Relatively Risky

by Pauline Baird Jones

  “Where are we going to eat?”

  There was a nudge in the question, he felt it, and heard her stomach growl again. He grinned. “Have you ever been to The Italian Pie?”

  “No, but I love pie.” Her eyes invited him to stay in her comfort zone as long as he needed. With a sense of relief, he accepted. While also reminding himself that he didn’t have to worry about kids. Not anymore. Done with that. Having dinner not having babies with her.

  With a pause to leave her portfolio on a table by the door, they went outside. Nell waited while Alex inserted the key into the lock of the passenger side of his truck.

  “Wow, great parking place. Are you sure you want to give it up?”

  He grinned. “If you’re going to drive in this city, you have to learn when to let go.”

  “I suppose so.”

  There was no come-hither or sexual undertone in her eyes, but he felt heat build in his mid-section. They weren’t up a tree now. He wanted to kiss her, just to know. No, that wasn’t all of it. He didn’t know what it was, or why it was, but whatever it was, it dried out his mouth. Left him wanting to know the taste of her. Her eyes widened, as if she’d joined his wave-length. She licked her lips. Not sure if she knew it was provocative. She appeared to decide something and he braced for it.

  “If you…” Her voice faded and she had to clear it, the husky sound incredibly sexy when taken with the innocence in her eyes. “If you want to kiss me, I wish you’d just do it,” she said in a rush, “because the suspense is killing me.”

  Her chest rose and fell in a quick breath. Maybe that’s what made him notice the tiny red circle of a targeting laser right over her heart. He knocked her to the ground. Above their heads, the passenger window of his truck shattered, spraying glass all over his back.

  4

  Nell was about ready to eat her own arm. Seriously. She didn’t get the kiss or the pie. And she’d hit the ground three times in one very long day. An ironic twist on third time’s the charm. Third time’s the harm? She winced at the cliché, and from the sting of alcohol as the EMT re-cleaned the “blood” on her arm, then gave the same painful attention to her knees.

  At the apex of the confusion, Alex presided over a scene filled with flashing lights, yellow crime tape, the neighbors, random ghouls, and one or two press types. He hadn’t answered her question—which she couldn’t believe she’d asked—but she’d sensed a yes, a little mouth-to-mouth incoming. Instead she got a crime scene she couldn’t pedal away from. And some more bruises. She shouldn’t have changed into the shorts after the creepy encounter with Dimitri. Felt about five with her thoroughly scrubbed knees and elbows.

  At least Sarah was away, meeting with a client. It was a target-rich environment for an artist, but not the best advert for a caterer.

  “You hit your head?” the EMT asked, sounding like she was going down a mental check list.

  Nell considered the question. There had been a tree root. They ran along the top of the ground. The water table was barely under the ground in the city, except when it rained and then it was above ground. The roots were very Middle Earth and rather cool—until your head got slammed into one. Her back, too. Nell half nodded. Wanted to apologize, though she wasn’t quite sure why. EMT was gentle, but it still hurt like a son of a gun. Probably a good thing she hadn’t eaten yet, since the pain induced a wave of nausea that popped up beads of sweat along her upper lip.

  “So how long have you known Alex?” Her voice was pitched low and Nell saw her glance dart briefly in Alex’s direction.

  Her cheeks warmed. “Since this morning.” Felt longer, though she didn’t say it. So this EMT—Nell’s gaze did an up and down—this very attractive EMT, knew Alex.

  EMT’s eyes widened. “Well, how interesting.”

  Nell couldn’t argue that. The whole day had been interesting in a bruise-inducing, bat crap crazy, creepy guy overload kind of way. Was this gal a girlfriend? Past, present, or hoping to become one? The hands fell away, the EMT stripped off her gloves and tossed them into the van. If she was a girlfriend, she didn’t look bitter or worried. Not that she needed to be. She was beautiful, even rigged out as an EMT. With the added distance, Nell studied her like an artist instead of a girl. Mostly. Might have been a bit of a green filter over her eyes. EMT was everyone’s girl—tall, but nicely shaped, and blonde—wait, was there something familiar about her?

