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Deckard exhaled. “I hate to say this, but I think one of the inquiries Harp and I made struck a chord with someone. I keep all my files in my office.”
“We’ll need to go through things with a fine-tooth comb,” Greyson said. “Did you call Santa Fe PD?”
“Not yet. My mission was to get Harper and me to home base. I’ll call Gary at Santa Fe PD and let them know.”
“I’ll head to the office to meet them, scour through everything to note if something is missing or if I can tell what, specifically, they came for.”
“I’ll go with you,” Riley said.
“I can go,” Deck said. “You all enjoy dinner.”
Riley placed her hands on her hips. “You look like you got hit with a baseball bat. Both of you. Call Gary, give him your report, and let Greyson and me handle the office. Deal?”
It sounded like a question, but it wasn’t really. When Riley set her mind to something...
“Okay,” he said, then looked at Harper. “Let’s get that wound cleaned up.”
“I’ll leave the posole on the stove for when you’re done.” She glanced at Christian and Andi. “Help yourselves.”
“Thanks, Riley,” Christian said, “but are you sure you don’t—”
“We got this, and you’ve had enough excitement for one day.”
Deckard sighed. Wasn’t that the truth.
Ten minutes later, Harper sat on the double sink vanity, swinging her legs while Deckard fished out the supplies, laying each needed item out on the vanity beside her. He reached for the rubbing alcohol. “This is going to sting a little.”
“I’ll be okay, but thanks.”
He soaked a cotton ball with it, and with as much tenderness as he could, cleaned out her wound. Her hands flinched once, but otherwise she held still, nearly unaffected. She was one tough lady.
“I’ll put some Neosporin on it and then a bandage.”
“I appreciate it, but not sure a bandage is needed,” she said.
“I suppose you’re right.” It was more an impact injury than a big open wound.
“Your turn,” she said, hopping down and indicating for Deckard to hop up.
“I’m good, but thanks.”
She dipped her chin, her brows arching. “You have blood on the back of your neck. Let me at least clean that up.”
Arguing was pointless, and he had no desire to walk around with the now-dried blood on his person. He hopped up, and she reached for the rubbing alcohol.
“Okay, mister,” she said, “let’s shift you sideways.” She rested a hand on his thigh and pushed in indication for him to shift sideways.
He swallowed at the incredible feel of her touch, despite their current circumstances. The woman had a natural way of getting to him ... in a very good, but very dangerous way.
¦¦¦
Three hours later, Riley and Greyson returned.
“How’d it go?” Christian asked.
“The police came in and did a fingerprint sweep, but as you said, the intruders had gloves on, so none showed up on their fingerprint reader but ours,” Greyson said.
“Can you tell what they touched?” Deckard asked. “As I told the police, we heard them say not to move anything, just to look.”
