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“We’ve got one stalker.” Marie didn’t want dinner.
“Who’s either in the medical field—which would explain his access to cyanide—or knows someone who is.” Gabi closed up the half-filled cartons in the middle of the table.
“He could have purchased the gloves at any medical supply place.”
“But he can’t just go buy cyanide, can he?” Liam sat back, his hands on his thighs as he addressed Elliott.
“No. But there are all kinds of ways to get it. Legally and not. They’re following up on all legitimate ways they can, but it’ll be a sheer stroke of luck if we get this guy that way.”
“It’s possible, though, right?” Marie cleared away the paper plates, some with food still on them, and dumped them in the trash.
“If he made a mistake, yes. And everyone does, eventually.”
“And until then?” Gabi, who’d put the cartons of leftover food in the refrigerator, was back, standing at the corner of the table she and Marie had picked out together several years before.
“We continue as we are,” Elliott said. “With the addition of the Denver police keeping someone nearby on every shift. We’ve got armed security on both the f
ront and back doors. I’ll be checking the mail every day. And none of the three of you go anywhere without an escort.”
“Meaning you,” Marie said.
He shrugged. Looked at Liam. “That’s your call,” he said. “There’s no way, as Marie’s husband, I can be considered impartial. If you want me to stay on the job I will. But there’ll be no hurt feelings if you need to hire someone else.”
“Anyone else would drive me crazy,” Liam said. And then grinned. “Half the time you drive me crazy and I like you.”
“We’re going to be fine,” Marie said. Life would throw them some curveballs. There would be challenges. But she knew that between the four of them, they’d handle whatever came their way.
As long as they stuck together.
She wasn’t going to worry.
Or let fear run her life.
She was going to let herself have her happily ever after.
* * *
ELLIOTT WAITED UNTIL after the rush Sunday morning to head downstairs to the coffee shop. He’d taken some time, first, to look around and figure out where the possessions he wanted to bring with him might fit in. How he could complement Marie’s décor, while having a piece of himself at the same time. As soon as the first rush was done, he and Marie were heading over to his place. To pack up the rest of his things.
Overall, he thought the prospects of his stuff fitting in with hers were good. As long as she was agreeable to his antique gun cabinet in the room that used to be Gabrielle’s. They’d already discussed the fact that his bed would fit in there nicely. To have when her mother and Bruce came to stay. Or if his aunt ever did. He still hadn’t called to tell her he was married. He had to tell Marie the truth before he could accept congratulations from the woman who’d raised him.
Hopefully Marie wouldn’t have too much of a problem switching out the nightstand on his side of the bed with the locking one he had next to the bed in his apartment. It was where he kept his ammunition.
And there was no reason to think she’d have a problem. The wood actually matched what she had in her room. Just the style was a little different.
He was walking around, frantically cataloging his possessions in his mind—looking for a place for himself to fit in, to make Marie’s apartment as much his home as it was hers—because he didn’t want to think about their life together disintegrating around them.
Couldn’t think about losing her.
And had to face the very real possibility that he might. He should have been honest with her from the beginning. And had waited far too long to tell her the truth once they got home.
But with the threats against Liam hitting them the second they’d walked in the door, and then being so exhausted by the time they’d finally been alone that first night... The next morning, waking up beside her, he couldn’t even think about taking the happiness from her gaze.
He’d screwed up. Bad.
Yet, each time he’d missed his opportunity to tell her the truth, he’d done so for the same reason. Because they loved each other so much. How did you knowingly hurt the one you loved?
He still didn’t know how.
