When You Dare
Page 33
“Taking a shower—and this is no time for you to be an ass**le, so lay off of her, will you?” He tasted the coffee and commended Chris with a nod. It had taken him nearly a month to teach Chris the right ratio of freshly ground coffee beans to water to brew time. Now he had it down pat, and it was one luxury Dare missed while out on the road.
“I saw the bruises.” Chris leaned back against the counter and folded his arms over his chest. “Someone really put it to her?”
“Several someones.”
He acknowledged that, then said, “I hope they aren’t still living.”
Dare rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. That he killed when necessary wasn’t a surprise for Chris, or an emotional burden for Dare. “I took care of them.” But now, in hindsight, he wished like hell that he would have kept one of the f**kers around to question.
Chris was curious, but as usual, he wasn’t prying. It was yet another reason why he made such an invaluable assistant. “I found Molly in the same holding cell with Alani, but she stood out like a sore thumb.” Dare faced his friend. “No way was she there to be sold off, because she was abused too much, way more than the others.”
Chris went still. “So why was she there?”
“Fucked if I know. I think someone had her taken. But I have no idea why.” Dare frowned. “Yet.”
While idly setting out the fresh groceries he’d bought, Chris considered that. “I take it she isn’t exactly the norm for that sort of thing?”
“Hell, no.”
Chris didn’t drink much coffee, which might have been why it took so long for him to get the process of making it right. He took out the orange juice and poured himself a tall glass. “It almost had to be somebody close to her—isn’t that what you always say?”
Dare shrugged. “I’m keeping an open mind, and I plan to cover all the bases.”
“A few questions come to mind.”
“I figured as much.” Dare set the half-empty cup aside and went to investigate Chris’s food purchases. Skinless chicken and fresh vegetables would be quick and easy to cook. “Let’s have it.”
“She hired you?”
Dare shrugged again. Molly’s offer to pay him for services rendered didn’t sit well with him. “I might do this one pro bono. But I haven’t told her that yet, so keep it to yourself.”
That set Chris back, so it was a few seconds before he asked, “How long is she staying here?”
“Don’t know yet.” And he didn’t want to think about it too much. He preferred to play it by ear, and take it one day at a time. He got out what he’d need to sauté the chicken and steam the vegetables. “Depends on how things go.”
“What does that mean?”
He looked up from his chore. “I’m going to take her back to her place, be with her when she sees family and then judge my next step.”
“So if things go well and you can wrap it up quick, maybe you won’t be bringing her back with you?”
“I didn’t say—”
Molly cleared her throat and both men looked up. She’d combed her wet hair straight back and dressed in one of the big shirts—with a bra beneath—and the jeans. Her bare feet poked out from under the denim. Dare straightened.
Chris stepped around him and held out a chair at the long granite bar. “Coffee or juice?”
Glancing away from Dare’s penetrating stare, she said, “Juice would be great. Thank you.” She visually explored the island gourmet kitchen with stone countertops and lots of stainless steel. It opened into a family room and the morning room, where they ate breakfast. “Every room is more amazing than the next.”
Dare said nothing. The second she’d entered, he again felt her tension.
The dogs came to investigate, sniffed her feet and dropped down beside her. Hell, Dare thought, even they felt protective, so why would he expect himself to be any different?
Maybe because he knew it wasn’t just protectiveness that he felt.
“I’ll have food ready in twenty minutes.”
“Sounds great. What can I do to help?”
“You can tell me why your readers could be suspects. And then we’ll go from there.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“READERS?” CHRIS DID a double take. What the hell did he mean by readers? Molly wrote? Like…what?
“She’s an author,” Dare told him as he began preparing the food. “One of her books is being made into a movie with Ryan Reynolds as the lead.”
Chris’s jaw loosened. Why did Dare just keep dropping bombshells on him? He’d already found her interesting, in part because Dare had brought her here, which was an aberration of the major kind.
But this was something altogether different.
“You’re shittin’ me.”
“Nice language, ass**le.”
Chris waved that off. It wasn’t like Dare was any better. Hell, neither of them was used to having a female around the place—not counting Tai and Sargie, who didn’t care what language they heard as long as they got treats and plenty of attention.
As a genuine movie buff, Chris felt suitably impressed. But then, he’d already been impressed with her before that. Somehow, Molly didn’t fit his vision of the creative sort. She wasn’t…glamorous enough. And she seemed far too grounded, instead of artistic.