  “I think you’ll live.”

  Nell might focus on sketching vegetables, but she also sketched people in their original form. She was capable of doing family facial math, once she dumped the green filter. “Are you related to Alex?”

  Her brows shot up. “I’m his sister, Laura.”

  Last of the green faded into relief she had no right to feel. Laura’s head tilted, the careless knot of blond hair flopping to the side.

  “Most people don’t see a resemblance.” She didn’t sound thrilled Nell had.

  Nell wasn’t most people, but it wasn’t a blessing.

  “Nell Whitby.” Kind felt like she should add a qualifier or identifier, but she wasn’t Alex’s friend, hoped she wasn’t his foe. I’m his witness just sounded weird. I’m an artist was too pretentious. They shook hands. It was something to do in the awkward search for follow-up comments. Neither found one, so this was followed by an extension of the silence, not helped when Alex made a beeline for them, his gaze clearing a path ahead of his body. Nell gave him a careful smile, one with lots of neutral in it. The sister’s eyes had turned into lasers. She saw him frown, but at the sister or her?

  “You have a sister. Cool.” As in not really cool, but needed something at the end of the sentence so it didn’t sound accusing.

  “He has six sisters.” Laura’s grin was wicked. “And six brothers.”

  Nell felt air hit parts of her eyeballs that had never felt air before, as those eyeballs bugged Seven plus six wasn’t a difficult calculation, even for a gal who didn’t like math. That was a lot of sisters. And a lot of brothers.

  “None of us wants to meet or beat daddy’s record,” Laura added, perhaps to soothe the bug-eyed shock.

  It didn’t, though it rather explained the way Alex had looked at Fancy and Georges. And the cat. She studied Alex professionally, okay, not completely professionally, but long enough to decide, “You’re the oldest.”

  She was not sure how she knew this. It’s not like she was an expert on birth order or anything. And she did not know Alex, even though it felt like they were friends who just hadn’t met before now.

  “You have siblings?” Laura asked.

  “She doesn’t. Lucky her,” Alex said. “Is she all right?”

  Laura stared at her brother for several seconds. “She’s fine, Alex. A few cuts and bruises and a tiny bump on the back of her head.” Her gaze shifted to Nell. “But you should see a doctor if you feel dizzy or the headache persists. Mine keeps coming back, but you might have more luck.” She shot a look at her brother that was thick with sibling rivalry.

  Nell’s lips twitched. She’d keep the headache if he’d kiss it better. If he had been planning to kiss her. She kept swinging between certain he meant to, fear he hadn’t meant to, and certainty it would have been a pity kiss cuz she’d asked for it. That made her feel dizzy, which didn’t help when she noted the sulky curve of his mouth. Pouting shouldn’t be so cute. And sexy. The shadow of a beard and the pout, yeah, definitely sexy. She ran finger along her lower lip, wishing…his lashes flickered. In books that meant something. But in books everything meant something.

  “She might be a bit shocky.” Laura spoke, rocking Alex back on his heels. She added, “Sibling shock, big brother.” Her grin was wicked, then turned wry. “I’m all too familiar with the condition.”

  His jaw clenched. A couple of deep breaths that expanded his chest quite nicely—Nell thoroughly enjoyed the sight from her vantage point—and then he gritted out. “Thank you, Laura. I’ll return the favor. Soon.” On this clear threat, he turned to Nell. “Can
you stand? Walk?”

  Nell blinked, wondering why he’d think she couldn’t. She wasn’t on a stretcher. And she’d been certified fine by a professional, well, mostly fine. She stood, instead of answering, then dipped her chin to hide the wince as stiffened muscles protested. Okay, walking was more challenging than she’d anticipated. Might involve some zombie-type limping. Alex’s hand lightly gripped her arm above the scuffed elbow. The warm grip eased the muscle gripe a little. Might be a good time to do the helpless female routine. Pity she didn’t know how. She’d made her best pitch for the kiss, so the ball was in his court. It was just that guys didn’t always seem to recognize when the ball was in their court. One might conclude their balls—ouch. Had not meant her thoughts to go that direction.

