River?
Declan’s nostrils flared just thinking about the other man. A man Declan had decided he was going to know a lot more about once Linus got back to him with the information he had already asked the other man for, albeit by first having him talk to Danny Walker.
Declan hadn’t wanted to alarm Fawn by mentioning that Danny thought they might have been followed from the hospital earlier. Especially when Danny was unsure whether he was just overreacting. Hopefully, Declan would know more about that once Linus got back to him.
Which had better be pretty damned soon.
CHAPTER FIVE
“I promisedI would tell you more about that other situation if it became necessary.”
Fawn turned from where she was cooking a chicken stir-fry for their dinner on the ultra-modern black glass hob that had taken her a while to work out how to even switch on.
She raised questioning brows at Declan’s statement as she looked across the kitchen to where he was standing in the doorway. “Has it now become necessary?”
“Yes.”
Declan was now fully dressed, but his hair was still damp from where he appeared to have taken a shower.
Which he shouldn’t have done without supervision. Even if that was only by Fawn sitting in his adjoining bedroom with the door open, rather than actually being in the bathroom with him, if that was what he preferred.
But instead of telling him that, she found herself distracted by the way his navy-blue T-shirt clung to his shoulders, arms,and chest. It should be illegal for any man’s chest to be that muscular, but especially a man of his age. Those muscles were so defined, Fawn thought she could see the outline of his eight-pack as those ridges dipped and disappeared beneath faded jeans that rested low on his hips. Speaking of which, there was a faded spot in the denim right where the bulge of his?—
“Fawn…?”
She blinked several times before forcing herself to raise her gaze to meet his. “Can we wait to talk about this over dinner, which is almost ready, or shall I remove the pan and reheat the food after we’ve finished talking?”
Declan gave the question several seconds’ consideration before giving a half-smile. “Dinner smells good.”
Fawn took that as confirmation of her former suggestion as she turned back to toss the chicken and vegetables in the pan a few more times before dishing it up onto the two warm and waiting plates. She put a lot more on Declan’s plate than her own, of course.
Thea Morgan had ensured Declan was fed enticing, tasty meals during his stay in the hospital, and Fawn intended to make sure it continued that way. Eating, as much as remaining pain-free, would help speed up the healing process for Declan.
“I set the table in the breakfast alcove,” she informed him. “I also put your two pain meds next to the water glass near one of the place settings. But if you would rather eat in the formal dining room?—”
“Here is fine.” Declan took his laden plate from her before walking over to where the table was set with the utensils they would need, along with condiments. There was also the jug ofcold water yet to be poured into the glasses. Wine was a definite no-no with the amount of pain meds Declan was still taking daily, and Fawn tended not to drink alcohol. The occasional glass of wine, maybe, but never when she was working, as she would be twenty-four-seven for the next two weeks.
Fawn waited until they were seated opposite each other and she had poured their water and watched Declan take his two painkillers before she prompted, “Well?”
He grimaced. “I’ve been debating whether or not you’re a rip-the-band-aid-off sort of woman, or one who prefers to have it removed slowly. One is brief agony. The other takes longer but is no less painful. From what I know of you, I’m guessing it’s the former.” He scooped up a forkful of chicken and vegetables and began eating while waiting for her reply.
“Definitely the former,” she confirmed, picking up her own fork and doing the same.
Declan sobered. “Okay.” He nodded. “When Danny drove us here from the hospital earlier today, the reason he took me aside was because he suspected another car had followed us from the airport.”
Fawn drew in a hissing breath. “Why on earth would someone do that?” She tensed. “Do you think it has something to do with you having been shot a week ago?”
“Yes.”
She shivered at hearing that abrupt and definitive answer. “But rumor at the hospital is that the man who shot you is dead.”
“He is.”
“Do you have any idea how he ended up that way— Youdoknow who killed him,” she realized, having seen the admission of that fact in Declan’s slightly guilty expression.
Declan winced. “What you need to understand from the onset of this conversation is that members of the Russian underworld don’t live by the same rules that you and I do.”
“That vague reference to Russian criminals does little to explain who was responsible for killing that man.”
