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Then again, she had zillions of bull’s-eye hits to her credit. Proof that practice did indeed make perfect.
Grabbing the computer, he headed for the sofa. He did more searches on social media, then set it aside. A wave of fatigue washed over him. He doused the lights, removed his utility belt and gun, then stretched out on the too-small sofa.
There was no logical reason for him not to use the perfectly good bed in the second room. Only the impossible to ignore need to stay close to Harper.
He dozed, coming abruptly awake at the sound of movement. After listening for a moment, he relaxed, realizing the sound was coming from her room.
It must be a bummer to have a baby pressing on your bladder, he thought, as he shifted into a more comfortable position.
The next thing he knew the early light of dawn filtered through the windows. He groaned as he rolled off the sofa, his body still sore from the cramped position.
After a quick shower in his bathroom, he donned his uniform, replaced his belt and holster, then padded toward the coffee maker, frowning when he realized they were almost out of coffee. There was only one cup left, aside from the decaf he’d offered to make for Harper.
Nope. Decaf wasn’t going to cut it. Not when they were facing a brutal gunrunner in a few hours. With a sigh, he made a call to room service to ask for more. As far as he was concerned, he wasn’t giving up this location anytime soon.
He sent a quick text to Brock, making sure his teammate would be at the hotel in a timely manner. Brock agreed to show up by nine.
Hearing movement from Harper’s room, he glanced up in time to see her stepping through the doorway. As always, the sight of her stole his breath. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, her green eyes bright. He had the strongest urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her again. One taste had only left him wanting more.
Since when did he find pregnant women attractive?
Since never.
Until Harper.
Man, he was in trouble. Big, big trouble.
“Good morning,” she greeted him with a warm smile.
“Good morning.” He did his best to mask his thoughts. Professional. He needed to view her as a victim. “Ah, do you want me to make a pot of decaf? That’s all we have left until room service shows up with a fresh pot.”
“Sure, thanks.” She glanced at the sofa cushions that were in disarray with a frown. “You slept on the couch again?”
“Yeah. It’s not so bad.” He busied himself with making the coffee. “I’d like to get to the precinct early, but we have plenty of time for breakfast.”
“It seems like all I’m doing is eating,” she said with a frown. “I’m not used to such large meals.”
He was worried she wasn’t eating enough. Didn’t pregnant women burn more calories doing everyday things? He felt certain he’d heard Rhy mention that at one point when his wife was pregnant. And why was he obsessing over it? “Would you rather pick up something along the way?”
“Yeah, maybe.” She shifted from one foot to the other. “I’m feeling blah this morning.”
“Would you like to cancel the meeting?”
“No!” Her tone didn’t leave room for argument. “I’m just tired or something. Maybe the stress is wearing on me.”
He wished he could assure her that it would all be over soon, but that wasn’t likely. “Sit down, Harper. Enjoy your decaf coffee.” He handed her a cup doctored with cream the way she liked, grateful when she sat at the table. “Have you thought about what you’ll say to your ex?”
“That’s all I’ve thought about,” she admitted. Then she tipped her head to the side. “Are you going to interview him too?”
“Probably.” He’d ask as many questions as the ATF agents would allow. Feldman was in their custody, not his. Although he wished more than once he could get his hands on the guy. Not least of all for hurting Harper.
“Do you think he knows Ellis is dead?”
He shrugged. When he’d discussed the plan with Rhy, the ATF agents had made it clear they hadn’t told Feldman anything about Starkey’s murder. “I guess that depends on whether he had anything to do with it. He’s in protective custody, which means he’s not supposed to have access to a phone or a computer. If the ATF agents are keeping a close eye on him, then the news should be a surprise. If not and he somehow got word out to silence the guy...” He spread his hands. “Anything is possible.”
“Yeah. That’s what I think too.” She sipped the coffee. “It’s difficult to comprehend he could be so callous as to kill his best friend. But obviously, I don’t know anything about the real Jake Feldman.”
He nodded. “I get that.”
