Page 133 of Silent Vendetta (Vendetta Duet)

Flirting was as uncomfortable to witness as seeing a stranger change a baby’s crap-filled diaper.

Oblivious to Rinaldi’s clear annoyance, the nurse’s eyes lingered on Grayson a tad too long before she finally turned to me.

“I need to check your dressing,” she said. “The nurse in recovery is worried about discharge.”

The nurse looked at Detective Rinaldi and motioned toward the door. “This will only take a few minutes.”

Rinaldi shifted her weight from one foot to the other, eyes narrowing. Her face was a mask of annoyance as she watched the nurse bat her eyelashes in Grayson’s direction.

“Can this wait?” Rinaldi asked her.

“It won’t take long,” the nurse said, leaving no room for an argument.

I’m going to buy this nurse a Lexus when this is over.

Rinaldi’s jaw tensed as she scratched her temple, but after a long hesitation, she reluctantly stepped out of the room.

The nurse locked eyes with Grayson again, her lips curled up into a playful smile.

“This won’t take long,” she said.

Grayson crossed his arms over his chest and stepped toward her. “Would it be all right if I stayed? I’m family.”

If I wasn’t so desperate to talk to him alone, I’d call him out for playing into her attraction.

“Is it okay if he stays, Mr. Lockwood?” she asked. Not looking at me—looking at my damn brother.

The hope in her voice that Grayson could stay would be amusing if we weren’t in such a pickle.

“Actually, if you could give me a minute,” I said. “I need to talk to my brother.”

“I don’t want her to leave,” Grayson said seductively. Making the nurse’s feet—I kid you not—roll up onto their balls.

I had never seen Grayson flirt before. It was like watching something on the animal planet—foreign and jarring.

“But I do need to talk to him for a moment,” Grayson added. “Could you give us privacy for two minutes?” He glanced at the bathroom door, then back to the nurse before leaning over and whispering something into her ear.

She closed her eyes, appearing to savor his hot breath. But after a second, she wrinkled her forehead.

“I’m so sorry,” she said to him.

He whispered something else.

She nodded, locked lust-struck eyes with him.

“I’ll be in there.” She touched his arm. “Take as long as you need. I’ll check his bandage when you’re done.”

The nurse went into the room’s bathroom, shut the door, and turned the sink on, presumably to give us some privacy.

Without risking Rinaldi coming back in. Not that the nurse knew that.

“What did you say to her?” I asked.

Grayson sat on the edge of my bed, which tilted from his weight, and kept his voice low enough where anyone trying to eavesdrop outside the door, or inside the bathroom, couldn’t hear our conversation over the running water.

“That in the struggle of defending yourself, Alexander died. That you didn’t know yet, and I wanted to be the one to tell you, not the detective.”

Grayson leaned closer.

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