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“Hey, no should haves.” He tilted her chin toward him. “Remember our conversation? God is in charge, not you.”
“But God isn’t doing a very good job of keeping you safe!”
He stilled, his eyes dark with compassion. “I’m still alive, Raina, the bullet didn’t hit anything vital, and we’ve got a big fire going to keep us warm while we wait. I’d say he’s doing an exceptional job.”
Her jaw dropped at his assessment, then she snapped it shut. “I guess it’s all about perspective, isn’t it? My perspective is, he could just stop the whole thing and make everything better. Stop the bad stuff before it even starts.”
“If he did that, we wouldn’t get to see him work, would we? What good is faith if you have no opportunity to exercise it?”
Good point. “Maybe so, but I think this is a bit excessive.”
The roar of the boat engine caught her attention, and she noticed it skimming the water toward them. “They’re almost here.”
“Just as we almost got thawed out.”
“You have a real gift for exaggeration. How’s the arm?”
“Numb at the moment.”
“Let me take a look at it?”
“No. If you start poking around at it, it’s just going to start hurting. I’d rather just sit here and hold you for a bit.”
Raina started to protest, then thought better of it. She didn’t have any medical supplies, so what was the point in aggravating the injury? It obviously couldn’t be too bad.
She snuggled against him, deciding to share his gratitude that they were alive, with the opportunity to be warm just around the corner. Because while the fire was nice, the wet clothes were not. Nor was the fact that a killer was out there most likely planning his next attack. “I hate being cold,” she muttered. He chuckled and kissed the top of her head. She looked up. “But there’s no one I’d rather be cold with.”
This time his lips grazed hers just as the boat arrived and it was time to go.
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
Simon disconnected the call with a one-finger punch to the screen, longing for the days when he could actually slam the receiver down. He settled for tossing the burner phone on his desk with harder than necessary force.
“Dad?” He looked up to see Christopher standing in the door, brow raised. “Bad news?”
“Something like that.” Simon forced a smile with a shrug. “Just business. I’ll get it sorted out later.” He stood and walked toward his son. “Come on in the kitchen. I want some ice cream.”
“Ice cream, eh? Must be serious.”
Once they had the two bowls filled to overflowing, Simon looked up. “Where’s Leslie?”
“She’s meeting some friends for a girls’ day out thing. And I have the night off.” Christopher shoveled a spoonful of the sweet coldness into his mouth and grinned. Simon shook his head and grinned back. For a nanosecond. The weight of his worries was too great to hold the expression any longer.
“What’s going on, Dad?” Christopher asked.
Simon looked at his son and debated whether or not to sayanything. Then he sighed. “That phone call that irritated me was my private investigator, who let me know that Daphne’s father is snooping around into Keith’s background.”
Christopher pushed his ice cream bowl away. “Does it matter? There’s nothing for him to find.”
“I don’t know. And that’s the problem. I just don’t know.”
“And how does your PI know that anyway? That Daphne’s father has someone looking into Keith?”
“We have our ways.”
“You bugged his office?”
