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He tugged her close again, bumping their hips together. “We are. I have a plan. Trust me, okay?”
“I do.” She pushed a lock of hair out of his eyes. While hers had been shorn off, his had gotten longer. “I’m just afraid of the snakes lying in wait.”
“I can, and will, handle them.”
“Did you find something in those reports?”
“Not sure. I have to do some fishing.”
She wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that.
“Cal and Beatrice have a house not far from here,” he told her. “It’s now my official residence, so if any of those snakes come crawling out of their hiding places looking for me, I’m going to be waiting for them.”
Any truth is better than indefinite doubt. Another Sherlock saying Vivi had often embraced. Yet… Her body temperature dropped ten degrees. “Ian, that’s incredibly—”
“Stupid?”
The world felt like an earthquake under her feet. “You’re one of the most intelligent, capable people I know. I was going to say ‘dangerous.’” She paced to the window. “It’s also incredibly smart.” She whirled to face him. “I’m going to be there with you.”
“No—”
Stalking toward him, she pointed a finger at his face. “Don’t even think I’m letting you do this on your own.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw, then he quirked his lips. “So we’re playing house?”
They were playing much more than that. “Go get my package. I have some folks to help before we catch those snakes.”
Fourteen
Afew hours later, Rory was in his usual spot when Vivi arrived with Dr. Thorpe’s workout list in hand.
She made a face as she stepped off the elevator, and pursed her lips as she walked to the computer station he’d assigned her.
She set the paper on the desk. “What do you have for me today?”
He wheeled over and, nosy fellow that he was, glanced at the list. “Keep on cross-checking the numbers I gave you yesterday with the records from 12 September’s file. We still need to find the connection between their movements and those bank deposits in the Cayman account.”
She flopped into the chair, waking up the computer. She didn’t have time for this, but he was now a patient, even though he didn’t realize it. “On it.”
“What’s this?” he asked, pointing at the therapist’s handwriting.
Entering her password, she threw her husband under the bus. She’d explain it to him later. “Ian thinks I need conditioning.”
A grunt. “Does he now?”
“He’s not wrong. Six months in prison and ten pounds of lost weight have made me weak. I’m not much of an exerciser though, and he’s so…buff. Virile. He can lift staggering amounts of weight, has freaky roadrunner speed, and, well, you know. SEALs.” She rolled her eyes. “I might need you to kill me before four o’clock. He’s going to kick my ass, and I’m going to totally embarrass myself. I don’t even know what half of those things are.”
Rory punched her shoulder playfully. “There’s an easy fix, you know.”
She glanced over with hope in her eyes. “What?”
“Just say no.”
Her shoulders deflated and she focused on the screen again. “Easy for you to say. No offense, but I don’t have an easy excuse like you not to show up. I mean, he’s right—it’s not only my brain that’s a wasteland right now. I have no strength, no stamina. I’m a wreck from head to toe.”
Rory rolled off toward his desk. “I’ve seen a helluva lot worse, Doc. Don’t beat yourself up.”
She let it rest for a while, working on the project he’d given her, getting him coffee, as part of their pact, and occasionally making a production out of reading the list. “What’s a leg curl?” she called over her monitor.
