“That can’t be helped,” I respond curtly, sliding out of the booth.
Three days since he laid that kiss on me and it’s as if it never happened. He’s been surly, and I’ve been annoyed as hell myself. The latter mostly because I let my guard down.
That kiss, relatively chaste as it was, sure packed a punch. One that had me forgetting all the reasons why kissing Mitch was not a good idea. Although, technically it was him who kissed me, so why he’s acting all bent out of shape now is beyond me.
Oh hell, who am I kidding?
Sure, I’m upset with myself for indulging, but only because Mitch now looks at me like dirt under his damn shoe.
My ass is butt-hurt.
The sun has started to set when I step outside. There’s a definite chill in the air tonight and I pull my light jacket tight. My eyes fall on the small neighborhood deli across the street. On one of my first nights in Lanark, I went in for a quick sandwich and saw they also offered soups and stews.
With the temperatures dropping outside, I’m really craving a hearty bowl of goulash or something. Comfort food. Lord knows I could do with some of that as well.
“Can I help you?”
The pleasant, gray-haired woman behind the counter speaks with what I’m guessing is an Eastern European accent.
“Yes, could I have a bowl of goulash? For takeout?”
“I’ll have the same.”
My shoulders tense when I hear Mitch’s deep voice rumble behind me.
Dammit, of course he had to follow me inside.
I don’t bother arguing when he takes over, ordering a couple of sandwiches and drinks as well. To my annoyance, he tells her everything can go in one bag and whips out his wallet to pay for it all.
I don’t want to create a scene in front of the woman, so I save my comments for when we get outside.
“I don’t recall inviting you,” I snap over my shoulder as I start crossing the street.
Of course, he’s only two steps behind me.
“We need to talk. We may as well do it over dinner,” he responds curtly.
“Nothing to talk about.”
“There’s plenty,” he promises ominously.
I get the sense he’s not only referring to things work related.
Great.
When we get to my room, I walk inside, leaving the door open for him to sort himself out while I duck into the bathroom, needing a few minutes to compose myself before I face whatever he feels he needs to discuss.
I walk out a few minutes later, having quickly changed out of my stuffy, uncomfortable ‘work’ clothes and into yoga pants and a long-sleeved shirt, my itchy wig discarded on the bathroom counter. Mitch is already sitting at the table getting a head start on dinner and, apparently, took the liberty to grab cutlery and plates from my dresser drawer. Sucking back the snide remark that wants out, I sit down across from him and start eating as well, trying to enjoy the spicy stew.
“When you talk to the girl, I want you to at least go in miked up,” he finally says, shoving his empty bowl to the middle of the table.
I lower my spoon as I lift my gaze.
“Please,” he adds with a look in his eyes I can’t quite place.
“Or…you could simply trust I know what I’m doing,” I suggest with a healthy dose of sarcasm.
“Trust has nothing to do with it.”
“Oh, really? Would you tell Matt, or anyone else on your team, the same thing?” I ask indignantly. “I would think my training and years of experience should give me at least some credibility.”
“Fucking A, I would. With this case especially. It has nothing to do with your training and everything to do with the fact we’re working on mostly theory here. Kendrick clearly has connections in high places, so anything concrete we can get—any information we turn up, any witness statements we collect—it all needs to be watertight. Otherwise, this guy could slip through our fingers like that.”
He snaps his own fingers for emphasis.
Damn. I hate he’s being reasonable.
“Fine. If Sally can arrange something with her, I’ll wear a wire, but I don’t need anyone yammering in my ear,” I concede ungraciously.
Then I bend back down over my stew, trying to hide my flushed face. Evidence of my embarrassment at behaving like a petulant child.
“Kate…”
“What?”
“There’s something else we need to discuss.”
I know in my gut what is coming and lower the spoon I had halfway to my mouth, mentally bracing myself.
“That kiss. It was a mistake.”
Ouch.
I figured he had some serious regrets, but to hear him say it out loud stings unexpectedly. Not that I’d give him the satisfaction of knowing how his words sting.
“Trust me, I’m well aware,” I return defensively, looking up at him with my chin in the air.
For a brief moment his eyes narrow and he gives his head a small shake.
“That kiss should never have happened,” he adds salt to the wound before clarifying. “Not when our focus should’ve been on finding those kids. Now that I’ve had a taste of you, it’s even more difficult to keep my head in the game since all I can think of is doing it again.”
Oh.
Wow.
So not what I expected him to say, and a small frisson of excitement has my heart flutter in my chest.
“I see,” I mutter stupidly.
“I’m glad you do because it can’t happen again,” he states resolutely as he stands up.
Thunk.
Both my feet crash firmly back on solid ground.
Mitch
I turn my back as Kate hides the wire of the hidden microphone in her clothes.
I convinced her to wear it as backup since it wouldn’t be the first time outside factors messed with reception of the wireless signal. With the small recorder on Kate, we’re covered in case of a mishap.
We’re in my vehicle a block away from the library where Sally said Kaylie would usually go to do homework after dinner. She didn’t have a chance to prepare the girl for a meeting with Kate, but because of time restraint we can’t afford to wait to slowly win Kaylie’s trust.
Kate is going in cold and if the girl threatens to bolt or she can’t get her to open up, Kate won’t have a choice but to put our cards on the table to prompt her to talk.
“Ready,” she says.
I straighten in my seat and glance over, noting the pang of disappointment when I find her put back together with all her parts appropriately covered.
Tonight, Kate purposely ditched the schoolmarm gear and dark bob wig in favor of a more casual look of jeans, a loose-fitting top, and a hoodie. The different look will hopefully give her a chance to approach the girl before she’s spotted, and also, on the off-chance she’s seen talking to Kaylie by someone else, she won’t be easily recognizable as Opal, the soft-spoken center volunteer.
“I’ll be here.”
I’d feel more comfortable if I could keep her in my view, but my inconspicuous parking spot on the residential street behind the library will have to do.
My eyes are glued to her round ass as she gets out and starts walking to the end of the street, the well-worn jeans showcasing her ample curves. The moment she disappears from sight, I rub my hands over my face in an attempt to get a grip. Then I quickly don the small covert communications equipment that will allow me to listen in and talk to her in case of an emergency.