She raised her head, propping her chin on her hands to meet his gaze. “‘Soul meets soul on lovers’ lips.’”
He ran a finger down her spine. “You’re quoting Shelley?”
“It seems to fit.” Her smile was nothing short of radiant. “You know the quote.”
“I do.”
“You consistently surprise me, Riley.”
He combed his hand through her hair. “Same goes, Abby.”
She pulled the covers over them and snuggled next to him. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me, too.” He pressed a kiss to her hair and listened to the simple perfection of her breath until she fell asleep.
Chapter Fourteen
Saturday, December 3, 6:40 a.m.
Abby slipped from the bed, careful not to disturb Riley. He was sprawled facedown across the mattress, the tangled sheets leaving him more exposed than covered. Of all her recent challenges, exiting the bed proved the most difficult.
With a wistful sigh, she kept moving. She’d make it up to him later. Tonight, after they had the terrorist in custody, they could celebrate. They could even go down to the park and join the fun of a successful opening day of the Christmas Village.
She found dark jeans and a sweater and dressed in the guest room so she wouldn’t wake him. Then she wrote him a note and left it on her pillow. If she was lucky, this would all be over before he realized she was gone.
Optimism was a good thing.
* * *
WHEN RILEY HEARD Abby leave the house he opened his eyes. Rolling over, he stared at her bedroom ceiling, only moving after he heard the low rumble of her car engine. Still he waited until the noise faded before he rolled out of the bed.
He supposed he should be flattered she trusted him enough to leave him alone in her house. This was, after all, the opportunity he’d wanted since arriving in Belclare. He reclaimed his clothing and dressed quickly, pausing just long enough to read the apologetic note that said she’d been called to the station on an emergency.
Yes, he’d been sleeping deeply with her supple body in his arms, but he knew her phone hadn’t made any of the obnoxious sounds she’d programmed for police business. In between rounds of lovemaking, she’d made a point of putting it on the charger next to the bed.
So, if not official business, where had she run off to so early? He didn’t like the answers that immediately came to mind. Last night he’d suspected she had made a move of some sort in hopes of thwarting the enemy. Now, he was certain she was up to something she didn’t want anyone else to know about. Fastening his watch, he checked the time. Two hours before the official opening of the Christmas Village.
He did a quick search on his way out. In the kitchen he found another note inviting him to help himself to coffee and whatever else he wanted and asking him to lock up as he left. Eggs and toast weren’t his primary concern. He wanted her to tell him what she was up to.
He suppressed the sinking feeling in his gut as he violated her privacy and opened the laptop she’d left on the kitchen table, but it had to be done. Keeping her safely in her post as Belclare’s police chief was his first order of business.
Finding the email requesting a meeting with the sleeper cell leader landed like a punch to the gut and his breath stalled in his chest. Irrational as it was, temper and a strange hurt surged through him. He knew she didn’t trust him completely, and he even understood why. But to take this step without any backup was desperate. The terrorist leader would cut her down without a second thought and use her death as a cautionary tale to others who would try to prevent further operations.
He closed her computer and locked up her house, darting across the driveway to his place. He fought his first instinct to don the tactical gear and weapons stashed behind the wall in the bedroom closet—that wasn’t the answer.
Instead, mustering his operational calm, he changed into jeans and a thermal shirt. He shrugged into a shoulder holster and checked the load on his 9mm. Covering the gun with a thick chamois shirt, he headed downstairs for his boots and down vest. He’d think of a reason to explain his return visit to the Christmas tree lot on the way.
Chapter Fifteen
Abby chose a spot close to the entrance of the Lewiston tree lot, not surprised her car was the only one in the parking area. She’d decided on this location because of the family and because it gave her enemy the illusion of several ways in and out.
The chicken-wire fencing didn’t offer much in the way of a challenge or a deterrent to trespassers. Though they’d never suffered a threat or lost property, the Lewiston family maintained an armed watch on the lot 24/7. One of them would be around, watching.