Page 80 of The Lieutenant

“Isn’t it?” I found a bowl and flipped open the lid on the ice cream. As I started to dig some out, I felt his eyes pinned on me. His entire body was tense, more so than mine was. I continued scooping out a few spoonfuls, finally snapping the top back into place. Instead of sitting down like he wanted, I placed the ice cream back in the freezer and stood in the corner where the counters met.

He half huffed and pulled out one of the barstools, sitting with his back against the island. He said nothing as I took a few bites, his eyes colder than I’d seen them since the beginning.

“So ask,” I finally said in between bites. The way he was staring at me was unnerving.

“Would you like to finish your dessert first?”

“This is actually dinner. Would you like a bite?”

“No, I don’t think I would.”

Unable to resist the temptation, I scooped out a bite, shifting the spoon toward him. “Take a bite. A lick.”

It was impossible to tell if I was pissing him off, but I couldn’t seem to help myself around him. He cocked his head, staring at me as if I’d lost my mind. That had already occurred. I moved the spoon closer. And closer. Finally, irritated by his stubbornness, I pressed the thick cream against his lips and started laughing.

I thought he was going to choke as he caught most before it dropped onto the counter. When he lifted his head, I expected to see anger, but he was smiling like some kid while licking his lips. The moment was sweet and meant more to me than it should. Guilt replaced the slight giddiness and I headed to the other side of the kitchen, grabbing a napkin.

The beautiful blip in time died seconds later as his smile turned into a scowl and he snatched the napkin from my hand.

“I’m not going to say I’m sorry,” I told him.

“I wouldn’t expect you would. That’s not your style.”

“What does that mean?’ He looked away and I pushed as usual. “Havros. What does that mean?”

He tossed the paper aside, acting as if the drift into frivolity hadn’t occurred. “Tell me about how your mother died.”

“What?” The question was gut-wrenching, like a sharp knife being driven into my heart. I had the spoon midair, ready to takeanother bite. I slowly lowered it, nausea taking over. “Why do you ask?”

“Because she died mysteriously with almost no mention of how in every scrap of documentation we’ve read.”

“We.”

“My brothers and I.”

“Oh.” I put the bowl on the counter, licking drops off my lips. There was no way of lying to him. Tears threatened to well in my eyes, but I refused them. “She was murdered.”

“While you were staying in Italy.”

“Yes.” The old sadness returned. So had the nervous tic I used to get on the side of my mouth. I pressed my fingers against it, praying the memories wouldn’t be so strong I started to cry.

“How?”

“Are you seriously asking me about the murder itself, as in the gruesome details?” Nothing he’d said should appall me, but he had to know how much the question hurt.

“Not the details, Kara. Just the basics. I’m not a monster.”

“That remains to be seen.” I threw my hand out, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair. Remembering is painful. My mother was going shopping. She had a driver who doubled as her security. They went to a couple locations. When they returned from one store, the moment the man started the engine, it blew up, killing both. Okay? Happy now? Or would you prefer to hear I was supposed to go with her, but I’d been a bad girl, slipping away from the compound to see a boy I’d met the night before and wasn’t allowed to join her.”

His eyes flashed. “That’s terrible, Kara. I’m very sorry.”

“Yes, it is and that was also a long time ago. Why did you ask? What does it matter now?” He was fishing far too close to the truth.

“Was the person responsible ever caught?”

I couldn’t believe he was going down this horrible trail. “No. Although my father insisted he knew who’d done it.”

He continued to stare at me, now saying nothing.

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