I couldn’t risk scaring her off. I needed toshowher why staying with me was the right thing to do.
“Let’s go home,” I said.
She cocked her head. “Home?”
“My place is your home for now. You’re staying with me.”
“I didn’t agree to that.”
“You want to find the Red Ribbon Killer, right? You want to stop him?”
“Yes.”
“Your best bet is for us to work together. I have the resources to help. Money, technology, manpower.”
Plus, I had to keep her safe.
She eyed me. “Okay, I’ll stay with you. But just until we catch him.”
We’d see about that.
CHAPTER 17
LARK
My eyes were blurring.
I rubbed them and sat back on the couch, my legs curled under me. I’d spent another day in Bastian’s penthouse. This time, I’d been working.
The coffee table was covered in files and notes. The laptop screen was filled with articles and electronic files. I was poring over Ed’s life, over everything we had on the Red Ribbon Killer. I put out a few discreet feelers to my network of informants.
Who the hell was this guy?
Ed had connected with him somewhere.
That now-familiar sickening feeling, knowing what Ed had done, rolled through my belly. I’d eventually have to find a way to reconcile my savior with the monster he’d kept hidden. But today wasn’t that day.
Tawnee and Jeff popped into my head and I closed my eyes. Guilt felt like a huge rock balanced on my shoulders. That poor couple hadn’t deserved this.
I sighed and rubbed my eyes.
I’d slept tucked up beside Bastian, once again. I’d half expected him to make a move. A part of me was certainlyinterested in a replay of what we’d done in the kitchen yesterday. But all I’d gotten was a lazy kiss before we’d both fallen asleep. I was shocked about how well I slept with him in the bed. I’d never shared a bed before.
He’d left early to get to his office and deal with what he’d called a mountain of work. It seemed that running a casino kept you busy.
There was a plate of half-eaten pizza resting on the coffee table. He’d appeared at lunch time with a pizza box from the casino’s Italian restaurant. It had been delicious, with a crispy, thin Italian-style crust. He’d gotten very bossy about me eating it and staying hydrated. He’d also bugged me to get up and stretch, occasionally, and to take my painkillers. It turned out, the man was a bit of a mother hen. I hadn’t expected it of the ruthless, stylish assassin.
He’d left a few hours ago for a meeting.
I stretched my neck. It was stiff, so I guess he was right about the stretching. I stretched my legs out. I was wearing a pair of my favorite leggings and another one of Bastian’s shirts. I was thinking about stealing it.
The front door opened, and the man in question strode in. Liquid heat pooled in my belly. He was back in a suit. My gaze traced the lines of his muscular body. “Hey.”
His gaze flicked my way and he shrugged out of his jacket. “Did you drink some water?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes.”
“How’s your stab wound?”
