Page 36 of Delivering David

But it was his eyes that kept Suzanne’s gaze fixed on the photo. Eyes without expression. “It’s like staring into nothing,” she murmured.

“It is,” Kristopher agreed. “He is without a doubt, the scariest human being I’ve ever had dealings with though we’ve never met face-to-face. As far as I know, he’s never seen me.”

“And that’s the one who put a price on your head?”

“It is.”

“Is his head tattooed?” Suzanne continued to stare at the screen.

“Should be,” Kristopher said. “Getting your head tattooed is part of Balaur’s initiation rite, which suggests that Stan is either a new member or his claim about his hair not growing is true.”

“Amazing,” she murmured. “So much has happened since early Friday morning. I feel like I’m on a roller coaster that barely stops long enough for me to catch my breath.”

“You okay there, Miz Bennett?”

“Am I helping in all of this?” Something like guilt rose in her eyes. “Or am I only adding to the mess?”

Kristopher stared at her in disbelief. “What are you talking about? Why would you think you weren’t helping?”

“My parents always said I wasn’t good enough at things or I didn’t try hard enough,” she said, sadness creeping into her voice. “They said if I did better in school–and I got straight A’s by the way–they could have stayed sober and kept me out of foster care. I mean, is any of this mess my fault? Mercy being killed or David vanishing or me hiring a suspected child trafficker–”

“Hold up there,” Kristopher ordered. “None of this is your fault that your parents became alcoholics, understand? And it’s a damn shame they couldn’t get their shit together to see what an awesome woman you turned out to be. There’s nothing you could have done at age eight for them to become alcoholics or addicts or whatever their choice of poison was. That’s their denial talking, and you shouldn’t have had to tap-dance through your childhood to keep them sober.”

She lowered her head, and his heart twisted as tears began to slide down her cheeks. She turned away but he gently pulled her into his arms. “Let it go, Miz Bennet,” he whispered, brushing his lips against her hair. “Just let it go.”

She cried for a long time, harder than he’d seen before and he guessed it was not just the memory of her parents but everything that had happened since Thursday night and losing Mercy. Recalling Elaine’s silence when she’d cried on Friday–he kept his peace and let her cry.

She finally stopped and pulled a handkerchief from her jean pocket. “I think this is yours,” she sniffed against its folds.

“Got plenty more,” he promised. “Feel better?”

“Yeah,” she said ruefully, putting away the handkerchief. “Let’s put away these cups before Bailey comes back. We can do more research at the safehouse.”

“Okay.” She smiled. “You make good coffee.”

“Ah, shucks, Miz Bennett,” he teased as he followed her to the small kitchen. “I’ll bet you say that to all the boys.”

“I don’t know many boys like you,” she said as they rinsed and put away the cups. “I guess that old saying is true. You know, the one about good things.”

“I hope you’re not going to say something about small packages,” he said. “I’m not as tall as some of my Brotherhood Protectors, but I stand six feet in my socks so I wouldn’t call that short.”

“I was thinking of ‘good things come to those who wait’.” She tilted her head back to look up at him. “It’s been a long time since I’ve met someone as nice as you. Glad it turned out to be you.”

“Me too,” and he leaned in for a long, slow kiss. It grew in intensity as a raw desire slammed through Kristopher and he wanted nothing more than to join himself with this brave and stubborn woman who’s desire for justice had brought them together.

But then, like clockwork, his phone sounded. With a muffled curse, he took it out and sighed. “Bailey is downstairs,” he reported. “We better go.”

“You know,” she said after they’d gathered up their things and headed for the elevator. “One day, we’re going to have to silence our phones and see where these kisses take us.”

And stepping into the elevator with her, Kristopher found he had no reply.

CHAPTER 25

Early Sunday Evening

“Simply brilliant, holding the meeting here,”the man in the blue suit declared. “In a church! Pretending we’re a widower’s support group!”

“It was quite simple,” Samuels told the group. “My great-grandmother’s family helped found this church and the family has contributed huge sums of money for years. They know I have a counselor’s background, and needed a safe place for grieving men that would provide privacy. They even offered it for free.”

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