Page 20 of Blood Bearon
The cracked and faded red leather hissed loudly as she sat, only tapering off after she’d sunk almost entirely through the so-called padding. Khove eased his way in across from her, the fabric doing the same song and dance with him.
“Classy establishment, Detective,” Khove said, picking at the laminate peeling from the tabletop.
“You never said otherwise. Besides, they do the best hash browns here. Todiefor. Trust me, it’s good food, which is what matters most.”
The giant shrugged, the bench groaning with the motion. “If you say so.”
She nodded and sat back in her seat, ready and waiting for Khove to tell her everything he knew about the crimes and the mastermind behind them. Including why, if they knew who it was, they hadn’t told anyone until now.
“First off, I want to make sure you know I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “As long as you’re letting me know now, it’s not really that big a deal.”
Khove shook his head. “No, I meant for last night. For leaving you. I should have told you what I was doing, you’re right. That was not cool. I’m just used to working with a team that knows each other inside and out, who operate under somewhat different rules. I didn’t factor in that you and I had never worked together before. It’s my fault.”
“Oh. Right. Last night. Yeah, it’s okay, just don’t do it again, okay?”
“I won’t.” He tapped the table softly. “I didn’t realize it would bother you so much that I went off on my own.”
Rachel averted her gaze. “Yeah. I should have handled it better,” she said tightly, sighing at the same time. “It’s been a long time since I worked with someone else.”
“I understand,” Khove said gently.
“Ever since I came to Plymouth Falls,” she said in a sudden bout of chattiness. “Before, actually. Over two years that I’ve worked alone. I—” Blinking, she stopped suddenly, wondering at the uncharacteristic loquaciousness about her past. Why did she think telling him was a good idea?
I barely know him. Get it together, Corningstone. Lose a few hours’ sleep for the first time in ages and suddenly you’re falling apart at the seams? Going soft with the country life.
Khove opened his mouth to speak, and Rachel frantically thought of a way to change the subject, to prevent him from asking what she’d been about to say. Fate decided to intervene, and the door to the diner opened behind her, stealing Khove’s attention.
Glancing out of the corner of her eye, she saw it was another officer. Turning farther, she caught a glimpse of who, and tried to stifle a groan. What washedoing here? Immediately, she turned back to the menu on the table in front of her, paying it extra attention, although she knew exactly what she was going to order.
“Do you know them?” Khove asked gently, leaning forward, his voice low.
She looked up, meeting his eyes, watching as the cold steel circles darted over to where the other officer was sitting, and then back to her.
“It’s a small department, everyone knows everyone,” she admitted. “Why?”
The big man shrugged. “It’s just that he keeps looking over here at you. Do you want to invite him to join?”
“No!” she hissed just a little too forcefully. “No, please don’t.”
Khove frowned. “Why not?”
“Because,” she said. “That’s Marc Gomez. And he’s not looking at me.”
“What is he doing then? Cause it looks like it to me.”
Rachel sank down lower into her side of the booth. “He’s checking me out,” she said tiredly. Grumpily.
The table suddenly cracked.
Khove’s face had gone tight, and she watched as he carefully set the corner of the table he’d accidentally broken off down on the booth next to him, forcing his grip to relax.
“Are you with him?” he asked tightly.
“What?” she asked, needing to hear the question again, too preoccupied with the sudden showing of anger. “No, of course not. I’d never date someone from the office. That’s just asking for trouble.”
Although he was done breaking the table, she could see the black long-sleeved shirt he wore struggling to contain muscles as he worked to contain himself. What the hell had gotten into Khove all of a sudden?
