“Great idea,” she said. He lobbed the bag of peas to her, which she easily caught. “I’m sure there’s another one in the freezer.”
“Big pea eaters in this house?” Somehow, he’d found a way to use the existence of frozen peas in her house to ask if she was living with someone. Impressive.
“I’ve been known to like a pea or two.”
“Do you live alone?” Good to know. If subtly doesn’t work, the Fed came right out and asked. Eyelids lowered, he peered at her, pretending to be jealous, yet he was clearly making a joke out of it, and just as clearly wanted an answer. It was laughable. They barely knew each other, for one thing, and for another, it wasn’t his damn business. Yes, he was sexy as sin, and yes, in an alternate universe where Dante wasn’t desperate to kill her she’d jump Vincent’s bones and stay in bed for a weekend, living off love. But life wasn’t that simple. She owed Vincent nothing. Certainly, not the truth.
“My boyfriend won’t be home until later, if that’s what you’re asking. And yes, he’s jealous, and yes, he won’t like that you’re in my apartment, but I think I’ll be able to keep him from killing you if you keep your promise and walk away after lunch.” Nothing makes a man bail faster than being disqualified as a bed mate. Do you live alone? She wondered if he interrogated all new acquaintances this way. “You done with your coffee?” She didn’t wait for an answer, but rather went to the door and opened it. “You said you’d feed me, and no, I don’t consider a bag of frozen peas food.”
Vincent glanced at the bag she continued to clutch. “You taking that with you?”
“Why? Will it embarrass you to be seen with me holding it?” Not that she cared. Her knuckles had swollen so much her rings were pinching.
“No.” He walked to the door and motioned with a hand, indicating she step through first.
Avery didn’t move. Not until she took one last look around the apartment. She and Millie had made a life here. This was where they’d schemed and planned for the day when fear was behind them, and freedom was something they could take for granted. They’d survived here, hadn’t had much of a life, but it was theirs, cheap and shabby though it was…
She wouldn’t miss it.
Clutching the frozen peas, she walked out and used the banister to ease the weight off her bum knee. Though her descent wasn’t pretty, it was at least under her own steam, and lots less painful than being lifted. A glance behind her caught Vincent staring at her ass. An ass man. She felt relief, because that meant he wanted her, and his pursuit was about getting in her pants, not her head. Oddly enough, knowing that allowed her to enjoy his gaze. It felt like a caress, and sent arousing tingles throughout her body. The man had the naughtiest smile.
“You seem jumpy.” He kept pace with her down the stairs, looking lazy and patient. Happy, apparently, to while away his time checking out her ass.
She reached the bottom of the stairs, opened the front door, and turned off the stairwell lights. “You have that effect on a woman.”
Before stepping out onto the sidewalk, she scanned the street, automatically searching for familiar faces…faces that didn’t belong in North Conway. It was a habit she’d developed over the years, but now that her face was probably all over social media, it became more important than ever to remain vigilant. Dante’s men would find her here, the only question was, when?
She pressed the peas to her swollen knuckles, knowing it was past time to get out of Dodge. She stepped out onto the sidewalk and waited for Vincent to close the door behind them.
“Food.” She was dying of starvation. Vincent used his hand to indicate the bistro seating of the Chinese restaurant next door. Though pleased with his choice, because it would be quick, she worried it wouldn’t be quick enough. Her bus was leaving in a half an hour.
He pulled out a black cast iron chair from beneath a small, intricately designed cast iron table. “Sit. I ordered when you were in the shower. Hope you’re in the mood for General Ghau’s chicken.”
She was. The restaurant door opened as Avery sat and Vincent sat across from her. Wan Gamon, the daughter of the restaurant’s owner and Avery’s landlord, carried a takeout bag under her arm and clutched two glasses filled with iced water. She was smiling, petite, her dark hair in a low ponytail, and she wore a Boston Red Sox cap. “Hey, Patty.”
“Hey, Gamon. How you doing?”
Gamon placed the food and drinks on the table. “Heard about the ruckus at the diner. People are saying you won a knife fight with a killer?”
Avery laughed, and then rolled her eyes. “I don’t know where you’re getting your information, but no. That didn’t happen.” She showed her cut up neck. “I was terrified. He held a knife to my throat. I didn’t win.” Gamon oohed and awed, looking at Avery’s neck.
“That’s horrible,” Gamon said. “It’s a miracle you lived.”
“It’s a miracle I got a day off for my trouble. You know James. He hasn’t even called me yet, but if it wasn’t a crime scene, you know he’d be on the phone, telling me I was still on the clock.” She smiled, ignoring the odd look Vincent threw her way. He wouldn’t understand why she’d downplay her role in the diner’s troubles. Winning a knife fight with a drugged-out killer would bring her attention. Her one play here was to create conflicting rumors, otherwise, it would be a red flag for her ex-husband. He’d send his goons here to check out the knife-fighting waitress.
Vincent handed Gamon a fifty. “Keep the change.”
“Thank you.” Gamon gave Avery a wink and a nudge, as if she approved of her date, and then disappeared back into the restaurant.
“You certainly impressed Gamon.” Avery threw him a smile, and then opened the bag. She was so hungry her stomach hurt. “Thanks for this. It was shopping day and I was down to canned foods.”
“But do I impress you?” He used his hands to indicate their surroundings. People walked by, ignoring them mostly, and cars passed at a slow crawl. “Only the finest venue.”
“Do you ever not dig for compliments?” She set aside her frozen peas, and pulled chopsticks from the bag, laughing.
He took her implied criticism in the vein it was given, as a gentle ribbing, then saw the chopsticks, and it was his turn to laugh. “Good luck with that.” He pulled two plastic forks from the bag, placing one before her. He was right. Her knuckles were too swollen to manipulate chopsticks.
After she’d devoured a few bites, and her stomach was no longer punishing her for neglect, Avery decided Vincent could satisfy her curiosity, if not her other, more neglected needs. “How come you’re not at the diner with the cops?” she said. “I’d think a Fed would be all over what happened back there, exchanging stories, writing up reports. Isn’t that what men like you get off on? Instead, you’re babysitting the waitress. Two murders, Vincent. This is a small town. They could use your help.” And she could use him gone.
“Sheriff took my statement.” He shrugged. “I’m on vacation, remember? Not in charge, thankfully. The paperwork on this morning’s shit show will take them all night to complete. I’d rather spend this time with you.”
She speared a medallion of chicken with her fork. “You smell like fish, and you’re wearing Jim’s blood. The feeling isn’t mutual.”
He finished chewing his lo mein, and then licked his lips before replying. “If you’d invited me to share your shower, I’d be prettier.”
“Any prettier and you’ll be impossible to be around.” She kept her smile prim when he barked out a laugh.
A carton in one hand, his fork in the other, Vincent’s smile still seemed genuine, but it had grown subdued. “It could have been a hundred times worse back there at the diner,” he said. “You know that. Right?” She nodded, thinking