Her husky whisper was giving him ideas that had to be saved for later. He was already going to be late for work. And he didn’t give a damn. Rick could tease all he wanted. It had been worth it.

“I’ve got to go,” he said, and gave her a quick but firm and branding kiss. “But I’ll be back.”

He rolled off the bed, retrieved his shorts, and had started out the door when he realized she’d remained too silent. It reminded him of what he’d walked in on last night before everything had happened. He turned and stared at the suitcase on the floor and the disarray of souvenirs in plain sight.

“I’ll be here,” she finally answered.

He nodded, satisfied that he’d gotten the answer he needed, and walked away.

It was much later in the day before he realized he’d never finished what he’d started to tell her last night. Yes, he’d told her he loved her. But he’d never asked her to marry him. He’d meant to. But her tears had driven everything out of his mind except regret that he’d made her cry.

He started to pick up the phone and then grinned to himself and dropped it back in its cradle. What’s the matter with you, Brownfield? You can’t propose over a phone. He shrugged and ran his hands through his hair in frustration. He needed to get a grip. There would be plenty of time later.

It was an assumption he shouldn’t have made.

Chapter 10

Thomas Holliday was dead. The news had filtered through Narcotics like bad news always does—fast. And the fact that he was supposed to have committed suicide—in Narcotics, they weren’t buying it.

Thomas Holliday was a thug and a thief and a coward. Cowards did not usually kill themselves. It was more common for someone to do it for them. That led Cole and Rick to suspect that someone on the outside had gotten wind of the fact that Holliday had talked.

“I wonder if Holliday had any visitors?”

Rick’s question echoed a similar one that Cole just hadn’t voiced.

“Maybe it’s time we checked to see,” Cole said.

They headed for the door.

*  *  *

Jackie Warren paced the floor. He didn’t know whether to stay put or run. For the fifth time in as many minutes he went to the window and looked out, half expecting to see a police cruiser pulling up.