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“Believe what you want, but stay out of mine and Sophie’s business, will you?” He kept his voice low and tone light. “You’ve got enough of your own to worry about.”
“I suppose. Take care of her.” Helen hung up after that.
He didn’t need the reminder to keep Sophie safe. They’d continue to work together on the investigation, and while they did, he’d try to sort out his feelings for her. They were complex, different from ones he’d had in the past for women, and he wasn’t sure what that meant.
He stole a glance toward the bed. She hadn’t moved and her breathing was still even. He was headed for the shower when he heard a ding indicating an email from Sophie’s laptop. Normally, he wouldn’t read someone else’s email, but she’d asked him before to look at her work email when she’d had her hands full with something else. And he wanted to see if the message was urgent or could wait until she woke up.
The subject line caught his attention first. Interview Today A.M. It was marked with the highest importance—and it came from the drug lieutenant. Owen clicked open the message.
Willing to meet with you this morning. Last chance. You can bring your protection, but one threat from him and I’m outta there.
The message included a place and time. It was a picnic shelter in a park—and if they didn’t leave in the next ten minutes, he and Sophie wouldn’t get there by the time Razor had indicated. Which was no doubt intentional on the drug lieutenant’s part. Owen wouldn’t have time to get security in place or set up a trap. Reluctantly, he had to admit that it was a wise move on Razor’s part.
Owen hit a mental snag, a moment of hesitation. Now, more than ever, he wanted to keep Sophie safe from harm.
The meeting with the drug lieutenant was potentially dangerous, and he could keep her away from that by simply doing nothing. He could mark the message as unread, and she’d have no way of knowing that he’d ever seen it at all. She’d sleep past the meeting, safe in their bed.
But she’d hate herself for missing an opportunity like this. She wouldn’t blame him—not if she didn’t know he’d seen the email, but he knew without a doubt that she’d blame herself. He’d never met anyone who pushed herself harder, who cut herself so little slack. This story was so important to her, and she would be furious with herself for blowing a chance to get an important lead. And in the end, that was what motivated him to get up and walk across the room to the bed. He wanted her to get this story. It was important to her, vital even, and that meant something to him.
And it would mean they’d be one step closer to bringing Wilson down. Once they did that, Wilson would never be able to hurt Sophie or the other women again. Their city would be a safer place with a drug smuggler put away for good.
The meeting with the lieutenant might be risky, but he’d be there. Not just watching from a vantage point, but actually there by her side. He could keep her safe. And getting this interview could help her end the bigger danger against her, Helen, and Julia for good. That was worth anything.
* * *
“What is it?” She squinted up at Owen, who was standing over her and gently touching her shoulder. He’d pulled on boxer shorts but nothing else. This was her first visual of him that morning, and there was no denying it was an impressive one. But she wasn’t able to give it her full appreciation. Not when she’d been listening a few minutes ago when he spoke with Helen. She’d been awake, a little groggy from some sleep deprivation but awake enough to comprehend what he’d said—and she hadn’t liked what she heard.
“You got an email from the drug lieutenant,” he said. “Razor’s willing to meet this morning. We need to be on the road in ten minutes to make the rendezvous point. Can you be ready?”
Her heart jumped into her throat. “Yes.” She flung back the cover and got out of bed, racing across the room to the dresser.
Eight minutes later, they’d both had lightning-fast showers, brushed their teeth, and dressed. It was only when they were on the road that her thoughts turned back to exactly what he’d said to Helen. She shouldn’t be thinking of that now. She had the interview of her life coming up, and she tried to focus on what questions to ask.
She was going to be working old school with pen and paper since she didn’t expect that Razor would trust her to have any form of electronics recording him. Couldn’t blame him for being wary. She wrote down questions on a blank page and consulted her previous notes. What did she know about this guy? What would be the best angle? He was defensive and likely to end the interview with no notice if he thought she was going too far. Did that mean she should ease into it or lead with her toughest questions?
She didn’t know. The only thing she could do was wait and gauge his mannerisms when they met up. She was usually good at reading people, so she’d have to rely on that.
She glanced at Owen as he drove, trying to decide how to read him. His profile was strong. Everything about him was strong, and she’d loved the physical part of what they’d done in the night. The sex had been fantastic, off the charts good. She’d be riding high from that still if she hadn’t listened in. Part of her wished she’d stayed asleep longer.
“How early were you up this morning?” she asked, breaking the silence between them.
“Not long before you. Just enough to check in with Helen and Julia.”
“I assume they’re okay.” She’d seen the message that had been exchanged between them on her phone.
“Seem to be.” He glanced at her and gave her a slight smile before turning his attention back to the road.
She’d given him an opening. Apparently, he wasn’t going to mention the phone conversation that he’d had with Helen. He’d admitted to sleeping with Sophie but had given the impression that it was no big deal. Normally, sex wasn’t a big deal to her. When she had the itch, she found someone to help her scratch it with a casual hookup.
She knew what that felt like. What she’d shared with Owen had felt completely different. It had seemed like he’d been making love to her, like she was the most important woman in the world to him. And maybe she had been during those moments. He had admitted to Helen that he cared for her. But what did that mean exactly? “Care” was such a useless word since it could mean anything from devoted love to concern for a near stranger.
Maybe care was the only word Owen was comfortable using. She’d figured out that he deflected when it came to sensitive subjects. He smiled or joked, not because he was truly belittling the moment, but because he was reluctant to express himself in more depth. Was that why he’d used the word care?
She could just ask him. Be forthright and blunt with him. But what if he said that the night meant nothing to him? Or that they could be friends? That would be the worst.
She closed her notebook as they exited the highway, trying to gather all her focus for the upcoming interview. She had to be one hundred percent on her toes, which meant she couldn’t be distracted by playing the “what if” game about her relationship with Owen. Because that was a dangerous game. One that would probably lead to heartache.
But despite her efforts to push it away, the nagging fear that had formed in her stomach when she heard him talking to Helen stayed with her. The worry that she was the only one whose feelings had grown into something more than she’d expected.
