“You’ll fix it?” she turned and stared at him, incredulous. “How will you fix it? How will you get that little boy to trust me?”

“He’ll trust you again,” he promised. “He wants to trust you. He needs to trust you. He sure as hell can’t trust his mother. He’ll turn back to you. And he won’t be going anywhere. I’ll take care of Janet Crane.”

Anne arched a brow. “Take care of? That sounds like something a gangster would say.”

“Well, I am from Chicago, but I promise I only work on the right side of the street.”

“Don’t try to be amusing,” she snapped. “I’m in no mood to be amused.”

“Sorry.”

“And what makes you think you can stop Janet Crane from doing something if she’s made up her mind?” she demanded, jamming her hands on her hips.

“I don’t think I can. I will,” he said. “Janet Crane has a lot, which means she has a lot to lose. Her status, for instance. Her standing in the community. I have the ability to make those things go away simply by having a conversation with a reporter.”

Anne’s eyebrows went up. He meant it. Seriously.

“I owe you,” he said. “Besides, people can’t mess with people I like. And she can’t screw with me because she’s got no currency with me. She’s got nothing to threaten me with. I’ve got the big stick, and I’ll use it.”

Anne thought about that for a moment. She had never had anyone rush to defend her before, let alone promise annihilation of the enemy. And she had no doubt that he would do exactly what he said. His expression was just this side of fierce. He radiated power. She felt a little like she had poked a stick at a lion.

“Let me see you home,” he said, dialing down his intensity a notch.

“I’m capable of driving myself home,” Anne said.

“I’m well aware you’re capable,” he said, brows lowered over his dark eyes. “I would feel better seeing you home. You’re upset. You’re not going to be paying attention. There’s still a killer on the loose. Now that I’ve fucked up—pardon my French—your relationship with your student, making sure you’re safe seems like the least I can do. Is that all right with you?”

Without examining her reasons too closely, Anne handed him her car keys.

Chapter 46

46

Anne led the way up the sidewalk to the home she had grown up in, a sturdy Craftsman-style house of dark painted wood and stone. Soft amber lights flanked the front door. Rosebushes lined the front walk. The roses glowed white in the moonlight.

Vince followed her up the steps, admiring her behind in a pair of blue jeans. “You live here alone?”

“With my father. He allegedly needs a keeper.”