Whiskey Beach Part 50

Vinnie took the coffee, stared into it. "He's a hard-nosed, experienced cop with a pretty solid rep. My take? Coming up against you, Eli, when his gut and the circ.u.mstantial says you're guilty as black-eyed sin, then not being able to prove it's got him p.i.s.sed."

"I can't be guilty of murder just to keep his record clear."

"He knew Duncan."

"I got that."

"I haven't looked deep, but my sense is they knew each other pretty well. So now he's got more motivation to break you down. And this time, you've got an alibi."

"Which would be me."

"And you," Vinnie said to Abra, "he's going to see as a liar, protecting your ..."

"The word these days is 'lover,'" Abra put in. "He can try to discredit me. He's doomed to failure. And I can see on your face you're thinking it was easier, clearer when I wasn't sleeping with Eli. I've- We've complicated things. But the truth's still the truth, Vinnie."

"I just want you to know he's going to stir things up. He'll dig. He's already dug as far as can be dug with Eli, so you need to expect him to do the same on you, Abs."

"It doesn't worry me. Eli knows about Derrick, Vinnie."

"Okay." With a nod, Vinnie drank some coffee. "I don't want you worried. Just prepared."

"I appreciate it."

"Have they run ballistics?" Eli asked him.

"I can't give you details of the investigation." Vinnie shrugged, drank more coffee. "Your grandmother's got a nice antique gun collection upstairs. She let me see it once. I don't recall any .32 calibers up there."

"No," Eli said just as casually. "Nothing like that in the collection, or in the house."

"Well ... I'd better get going. Thanks for the coffee, Abra."

"Anytime."

Eli rose to walk him to the door. "I appreciate you coming by like this, Vinnie. I won't forget it."

"You look out for her. She knows just how vicious people can be, but she's still inclined to think they won't be. Stay out of trouble."

I thought I was, Eli mused. But trouble had a way of wiggling its way through the smallest opening.

When he stepped back into the parlor, she straightened from adding a log to the fire. Then she turned, flames licking and rising behind her back.

"However it happened," he began, "whoever's to blame, you being here, being with me, puts you in the crosshairs. Your personal life, what happened to you, choices you've made, your work, your family, your friends-all of everything is going to be turned over, dug into, examined, talked about. You've been through something like this once, and you put it behind you. But staying here will put it in front of you again."

"That's true. And?"

"You should take some time to think about that, to decide if you really want to put yourself under that kind of scrutiny."

Her gaze stayed calm and quiet on his. "Which means you don't think I have thought about it, and doesn't say much for your opinion of my sense of self or my ability to reason out consequences for actions."

"That's not what I meant."

"You're not going to save me from myself, Eli. I do fine in that area. I'm not opposed to you looking out for me because I believe, strongly, people should look out for each other, but Vinnie's wrong. Voices carry in empty houses, and I have excellent hearing," she pointed out. "I do know how vicious people can be, but I'm not inclined to think they won't be. I'm inclined to hope they won't be, and that's very different."

"They usually are, given half a chance."

"It's a shame you feel that way, but given what's happened, what's happening now, it's hard to blame you. Still, we could have an interesting debate on that subject sometime. But right now, do you want to know what I think?"

"Yeah, I do."

"I think while the kitchen floor looks good, that couch looks even better. Want to try it out and see?"

"Yeah." He walked toward her. "I do."

She stayed. When they finally made it back to bed, finally exhausted themselves, she learned he wasn't a snuggler. But he earned half a point rather than a full one in her score book by not objecting to snuggling.

She woke in light like a gray pearl, when he shifted to ease away from her. "Mmm. You getting up?"

"Yeah. Sorry I woke you."

"It's okay." But she curled around him again. "What time is it?"

"About six. You should go back to sleep."

"I have an eight-o'clock cla.s.s." She nuzzled at his throat. "What's on your plate?"

"Usually coffee and work." But he could adjust that, he thought, and ran a hand down her long, bare back.

"Then you have time to join me for a short morning stretch and I'll fix you breakfast as a reward before I go."

"We can stretch right here."

She didn't object when he rolled over, slipped inside her. Instead, she sighed deep, smiled into his eyes. "A wonderful way to salute the sun."

Slow and easy, like floating on a quiet sea. The lazy counterpoint to the night's rush and thunder slid through her like the sunrise, like that promise of the fresh and the new and the hopeful.

She could see him now, the lines of his face, the clarity of his eyes with the dark trouble still shadowed in them.

Her nature urged her to banish shadows, to bring the light. So she gave herself to him for his pleasure, for her own. She took that gentle ride up the crest, down again, and watched for a moment, for their moment, that light burn through.

She lay with him, wrapped around him, and basked in that moment.

"You should think about me today."

He turned his head to brush his lips against her throat. "I think the odds are pretty good on that."

"Deliberately think of me today," she amended. "Say around noon. And I'll deliberately think of you. We'll send strong, positive, s.e.xy thoughts into the universe."