Page 38 of Buried Too Deep

“I don’t want to wake her up,” Phin said quietly. “She was so tired.” He realized too late how that sounded and wished the words back, but of course that was useless.

Burke gave him a sharp look, one that said he’d noticed that Phin was extra attentive to Cora Winslow and would be addressing it later.

Great.

Antoine didn’t seem to notice. “Not having the password might be better. I really want to know how easy it would have been for the intruder to hack into her machine.”

“Go see if you can break in, Antoine,” Burke said. “I’ll take the heat if she’s mad about it. Also see if her phone’s infected.”

Antoine stood and closed his three laptops, leaving them on the table. “I’ll be back. Are we eating soon?”

Burke snorted. “Yes, Antoine. We will feed you. Molly’s bringing food.”

Antoine did a smooth little dance. “Food from my favorite restaurant. Awesome.”

Molly’s fiancé owned Le Petit Choux, a restaurant in the Quarter. The food truly was awesome. Phin’s stomach growled on cue.

Antoine smirked. “I’m not the only hungry one. Text me when the food’s here. I’m going up to check her computer.”

Burke turned back to Phin. “So, now that you’re back, my furnace is making a racket.”

Phin laughed, the request making him feel better than all of Burke’s prettier words. “I’ll take a look at it as soon as I can.”

The Garden District, New Orleans, Louisiana

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 13, 7:20 P.M.

Cora blinked awake. It was dark outside and she’d fallen asleep on the sofa again. With a sigh she started to get up, then froze.

Voices. In her kitchen. Then one familiar voice cut through the fog in her brain.

“Then what were they looking for?” Phin asked.

Phin Bishop was still here and he apparently was not alone.

She stood and started for the kitchen, the cold floor feeling good against her swollen feet.

Blue was no longer asleep on the rug in front of the gas fireplace, which someone had thoughtfully turned on to chase away the December chill.

Probably Phin. Seemed like something he’d do.

Avoiding the mirror next to the front door—because she was sure that she looked a fright—she made her way into the kitchen, stopping in the doorway to study the group at her table. Burke Broussard sat at the head, where her grandmother had always sat. On his right was a medium-height blonde, her hair pulled into a sensible bun.

The blonde looked crisp and put-together, making Cora hyperaware of the fact that she’d slept in her clothes, which did not smell too fresh. She needed to shower and change.

On Burke’s left was Antoine, the computer guy, and to Cora’s surprise, he had the computer from her home office set up on the table in front of him, monitor and all. And it was on. He’d somehow bypassed her password protection. Annoyance welled up within her. How the hell had he done that? What had given him the right?

The words were on the tip of her tongue when she noticed the man half sticking out of the cabinet beneath her kitchen sink. Phin. He was wearing an honest-to-God tool belt, his jeans straining over his ass, and…

Well. That was a pleasant sight. And not what she should be distracted by right now.

Blinking, she refocused on the three people sitting at her table. Burke’s gaze was fixed on his phone. The blonde, however, was regarding her with polite amusement and Cora knew she’d been busted staring at Phin Bishop’s ass.

No problem. She could handle this. She was a Winslow, after all.

Channeling her grandmother, she smiled placidly. “Good evening.”

Burke looked up and Antoine turned around in his chair, the two men studying her.

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