She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not hungry anymore.”

“Let’s see if I can perk up your appetite.” Before she could anticipate his intent, he leaned down and brushed his lips across her forehead. “Hungrier now?” He hoped his slow smile and intimate tone made it clear his question was about more than pizza.

She gripped the edge of the door as color flooded her cheeks. “Uh . . . yeah. But I’m not certain pizza’s going to satisfy me.”

“We’ll have dessert next Saturday. Lock up.” With a wink, he left her at the door—and didn’t dare look back until he was behind the wheel and the car was in gear.

The door was shut now, but light once more spilled through a crack in the blinds.

She was watching him.

Leaving her alone stunk, but what he’d told her was true. Based on the pattern to date, it wasn’t likely that whoever had her in his sights would return tonight.

Tomorrow was a different story.

And as he sped through the dark countryside toward what promised to be a messy and contentious accident, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the harassment situation with Grace was even messier—and far more liable to explode.

The word Dave uttered would have made Kimberly blush, if she wasn’t already in bed. So different from Saturday nights in the past, when they’d sought out new bands every weekend and danced the night away.

He should have gone directly to his office after meeting with Lorraine and pulled her money from the offshore account.

Instead, he’d taken care of Kimberly’s errands, then coaxed her out to dinner to lift her flagging spirits—giving BK the opportunity to change the login and password and lock him out.

Translation? Lorraine wasn’t going to get her money back, and her days were numbered.

Unless he took action.

Leaning back in the desk chair in his home office, he massaged his temple, where a headache was beginning to throb.

Could he go to the police, bargain with them, agree to cooperate in exchange for leniency? It wasn’t as if he’d known BK was going to kill people, after all. Nothing had been said about that in the beginning. Nor had Fred’s death set off too many alarms. The man had been older.

After stumbling across Mavis’s death notice, however, the niggling suspicion that Fred’s death may not have been as innocent as it seemed had become certainty, especially in light of BK’s responses to his comments about their demise. If he had the stomach to check on the other clients who’d signed up for the investment he’d offered them for BK, he’d no doubt find they too had died . . . of natural causes.

But if he did go to the police, what could he use as a bargaining chip? He had no idea who BK was and no guesses about who was behind the blackmail scheme, other than Lee. But if she wasn’t involved, siccing the cops on her would add insult to injury, and she’d already had more than her share of trouble.