By Request Collection April-June 2016. Оливия Гейтс

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By Request Collection April-June 2016 - Оливия Гейтс


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to just propose that they finish what they’d started in that alley. Better still, he could shove the pizza aside, pluck her out of that chair and do what he’d wanted to do since they’d walked into her apartment.

      Except that wasn’t what he was making a case for right now.

      “Why don’t you help me put Patrick Lightman back in jail?”

      She narrowed her eyes, studying him. “Why do I have to go to the castle to do that?”

      “Because I’m having all the FBI’s files on him delivered up there. My current assignment at work is to review all of the RPK cases and find something that will allow us to charge Lightman again. Cam has been bugging me to go up there and get a feel for the intruder who may come back. So my proposition is—come with me to the castle and help me find what I need in the files.”

      “Are you serious?”

      “I am. I can work there just as easily as I can work in my office at Quantico. My boss thinks it’s a great idea, and your boss will be happy if you’re safe and out of the public eye for a bit.”

      She frowned at him. “You’ve put a sugar coating on it, but it sounds like you want to whisk me off to the castle so that you can babysit me.”

      He met her eyes very steadily. “I don’t think that you can afford to take what happened this morning lightly. To pull off what he did, he had to have stalked you. And I don’t think he’s through yet.”

      “Scaring me is not going to work.”

      “You’ve made that clear.” He selected another slice of pizza, and leaning back in his chair, stretched out his legs. They nearly reached the back of the couch. “You know this place reminds me of a dollhouse.” He chewed a bite of his slice, then said, “And you eat like a doll. Don’t you like pizza?”

      She picked off a mushroom and popped it into her mouth. “I love pizza. But when I’m playing the role of jury I like to give the argument my full attention.”

      “Okay, scaring you is the stick part of my strategy. The carrot part is that I really want you to work with me on the RPK files. You found things in the trial transcript and in the case files that got Lightman off. That means you have a damn good eye. I saw the proof of that right here this morning. Thanks to you, I think I found the bag the guy used to carry in a brand-new sheet from Macy’s.” He elaborated on the search Nelson was doing. “I could really use your help. There’s something in one of the cases that I’m missing. And I want Lightman back in a cell.”

      So did she. “I’m not ashamed of the work I did on the case.”

      “I wouldn’t be either. Under all the bombast and drama, Abe Monticello serves an important function in the justice system, and in the end all of us will be safer. You did your job and you did it well.”

      He could make her feel so many things. The approval in his tone triggered warmth that intensified when their fingers linked again. She felt the pull, the same one she’d felt when their hands had connected on the hood of his car. Her gaze shifted to his mouth, and she felt the pull even stronger than before. They were alone. All she had to do was lean across the table, close the small distance between them, and she could feel more—more than anyone had ever made her feel. And there was more that he could make her feel.

      Here. Now. She simply couldn’t prevent those words from coming to mind every time he was this close.

      “There’s a connection between us,” Duncan murmured.

      There was definitely something between them. She glanced down at their joined hands. She could try to pull her hand away. She might be able to. She might not. He might let her, but he might not. Each possibility brought a separate thrill.

      Here. Now.

      She met his eyes and saw that he was thinking the same thing. All one of them had to do was make that small move. But she saw something else she recognized, because it matched exactly what she was feeling. Wariness.

      Watching each other, they drew their hands back at the same time.

      Duncan closed his fingers around his wineglass. “If you agree to come to the castle with me, we can explore the connection. Or not. No pressure. That part’s up to you. Bottom line, I’d really like your help.”

      Piper was surprised that her hand didn’t tremble when she used it to lift her glass. She needed a sip of wine because her throat had gone dry as dust. He was going to leave whatever was going on between them up to her?

      Maybe. She wasn’t sure she entirely trusted him on that score. As far as no pressure went … there was pressure each time she looked at him.

      Duncan leaned forward. “I’ve never made a case to a jury before. What’s the verdict? Will you go with me to the castle?”

      She had her mouth open, ready to answer when footsteps pounded on the staircase outside. Duncan was already at the door when someone knocked.

      When he opened it, all she could see beyond Duncan’s large frame was the face of her visitor, and she recognized it immediately. “Mr. Findley.” She crossed to the door. “Duncan, this is Mr. Findley. He runs the coffee shop across the street.”

      “A deliveryman left these with me earlier today. I promised I would bring them up when you got home. But I wanted to wait until the reporters finally gave up and went away.”

      “Thanks.” But it wasn’t until Duncan turned that she saw roses. They were bright red and arranged in a glass vase. Fear knotted in her stomach.

      Mr. Findley was already retreating down the stairs as Duncan closed the door.

      “Those are not from the RPK,” Piper said. “They’re from whoever set up that little scene this morning. And he’s beginning to annoy the hell out of me.”

      Duncan took a vellum card out of an envelope and held it out to her.

      THE NEXT TIME YOU’LL BE THE ONE LYING BENEATH THE PETALS. THESE PERHAPS.

      “The person who sent this note could be just as dangerous,” Duncan said.

      “I don’t want to run away from this. I want to catch him and make him pay.”

      Duncan set the flowers down, then turned to face her. The anger she saw in his eyes was such a close match to her own that some of her tension eased.

      “We’re going to catch him,” he said. “He’s already making mistakes. He left behind that Macy’s bag, and he used a florist for this. Mike Nelson will check it out. In the meantime, why not play with his mind the way he’s trying to play with yours?” he asked. “Just think of what he’ll feel like if you’re not here to get the next message or flower delivery. If you come away with me to the castle, it’s going to annoy the hell out of him.’’

      She studied him for a moment, but the decision had been made. “You’re damn good at making a case, Sutherland. I’ll pack a bag.”

      AT FIRST PIPER WASN’T SURE what had awakened her. Not Donald Duck, a fact she discovered when her hand whacked the flat top of the nightstand. And she couldn’t see a thing. The lights from the street always filtered in through her bedroom curtains.

      By the time her mind had slogged its way through the missing alarm clock and the pitch blackness that surrounded her, lightning flashed outside and the brief illumination chased away her disorientation.

      She was in her bedroom at Castle MacPherson. Thunder rumbled. Rain splatted.

      Ah, the sounds of home, she thought. Turning on her side, she angled her head toward the windows so that she could see the lightning sparkle and dance across the sky. Nature’s fireworks.

      For better or worse, she’d let Duncan talk her into coming here. And he hadn’t wasted any time doing it. He’d called Aunt Vi to let her know they were coming, and his suitcase and golf clubs had already been in the trunk of his car when he’d finessed


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