Page 76 of Deep Tide

“No.”

She took a sip. The previous sip was already hitting her, probably because she’d skipped dinner tonight. She set the mug down.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Someone doing what I was doing, maybe?”

“Which was?”

“Searching for something that would connect Amelia to the man who killed her.”

Emmet’s gaze narrowed. “I thought your current theory is that the tech bro from Seattle had something to do with it? Luc Gagnon?”

She’d shared her theory with Emmet while being careful not to reveal that the name had come from Sean Moran.

“I think he might have been dating her, but I doubt he actually killed her,” Nicole said. “If he’s involved, he probably hired someone to handle it.”

“And that’s who you think was at the apartment,” he stated. “A couple of hired goons.”

“Maybe.”

It sounded far-fetched when she said it out load. Nicole finished off the bourbon and set the mug in the sink.

Emmet eased closer. “Let me see.”

She gazed up at him, and the look he was giving her sent a warm ripple through her body. Or maybe it was the booze. Gingerly, she pulled up her shirttail, revealing an angry red bruise at the base of her rib cage. It was already turning dark in places.

He sucked in a breath and stroked a finger up her side. “Damn, Nicole.”

She tugged her shirt down.

“You sure they’re not broken?”

“I’m sure.”

She leaned against the counter, and Emmet held her gaze for a long moment.

“You should have called me,” he said.

“You’d left already. Anyway, it was a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

He eased closer, and the intensity in his eyes made her stomach flutter. He rested his hand on the counter beside her, and she still felt the burn of his fingertips on her skin. They stared at each other, and the moment seemed strange, even stranger than standing in that closet and realizing someone had just entered the apartment.

“Shit!” Emmet jumped back and looked down.

Nicole’s cat rubbed against her ankle, purring.

“Damn it, Lucifer.”

“It’s Lucy,” she said. “And she’s a sweetheart.”

Emmet scowled down at the skinny black feline that had once clawed him to pieces. The cat had been orphaned at a crime scene. When the local shelter couldn’t take her, Nicole had reluctantly become a cat owner.

“She eaten?” Emmet asked.

“No. I just got home.”

He stepped over to the utility closet and grabbed the plastic bin of cat food off the washer. He dug out a scoop and bent down to pour it into Lucy’s bowl—a movement that would have been agony for Nicole.

Lucy dashed over and knocked Emmet’s hand out of the way with her head.

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