  Didn’t want to look or sound desperate, so she proffered a friendly smile. This had the added benefit of requiring her to look at him. It was rather nice looking up into those blue eyes, being in the range of his musky scent. Could make a girl dizzy and not cuz she’d got her bell rung yet again.

  Alex’s mouth opened. Closed. There was a pause. His hand dropped away, leaving her elbow both sad and chilled. “We need to talk.”

  “We could go inside,” she offered. It was cooler and there might be bread or something left over from their last gig. Her stomach—now that it was back in place after dropping to her feet and then jumping up into her throat—had joined the grumble parade with the rest of her muscles.

  He didn’t touch her again—a change from when they’d headed to his truck on their way to not get pie. Then his hand had rested against the small of her back. It had stayed there even when she turned, it had given her the courage to ask the Question. Maybe he was relieved that he didn’t have to answer? Guys were deep into avoidance. The most interesting ones had sure managed to avoid her for a great portion of her life. Her knowledge of them was mostly culled from books, movies, TV, and girl chats with her friends. Some field observation. Amazing what couples got up to in a library.

  It was a sad fact that she and Alex would never have met if she hadn’t ridden her bike into his car jacking. He’d had to notice her. It had felt like he’d considered the Question before she asked it, but it was also possible her imagination had run away with her. It had been running a lot today.

  The running of her imagination led her thoughts to the hot Russian. There’d been, like a second, she’d thought he’d been flirting with her. Yeah, the imagination had been on a roll today. Her practical side, the librarian, agreed that the imagination had been out of control, though that librarian also wanted the kiss. The artist, well, duh, she wanted the kiss, too. She was the one who’d asked the Question.

  Her thoughts got her to the front door, helped her sort of ignore the feeling of being heavily watched by the mass of police and sundry others who had collected to observe, assess, report, and block traffic. She got the door unlocked, and Alex pushed it open, angling so she could pass him. With a last look back, Nell noted that the chaos seemed to have gotten worse during the short walk. Saw a TV news crew in the mix now.

  “Slow news day,” Alex said, nodding for her to go inside.

  “Slow would be nice.” Nell clumped across the wood floor, her ungainly factor increasing exponentially with each loud, painful snap of boots to wood. It was a relief to finally reach the kitchen. These old houses sure had long hallways. Pity the poor servants of the past. “I know you’re hungry—”

  “Nell.”

  The insistence in his tone turned her from the fridge and the edible something in there calling her name. It might have been something with mold, but at the moment, she didn’t care.

  “I’m sorry, but we need to talk. Could you take a seat?”

  She could. Didn’t want to. Her tush was still bitter from the triple slam. If she’d known he’d make her sit down without eating being involved, she’d have taken him to the living room and the soft chairs. She eased down, managed to hide most of the wince. Alex seemed distracted, though, studying her with a frown that had her shifting in unease, which also hurt, by the way. “What?”

  He pulled out a notebook and a pencil. The artist saw “cop” drop over him like a shroud. The librarian wondered why.

  “Can you think of any reason someone would want to kill you?”

  Neither artist nor librarian saw that question coming. Her jaw sagged. The cop who pissed off criminal type dudes day and night thought someone wanted her dead? For a second, she replayed her encounter with the creepy guys on the Moon Walk, but even her imagination failed to supply a reason for that to be life threatening. “Not to be rude, but isn’t it more likely to be you?”

  “The targeting dot was on your chest.”

  He had been looking at her chest? She looked down. Targeting dot was most interesting thing to happen there...ever.

  “It’s not like the shooter couldn’t see who to target.”

  Okay, it was a fair point that still didn’t make sense. She was a former librarian, current wait in a catering company, sometime sketch artist, and author of one children’s book. Not the résumé to attract a killer. Or a date. “Maybe I was just the first place the dot landed. It might have been getting ready to move to you. Or it was a mistake.”

  It was kind of a pity she wasn’t interesting enough to kill. Not that she wanted to be that kind of interesting, but the notion she might be that kind of interesting had Alex looking at her like she was interesting.