But hell, she’d just been rescued from kidnappers who had battered her pretty badly. Maybe under better circumstances she had more savoir faire.
“I saw the bruises.” Chris leaned back against the counter and folded his arms over his chest. “Someone really put it to her?”
“Several someones.”
He acknowledged that, then said, “I hope they aren’t still living.”
Dare rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. That he killed when necessary wasn’t a surprise for Chris, or an emotional burden for Dare. “I took care of them.” But now, in hindsight, he wished like hell that he would have kept one of the f**kers around to question.
Chris was curious, but as usual, he wasn’t prying. It was yet another reason why he made such an invaluable assistant. “I found Molly in the same holding cell with Alani, but she stood out like a sore thumb.” Dare faced his friend. “No way was she there to be sold off, because she was abused too much, way more than the others.”
Chris went still. “So why was she there?”
“Fucked if I know. I think someone had her taken. But I have no idea why.” Dare frowned. “Yet.”
While idly setting out the fresh groceries he’d bought, Chris considered that. “I take it she isn’t exactly the norm for that sort of thing?”
“Hell, no.”
Chris didn’t drink much coffee, which might have been why it took so long for him to get the process of making it right. He took out the orange juice and poured himself a tall glass. “It almost had to be somebody close to her—isn’t that what you always say?”
Dare shrugged. “I’m keeping an open mind, and I plan to cover all the bases.”
“A few questions come to mind.”
“I figured as much.” Dare set the half-empty cup aside and went to investigate Chris’s food purchases. Skinless chicken and fresh vegetables would be quick and easy to cook. “Let’s have it.”
“She hired you?”
Dare shrugged again. Molly’s offer to pay him for services rendered didn’t sit well with him. “I might do this one pro bono. But I haven’t told her that yet, so keep it to yourself.”
That set Chris back, so it was a few seconds before he asked, “How long is she staying here?”
“Don’t know yet.” And he didn’t want to think about it too much. He preferred to play it by ear, and take it one day at a time. He got out what he’d need to sauté the chicken and steam the vegetables. “Depends on how things go.”
“What does that mean?”
He looked up from his chore. “I’m going to take her back to her place, be with her when she sees family and then judge my next step.”
“So if things go well and you can wrap it up quick, maybe you won’t be bringing her back with you?”
“I didn’t say—”
Molly cleared her throat and both men looked up. She’d combed her wet hair straight back and dressed in one of the big shirts—with a bra beneath—and the jeans. Her bare feet poked out from under the denim. Dare straightened.
Chris stepped around him and held out a chair at the long granite bar. “Coffee or juice?”
Glancing away from Dare’s penetrating stare, she said, “Juice would be great. Thank you.” She visually explored the island gourmet kitchen with stone countertops and lots of stainless steel. It opened into a family room and the morning room, where they ate breakfast. “Every room is more amazing than the next.”
Dare said nothing. The second she’d entered, he again felt her tension.
The dogs came to investigate, sniffed her feet and dropped down beside her. Hell, Dare thought, even they felt protective, so why would he expect himself to be any different?
Maybe because he knew it wasn’t just protectiveness that he felt.
“I’ll have food ready in twenty minutes.”
“Sounds great. What can I do to help?”
“You can tell me why your readers could be suspects. And then we’ll go from there.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“READERS?” CHRIS DID a double take. What the hell did he mean by readers? Molly wrote? Like…what?
“She’s an author,” Dare told him as he began preparing the food. “One of her books is being made into a movie with Ryan Reynolds as the lead.”
Chris’s jaw loosened. Why did Dare just keep dropping bombshells on him? He’d already found her interesting, in part because Dare had brought her here, which was an aberration of the major kind.
But this was something altogether different.
“You’re shittin’ me.”
“Nice language, ass**le.”
Chris waved that off. It wasn’t like Dare was any better. Hell, neither of them was used to having a female around the place—not counting Tai and Sargie, who didn’t care what language they heard as long as they got treats and plenty of attention.
As a genuine movie buff, Chris felt suitably impressed. But then, he’d already been impressed with her before that. Somehow, Molly didn’t fit his vision of the creative sort. She wasn’t…glamorous enough. And she seemed far too grounded, instead of artistic.
But hell, she’d just been rescued from kidnappers who had battered her pretty badly. Maybe under better circumstances she had more savoir faire.
