“I get that. Can’t you tell her that there was someone else behind this?”
As much as he’d like to lie, he wouldn’t give Dizzie false hope. “She’s too focused. They’ve told her that the package you delivered contained the bomb. She won’t let that go.” Killian wouldn’t either. He’d only been able—and willing—to shift his focus.
“That’s what I was afraid of.” Dizzie picked at the bedspread, slicing off little balls of lint with her nails and flicking them across the room.
He watched her for a minute, then reached over and wrapped his hand around hers. “Keep that up and there won’t be anything left. We’ll figure it out. We’ve got a plan.”
The corner of her mouth quirked up, curving her lips into a faint smile. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
She was right. The pilled comforter had definitely seen better days. “The Jack would charge us for it.”
A laugh bubbled out of her. “Yeah, probably call it an antique and charge you hundreds for it.”
“Speaking of overcharging, want me to go grab us some food?”
“Are you sure it’s safe?”
Killian didn’t know how to answer that. She wouldn’t truly be safe until the real bomber was apprehended. And maybe not even then. In her grief, Porta was a wild card. “Let me worry about that,” he said finally.
Chapter30
Dizzie watchedKillian gather up the dinner dishes. “Can you cook?”
His head whipped around and he nearly dropped the plates. He set them gently on the dresser in the corner of the room then leaned against it, hands tucked into his pockets. Like nothing had happened. “No, why do you ask?”
“We wouldn’t have to risk going out if this room came with a kitchen. I’m a master of heating things up, but I can’t cook. At all.” Living at headquarters, meals were included. Unless she had scored “cook” on her assessment, there was no reason for her to learn.
“We had a chef. Or ate out. Cooking for yourself,” he paused and looked at the floor rather than at her, “isn’t done.”
She pushed off from the bed and stood in front of him. “You’re super rich. I know that. Everybody knows that.” Exasperation colored her voice.
He raised his head and looked at her. A blush tinged his cheeks.
“I don’t want you to feel like I’m rubbing it in.”
What started as a giggle, morphed into a full-blown laugh.
Maybe it was the stress of the last few days. Or his absolute sincerity. It didn’t matter.
Once the first laugh escaped, she couldn’t stop.
Dizzie stared at Killian while she laughed and laughed. The laughs turned into wheezes until she couldn’t breathe.
A number of expressions crossed his face, ending with one that looked a lot like panic. “Are you okay?”
“You don’t want to rub it in,” she wheezed out between laughs. Dizzie dropped her hands to her knees. If she caught her breath, she might be able to speak. The words came out in fits and starts. “You’re one of the richest men in the city. That and your good looks are probably the best-known facts about you.” That hadn’t come out right. “You know what I mean.”
“Well, I’m glad I’m good for something.” His words were stilted.
Had she offended him or was he still embarrassed?
“Yeah, well, anyway. Neither of us can cook. Luckily, we can afford meals because of your really big pile of money.”
His jaw dropped.
Good, he needed to loosen up. No surprise that he didn’t cook. He’d grown up in the lap of luxury.
“So, your folks weren’t around much?” She probably shouldn’t bring it up. He’d shared so little about his family and she wanted to know more. These were close quarters, so she wasn’t surprised the conversation kept straying into more intimate territory.