  Alex frowned. “Mistaken identity does make more sense.”

  He didn’t have to agree so fast. Could pretend she might be interesting enough to kill. Only he was a guy. He couldn’t.

  He shifted in the chair, as if settling in for a long haul. “But we need to be sure.”

  Making sure was a plan she could support, though she’d be more supportive if there was food involved. She tried to compress her stomach so it wouldn’t whine. Been bad enough when it whined while they were up the tree, but in the deep silence of the kitchen? What if it sounded like a different body sound?

  He half frowned. Nell could see ideas ticking through his oh-so-blue eyes. She could sort of figure out his thought processes. Thanks to TV and movies and, of course, books. A lot of mysteries had passed through her hands, most of them pausing long enough for her to read them.

  “No,” she said.

  “What?”

  “No one to leave me a large fortune. A pity, but there it is.” Didn’t need to be a fortune, just enough to stabilize her situation would be nice, but not so much someone needed to kill her to take it. That was just ostentatious. She held up a hand, ticking off the mystery plot motives. “Don’t know any secrets. And I write kids books, not tell-alls.” Didn’t need that many fingers. Her life was not that interesting.

  This did not stop him from trying to find a crumb of lethal in her life. He found no rocks to turn over here or in Wyoming, where they had actual rocks. When he paused to regroup, she sighed yet again. That left someone gunning for him. She’d suggested it without really thinking about it, but all the sudden it felt real. Scary real.

  “What?” Alex asked.

  “Well, I just realized that someone might be trying to…kill you.”

  He shrugged. “It happens.”

  Okay, that was seriously sexy. So wrong to go there, but hard not to when she was weak with hunger.

  He tapped fingers on the table top. “Maybe you saw something?”

  “Something?”

  “Something or someone—you shouldn’t. Maybe you sketched the wrong person?”

  She’d been tempted, but tempted wasn’t doing it. “I mostly sketch kids, and their parents buy the drawings…”

  “None of them seemed…upset by it?”

  “One mom didn’t like their kid being turned into a radish. But the dad thought it was funny.”

  “If they don’t like the sketch?”

  “I tear it up.” That had only happened once. Not her fault the kid picked his nose the whole time. She’d thought it funny to tur
n him into a comic ear of corn picking its nose from a line of five different noses. His Mom wasn’t a fan of irony. Or maybe she didn’t get the joke.

  His fingers tapped some more, until he realized what he was doing. He flexed the fingers, then lowered them to the wood. “Anything seem out of the ordinary in the past few weeks?”

  Nell couldn’t help it. She had to give him a Look. “I moved here from Wyoming. Everything is out of my ordinary.”

  He grinned, the cop dropping away for several very heady seconds. Her toes curled so tight she almost couldn’t straighten those piggies out again. And they sure didn’t want to go to market. She leaned her elbows on the table to stop the lean toward him. Propped her chin on her hands. Her fingers slid into her hair, started twisting strands.

  “Let me rephrase that. Anything sinister?”

  That brought back the creepy old guy, but other than the fact that he looked sinister, she hadn’t seen him do anything sinister. Not even a shady meeting for her to accidentally observe. And she was one of thousands who had seen him, since the Natchez sailed past his perch several times a day. It wasn’t actually a crime to misplace your cane, though they’d both acted like she committed one tripping on it. She gave a small shrug but felt a need to try. Not that she actually thought someone had tried to kill her. No, she just wanted the cute cop to keep looking at her like someone in need of protection. For that, she flipped through her mental portfolio for anything she could proffer. And came up with zip. Nada. Bupkis. Whatever Bupkis was—

  “Sorry.”

  “What about the past week?”

  “Week?”

  “Takes time to set up a hit.”

  Well, wasn’t that a lovely thought. “Last week was spent cooking with Sarah, handing out canapés, and washing dishes.” That’s why the muse had been so insistent this morning. Usually she didn’t roll out quite that early.

  “What about today? Anything interesting happen?”

  She waited for him to look up so she could give him another Look. Got another grin, which was pretty much the goal. The grin faded into a thoughtful frown. He made what looked like random doodles on the paper.