever think about using this?’

Boaz reddened. ‘It was a gut reaction, okay?’

‘Gut reaction, my ass. So aside from trying to put a bullet in me, any other problems I should know about, Officer Trigger Happy?’

‘We’re all good. Amy, I mean, uh, Ms Gallaty, has been looking after me fine.’

Sullivan’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’re supposed to be looking after her.’

‘Well, yeah, I have. I meant she made me coffee and stuff. We watched TV, but I was keeping an eye on her.’ Boaz paused at Sullivan’s scowl, before adding with a suggestive hint. ‘I made sure I kept a real good eye on her.’

Although he didn’t bite, Amy swore Sullivan’s nostrils flared.

‘There hasn’t been any trouble,’ she told him, not wanting him to get the wrong idea.

Sullivan nodded, continuing to glare at Boaz. ‘I’ll take it from here,’ he said, his tone lighter than his expression.

‘But I thought Peterson was–’

‘Peterson isn’t coming. I said I’ll take it from here.’

‘What do you mean he isn’t–?’

‘I told you I’ll take it from here.’

For the first time Sullivan looked over at Amy, his dark eyes intense and unreadable.

She busied herself while he saw Boaz out, clearing away cups and filling the kitchen sink with soapy water. Hearing the door close and lock, she glanced over. Sullivan’s expression had softened and he met her eyes with a lazy cat stare. Something stirred inside her.

He had traded his suit for jeans and a T-shirt, suggesting he wasn’t punching the clock, but still had his sidearm resting snugly against his hip and a laptop bag under one arm.

‘You didn’t have to be so rude to him,’ she pointed out. ‘He was just doing his job.’

‘The guy is an idiot.’

He closed the distance between them, setting the laptop bag down and leaning back against the work surface, watching her as she washed up. Huckleberry had followed him through and sat patiently at his side; they both looked far too comfortable in her kitchen.

Amy felt heat rise up her neck.

‘So how come you’re here?’ she asked lightly.

‘I’m watching you.’

‘I’d have thought you’d have had more important things to do than watch me.’

‘Not right now.’

‘Okay. I thought there was supposed to be another officer. Peterson?’

Sullivan reached down, stroked Huckleberry’s head.