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“You sure Lee isn’t gonna come back?”
I didn’t want to be caught in Lee’s condo when Lee didn’t know I was here. I hadn’t been somewhat successfully avoiding him for ten years only to be found in his condo in the middle of the night, harboring a possible felon who had bad people after him. There was a good possibility Lee would frown on that.
“He’s in DC,” Ally replied. “I think you should take his bed.” Her eyes got big and happy when she said this, and I sighed and rested my shoulder against the wall.
“Maybe you should call him,” I suggested.
“He doesn’t like to be disturbed when he’s out of town on business. Only in emergencies.”
“This might be considered an emergency,” I explained unnecessarily, as I’d called her only twenty minutes ago, hyperventilating and telling her someone had shot at me and Rosie and we needed a safe house. Such things didn’t happen every day. In fact, theyneverhappened, at least not to me.
Ally looked through the open plan kitchen to Rosie, who’d turned on the TV and was watching the Food Network.
“What bag is he talking about?” Ally whispered.
“I’ll explain it later. Just call Lee and warn him that we’re here, just in case.”
Ally swung her eyes back to me. “Was a time when you’d live for that kind of ‘just in case.’”
“I’ve told you, that time’s long gone.”
Ally studied me. She’d heard this for ten years and still didn’t believe it, the silly, stubborn bimbo.
“Right. I’ll call him. Still, I think if he was gonna come home, he’d rather come home to find you in his bed than Rosie.”
“I’ll sleep in the guest room.”
“Girl,” Ally smiled, “Lee doesn’t have a guest room. That second bedroom is locked up tight and no one gets into that room. Hank and I call it the Command Center, but no one knows what’s in there.”
I turned to look at the three closed doors that opened off the hall, and when I turned back Ally had the front door open.
“Later.” Then she was gone.
I grabbed the door and watched her sashay down the hall.
“Call him!” I shouted.
She gave me the peace sign and got on the elevator.
“She’s not gonna call him,” I said to the empty hallway.
* * *
Ally was right.
I did a wee bit of snooping (as you do). Two doors in Lee’s hall opened, one to the bathroom and one to Lee’s bedroom. The other one was locked up tight. I even walked along the wraparound balcony to check if I could see in, but the French doors to the second bedroom had curtains and those curtains were firmly closed.
After what seemed like a lifetime of Food Network, I found Rosie a pillow and blanket and crawled, bleary-eyed and still a little scared (not only at the night’s events but at our accommodation), into Lee’s big bed.
I considered sleeping on the floor, but I was too tired, and anyway, Lee was busy these days and never in Denver unless it was someone’s birthday, a holiday or a weekend the Broncos were playing at home. I’d heard Kitty Sue lamenting that fact so often, if I had a dime for every time she said it, I’d be rich.
I’d taken off my jeans, boots, socks, and bra and found a wife beater T-shirt of Lee’s, luckily in the first drawer I opened. I didn’t want to be rifling through Lee’s drawers. He might not like it.
I had to borrow Lee’s tee because I was wearing my Guns N’ Roses shirt that had rhinestones stitched in and they would snag at the sheets. Not to mention it was one of my favorites and I didn’t want it to get misshapen while I slept.
I was not a light sleeper. I slept deep and I moved around a lot, as ina lot. I moved around so much that most of my boyfriends eventually opted for the couch, usually right before they opted for the door. I tried to sleep in attire that would not get me into trouble during my nocturnal twisting and turning, which usually meant I slept in underpants and nothing else. However, the thought of sleeping in Lee’s bed nearly naked was simply not to be entertained.
I tried not to think of crawling into Lee’s bed at all. It was just a bed. So it was Liam Nightingale’s bed. So it kinda smelled like him, like leather and tobacco and spice. So what?
