Mulroney stood in the kitchen clad in a simple navy blue, RHPD t-shirt. This was the first time she’d ever seen him in anything but a suit. The thin cotton clung to his sculpted chest and showed off his corded arms. He’d been hiding some serious guns under there. His biceps practically bulged out the sides. For a moment, she imagined what it would be like to have them wrapped around her body.
He moved to the stove and began flipping pancakes over a griddle like some kind of smoking hot master chef. He must’ve sensed her in the room because he looked up, and his gaze flew to her, taking in every inch of her from head to toe. His perusal lingered on her legs, and her breath caught in her throat. She fumbled with the tie at her waist, self-consciously pulling it closed.
“Good morning, Miss Howe. How did you sleep?” He stared at her as though trying to gauge her mood.
Her face flushed, and she prayed he hadn’t caught her checking him out. “Better than I had a right to, considering the circumstances. I think it must’ve been the scotch and the fact that your bed is extremely comfortable. Uh, what I meant was your guest room bed is comfortable. Obviously, I didn’t sleep in your bed, so I wouldn’t know.” She couldn’t seem to stop rambling.
He chuckled, something she’d never heard him do, and the sound warmed something inside her, putting her at ease. “I can see how awkward this is for you. It doesn’t have to be.”
Nope, not awkward at all.She wasn’t sure which was worse, the rambling or the blushing. She refocused her attention on what was important—Brooke. “I had a vision of Brooke outside in a garden. It could be a park, though. I’m just not sure.”
“I’ll make a note of it, but I’m afraid that doesn’t give us much to go on,” Mulroney said and turned off the griddle.
“Has there been any news about Brooke or Kurt Laurence’s whereabouts?” she asked, sounding anxious.
“If I had to go with my gut, I’d say Lawrence took her away from the city while still close enough to keep his eyes on his empire. He violates the terms of his bail, if he crosses state lines.” He lifted his mug to his lips, and tension rolled off him in waves. “There’s another matter we need to discuss.”
Anxiety clawed at her throat. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“I’m sorry. I should’ve made it clear that this isn’t about Brooke,” he said in a soft voice. “By tweeting, you’ve given Lawrence a motive to keep you quiet and get you out of the way. My captain thinks you should stay here until he’s behind bars.”
Her chest pounded hard from the determination in his voice. “Stay here, with you?” She knew they were sexually attracted to each other, even if neither of them would admit it aloud, but now, he was asking something entirely different. “I don’t think so. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for everything, but I’ve put you out enough.”
His gaze roamed her face. “I’m sorry, Miss Howe, but this isn’t up for discussion.”
“Even if I exposed him, what makes you think he’d send someone after me? I’d think having the cops and the MBI chasing after him for kidnapping would be enough to keep him busy. And what he did to Salem…” She looked away, her gaze catching on the orange and pink ribbons of light streaming in from the dining room windows. Her cat used to love curling up in front of her windowsill to warm her little body. She squinted and glanced back at Mulroney, hoping her expression didn’t reveal how lost she felt inside. “I assumed he did it to scare me. I get what you’re saying, but there must be another option.”
Mulroney lifted his mug to his lips and her eyes darted to his white-knuckled grip. He was nervous. The question was why. What wasn’t he telling her?
“My guess is it’s only a matter of time before he sends one of his thugs to keep you quiet. This may not be your ideal plan, but it’s the one we’re going with for now. We can use it in our favor to draw him out.”
Their eyes locked in a battle of wills. “Are you planning to use me as some kind of bait to catch this maniac?”
His eyes softened. “I can assure you you’ll be protected at all times. A uniformed officer will be keeping an eye on you this morning. My preference would be for it to me, but I have a meeting at the MBI offices right after I drop you off at work. I should know more then.” After Mulroney scooped a heaping pile of pancakes in a casserole dish, he placed them in the warming tray. “That’s right, I have no car here.” She’d left her beat-up Camry parked at the coven. Luckily, she packed clothing for work today.
“It’s safer if I take you from now on.”
“I need to check my messages.” She walked to the dining room where she left her phone charging and picked it up. Disappointment gripped her. No missed calls or texts from Brooke. She guessed it was wishful thinking on her part. She kept thinking she’d turn up and that this had all been a bad dream. There were a bunch of texts and missed calls from the other girls, but nothing jumped out of her.
“Everything okay?” he called, sounding genuinely concerned.
“No one suspects anything at this point.” She slipped her cell in the pocket of her robe and walked back to the kitchen, resting her hand on the countertop. “What’s the plan?”
“That’s what I want to talk to you about. I thought we could have some breakfast and discuss the matter further. I sent a friend to the market to pick up a few things that I thought you could eat. I figured you’d be hungry.”
Even with his hair sticking up in all directions and a days’ worth of delicious scruff darkening his rugged jaw, he looked sexy as sin. “Starving, actually. I could use some coffee.”
“Please help yourself.” He pointed to a white ceramic mug on the counter, a sugar bowl, and a small container of almond milk.
“Hold on, did you say you sent someone to the grocery store for me?” There were many words to describe Garrett Mulroney, unrelenting, stubborn, sexy, but now she’d have to add thoughtful to the list.
He inclined his head to the side. “Part of keeping you safe means feeding you. It comes with the territory, and since you couldn’t eat anything here, I didn’t have much choice in the matter.”
“Right, thanks.”He’s just doing his job. This isn’t personal, she reminded herself.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, eyeing her skeptically.
“No, it’s just I’m not used to anyone doing things for me.” Aside from the high priestess, Gillian was the mother hen at the coven. She enjoyed taking care of the other girls, cooking for them, and helping out where she could. It made her feel needed. Maybe it was from being an only child and taking care of her mom. “It smells delicious.”
