“Thank you for keeping this real,” she said. “You trust me and I’m grateful for that.”
He leaned down, dropped a light kiss on her lips. “One step at a time, right? For now, all I need to know is how do you like your steak.”
She chuffed out a laugh. “Medium.”
After he flipped the meat, she said, “You’re right. I’ve always followed the law, respected the rules that were put in place. The ones that the lawbreakers disregard. If we found the people who killed my brother, I want to believe I’d turn them in. But I don’t know. I’m ashamed to think that I might want to take their lives because they took Doug’s. I took an oath to serve and protect, not break the law myself. This should be cut and dry for me, but it’s not and that worries me.”
He clasped her hand, kissed her palm. “I never said I was going to do anything once I got answers. I only said I wanted to find them. I’ve been searching for the truth for twenty years. Some days, I doubt I’ll ever find it.”
I’m lost. What’s he saying?
He lifted the grill lid, checked the steaks.
“What are you talking about?” she asked.
“Nothing. Wanna eat outside?”
“Are you talking about your mom’s killer?”
A brief sadness flitted across his face. This man fascinated her, yet she knew so little about him. He’d been generous with his time and understanding about her phobia. He’d forgiven her for charging him with a crime he hadn’t committed, and he was mired in his own problems at work.
Step it up and be there for him, like he’s been there for you.
He set the cooked steaks on the spare plate. Ignoring her question, he said, “You okay eating on the porch?”
“Absolutely.”
They returned to the kitchen, plated their meals, and sat side-by-side at the round patio table on his screened porch. “This room is beautiful. I would live out here in the warm months.”
The oversized room was first class all the way. A six-chaired table and fully-stocked bar filled one half of the room, and a gathering space filled the other half. Large, wrought iron chairswith deep cushions flanked a cream sofa that faced the stone fireplace. A large flat-screen TV was mounted on the wall.
“Life is complicated,” he said. “Don’t overthink our conversation. I’m glad you’re here with me.” He tipped the wine glass to his lips and drank.
She dragged her gaze away to slice into her meat. “My steak is perfect.” As she chewed, she mulled if she should press him for information. He was so closed off.
Do it.
“Tell me what happened to your mom.”
He said nothing while he chewed, and swallowed his food down with another mouthful of Chianti. “I invited you over because I wanted to chill with you. We’ve been thrown together to chase a killer. Don’t you want to talk about something else besides—”
“Not really.” She stroked his arm. “I want to talk about something—someone—who matters to you. You’ve been doing nothing but help me. First, with my case, then, my phobia, and then, I threw Doug in because, well, three’s a charm.”
He stayed quiet.
“And let’s not forget all the mayhem happening with your company.” She forked salad into her mouth and paused to eat it. “Like I said, you’re fearless. I admire that about you.”
“You’re pretty damn fearless yourself, Easton.”
* * *
Stryker liked making Emerson smile, especially when he complimented her. Her cheeks flushed and the strong-willed detective softened. He liked both sides of this intriguing woman.
In truth, he didn’t want to talk about his mom. That would only further frustrate him. Spinetti had pissed him off plenty for one day.
“Tell me about your day,” he said.
She regarded him for a few seconds, her gaze floating over his face while she furrowed her brow. “Is this your way of telling me you don’t want to talk about your mom?”
