“Did you see him?”
“No.” He holds the rifle away from us, his right arm outstretched, his left curling around me to maneuver us farther inside. “Step back.” His voice is gentle. Not like him at all.
I realize he can’t close the door properly with me blocking his progress. Exhaling, I move to the center of the room. His movements are quick. It’s one of the always amazing things about him… how light-footed he is despite his size.
Once the door is secure and his coat is removed, he walks the rifle and night-vision goggles back to his room. I grab the blanket and wrap it around myself, waiting.
It’s not very long before he comes back. He retrieves the pistol, flips a switch, and takes it away.
When he’s gone for longer than I’d like, I walk back to stand in the makeshift bedroom doorway created by a pair of screen panels.
He sits on the edge of the bed, removing his boots. “Tell me what you saw. Every detail that you can remember.”
I do exactly that, leaving nothing out. It’s a barrage of words that includes how cold the floor and toilet seat felt and ends with my waking him up. Curling the blanket tighter around myself, I shudder.
“I didn’t dream it, Viking. I swear.”
“I know.” He sounds convinced, which eases some of the tension in my shoulders. He pulls his sweater off and tosses it on the end of the bed and then removes his jeans.
“Are we going back to bed? Like nothing happened?”
“There’s nothing more to do before dawn.” His voice is so calm.
I like a guy who doesn’t lose his cool under pressure, but this is crazy.
“When it’s light, I’ll do what needs to be done,” he adds, tossing his jeans on the end of the bed near his sweater.
My head tilts, and my gaze cuts to the top of the tall wardrobe where the rifle is hidden. “What needs to be done?”
“I’ll look for signs of a prowler. See if there’s anything to lead me to him. And I’ll install motion-activated lights and cameras. If he comes back, we’ll get him on the feed.” He pulls back the blanket. “He must have had a car nearby. I didn’t hear it, so he was gone by the time I went outside. There’s a tree that’s got a good vantage of the approach. I’ll put a camera there, too.”
“His faceless face freaks me out. Every fucking time.” Now that I know how deftly Sorensen will handle the situation, my fear drains away, only to be replaced by anger.
“He’s disciplined.” The Viking climbs into bed.
“How so?” I move to the opposite side of the bed, contemplating a bad idea.
“He wears a mask even in the dead of the night.”
“Maybe in addition to scaring the hell out of people and keeping his identity a secret, it’s protection from the cold.”
“Maybe.” He lies back and pulls the covers up his chest, but his eyes never leave me. I’m sure he’s wondering what the hell I’m still doing next to his bed.
“Can you keep your hands to yourself?” My tone is accusatory. The best defense is a good offense, and I’m pretty sure that when I float the idea of sleeping together platonically, he’ll reject the idea. Or worse, tease me for wanting to.
“Yeah. Get in, so I can turn out the light.”
Trying to keep my surprise from showing, I drop my blanket on top of the bed and climb in under the layers. For the first time since setting foot in his place, I’m warm enough.
The light goes out, and we’re plunged into deep darkness again.
I’m too restless to sleep. "The man in the mask is the reason I wanted to talk to Riksen. In one of your articles, you mentioned the police found a piece of broken porcelain they think might have come from a dish." Falling silent, I wait.
"And you're wondering whether it could've been a mask? Maybe the one he wore fell off during an abduction, and he didn't have time to collect all the pieces?”
"That's exactly what I was thinking. Did you see the piece they found? Was it thick and shaped like tableware? Or could it have been something else?”
"I never saw it, but I should. As Riksen, I've been in touch with the detectives on the case. I can get a meeting with them.” The bed shifts as he does, and for once, his substantial size is reassuring.
