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“Do I really need to repeat that?” I turned my attention out the window at the open spaces zooming by the truck. “I wanted to reach across that desk and wipe that fucking smarmy look off his face with a fist.”
“Did they find any evidence?”
“Doubt it.” I replied. “Apparently, his bright idea being that I tortured Ms. Cross for her to tell me who came to pick up my daughter. Can you believe that shit?”
“They have nothing.” Kokou told me. “That’s what cops callfishing.That interview was to squeeze you, hoping you’d drop your guard and say something incriminating.”
“Well, he can kiss my entire ass.”
Kokou chuckled.
“It’s not funny—shit, my head hurts.”
“We’re almost back at the house.” Kokou promised. “Once we get there, you can take a pill and lay down. I have some information from Swede to go through. I can do that while you nap.”
“I can’t nap.” I explained. “I have to start getting my ducks in a row for not going back to hockey.”
“You’re quitting because of a crazy fan?” She wanted to know. “I thought you love hockey.”
“I do. But I’m too old for this shit. And besides.” I sighed, closed my eyes and lowered my head back to the headrest. “I’m almost forty. How long do you think my body will hold out in this sport?”
“Almost forty? Dang.”
“Too old for you, Kokou?”
She made an amused sound in the back of her throat. “That’s not what I was thinking. You don’t look it, is all.”
I chuckled. “There are many other reasons why I should move on. I don’t trust the players on my team. A lot of them blame me for our loss and I can’t have that in the back of my mind when I’m on the ice with them.”
“I really don’t get this obsession people have with sports and athletes.” Kokou admitted while pulling into the front yard at the ranch house. “They seem to forget that these players are human beings and mistakes happen.”
I reached across to pat her shoulder.
“Are you still mad at me?” Kokou asked.
“I’m not—I wasn’t mad at you. Frustrated was more like it.”
“Are you still frustrated with me?”
“Are you always this big of a smart-ass?”
“I admit nothing.” She climbed from the truck, and I followed her into the house. “Sit. Let me see what you have for headaches in the cabinet.”
I was in too much pain to try stopping her.
But two hours later, I was still hurting. Even after she turned off all the lights, drew the blackout curtains in place and turned off the power on my stereo system to kill all the light.
Kokou knelt beside me at the sofa and smoothed some hair off my forehead. She tried massaging my temples and while it felt good, the pulse didn’t slow.
Groaning, I closed my eyes and exhaled softly. I allowed the sofa to hold my body, to push the tired that I’d been holding in my shoulders to float down my spine and vibrate from me into the surface under my back.
I tried not focusing on her hands on me because that seemed to only make my heartbeat faster, sending blood to all the wrong parts of my body.
She smelled so good—how was that even possible after being out and about? Her scent always riled and soothed me, and I wasn’t sure how that was a thing? How was my body capable of feeling both those things at the same time?
The softness of her mouth descended on mine.
I gasped, my eyes snapped opened and I tried pushing my back down through the couch.
