Page 125 of Mistletoe and Malice
Colton’s body heated from the inside out, his blood boiling as it raced through his veins. Yes, definitely a good thing he wasn’t standing in that room.
Can’t blame a guy for trying? Oh, yes, he could. He most certainly could.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Colton handed Riley a cup of hot chocolate and sat next to her on the couch in front of his fireplace. Stretching his arm around her, he pulled her close to his side. “Get enough sleep today?”
“The most sound sleep I’ve had since November ninth. Except for the anesthesia.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“What about you? A couple of hours before I got here couldn’t have been enough. Not when you went straight to the station after the party.”
“It’ll get me through for another few hours. There was no way I was wasting your first night of freedom sleeping.”
She giggled. “Driving my car over here was weird. Feels so teeny after the SUV. I’m considering trading it for something bigger.”
“I wish you would. The thought of you in that minuscule car in Houston traffic doesn’t thrill me.”
“Let’s go car shopping this weekend, then.”
“It’s a date.” He tipped his head and kissed her, regretting he hadn’t put his mug down first to wrap her in his arms. Then again, it was probably good to have a barrier. Kissing her ignited a fire in him he had to work to control.
But he would. Until the day she wore his name, if he should be so blessed.
He pulled back and grinned at her. “The first of many.”
“Oh, I certainly hope so.” Leaning in, she pressed her mouth to his again, letting the kiss linger while flames crackled in the fireplace.
She pulled away and laid her head against his shoulder. “Did Warren say anything about how he got photos of us when we had no idea he was there? Or how he got into the Thanksgiving dinner?”
He nodded. “Turns out he’s a pretty good amateur photographer. Has a long-range lens. Said he took them either from down the block or from his vehicle. And he did pose as an amputee for the homeless shelter dinner. Trevor was livid when I told him that. Couldn’t believe he had Everett right in front of him and missed it.”
“Not his fault. The guy’s a master of disguise.”
“Exactly what I told him. Still, he didn’t take it well.”
“And what about the girl?”
“Everett’s girlfriend? She’ll be fine. Physically. No telling what the psychological scars might be, though.”
“What set him off? Was she able to say?”
He set his cup down on the coffee table. “Asked the wrong questions at the wrong time and paid the price.”
“She’s the real hero of all of this.” She raised her head from his shoulder to take a sip of her cocoa. “I should go see her. To thank her. We might not have known he was there if she hadn’t tried so hard to get the message to the hospital staff.”
“Makes me crazy. Even with all our safeguards, he got through.”
“Weren’t they checking the staff for weapons?”
“Checked bags and coats, light pat-downs. He planted it in a ceiling tile in the men’s restroom before reporting for work. We couldn’t locate him anywhere right after we got the tip, then he was suddenly on the floor heading toward you. He went to retrieve the gun and planned to take you out during all the hoopla at midnight. Had somehow obtained a silencer. Probably because of the mess he made at the Christmas ballnotusing one. Figured he could get a shot off without anybody being the wiser until after the deed, and he would already be lost in the crowd.”
She shuddered and pressed in closer. “That whole thing had to be God. Her friend dropping by and finding her, being coherent enough to get some information out, and the ER staff taking it seriously enough to call the police. All within minutes of him carrying out his plan.”
“Most definitely a divine hand in all of that. We’re re-evaluating how we handle IDs on ops like this one. The cop monitoring the waitstaff glanced right over him when he checked the DL. And why wouldn’t he? Everett came in looking like Drummond, and there was no visible weapon on him. Even covered the scars left by your fingernails with liquid latex, like they use in the theater. Nobody would know without touching it. Another well-thought-out plan. He’s not a stupid guy. Thorough. Analytical. It’s too bad he didn’t use his smarts like Shane did and make something of himself.”
She lifted her head. “His mom’s influence, you think? Shane said she was a piece of work.”
