The blond man shook his head. “Not for me. I’m taking Izzy out for dinner.”
“I’m in.” Parker accepted the offer without being asked.
“Ava?” asked Dom.
No way she was eating the neighbor’s infamous beef stew. “No thanks. I’m thinking of turning vegetarian.”
Dominic’s lips quirked. “And give up chicken wings?”
She gave a reluctant laugh, and some of the lingering tension eased away. “Maybe not. But I’m not hungry. Go ahead and eat.”
Dominic went into the kitchen, and they all strung along behind him. Ranger was dancing excitedly under his feet. Ava saw what happened like some slow-motion Rom-Com disaster. Dominic put on an oven glove and retrieved the casserole dish awkwardly with his one good arm. Then he turned, tripped over the dog, and knew he was going down. He lobbed the casserole dish so that it wouldn’t hit Ranger who yelped in confusion and shot out of the way as Dominic crashed hard to the floor. The casserole dish shattered. Stew went everywhere.
Ava rushed to where Dominic lay writhing on the floor.
“Are you okay?” She clutched his good shoulder, and his hand grabbed hers as he rolled onto his back, gasping for breath, gripping his ribs with his elbows, clearly in pain. He squeezed her fingers so hard she winced.
Under the blackened bruises, his skin was milky pale, eyes scrunched up and watering.
“Jesus, Dominic, say something. Do I need to call an ambulance? Did you break a rib?”
Then his shoulders started shaking, and he started to wheeze.
“Are you okay? Speak to me dammit before I smack you.”
Finally, a shout of laughter erupted, and he let go of her hand to wipe the tears from his eyes. “You’d make a terrible nurse.”
“Did you break anything?” she asked urgently.
“Suzanna’s fucking casserole dish. Now I’ll have to buy her another one. Help me up, Agent Kanas, and then I’ll show you to a spare room you can use in the short-term until we figure out what the hell is going on.”
The dog started to lick up the stew.
“There’s broken glass in there,” Ava warned sharply.
Frazer caught Ranger by the collar and dragged him away. “Come on, boy.”
Dominic looked up at Rooney from his prone position on the floor. “Stew’s off the menu. How about some homemade soup?”
Chapter Thirteen
Every muscle in Dominic’s body hurt. Every nerve, every bone, every sinew. It was getting worse rather than better, and no way was he taking anything stronger to numb the pain. The epidemic of opioid addiction scared him far more than any temporary discomfort.
He and Ava Kanas had spent most of the early evening going over the reports on the other agents’ deaths looking for commonalities. The only thing they found in common was the fact they were now all dead. In terms of cases worked by the New York squad there were hundreds of instances where they’d all worked together to some degree. The FBI tended to do takedowns in overwhelming numbers as a deterrent against criminals thinking they stood a chance of escaping and to crush the will to fight back. It was a tactic that worked.
He and Ava had kept everything strictly polite and professional and had both been as uncomfortable as hell. She was set up at the opposite end of a long work table the previous owners had left in the basement.
His gaze kept drifting to her. Intelligent eyes narrowed in concentration. Shiny brown hair loose around her shoulders rather than tied up in its ubiquitous bun. She wore a baggy cable sweater with tight jeans. Her Glock-22 sat on the table beside her computer. A reminder she wasn’t here for a social visit.
Dominic did not want to be shadowed by anyone. He was a loner by nature—he had a feeling Ava was too. He didn’t want to waste Bureau resources protecting him when there were other people in greater danger. Chances were his would-be attacker had left the area and if they hadn’t, they sure as hell would bail if Dominic were surrounded by a bunch of HRT meatheads in Kevlar.
He wanted to catch this bastard not have him run away. But he couldn’t do it alone right now. Hell, he couldn’t even drive. So, he was stuck in close proximity to a woman he found increasingly attractive, a woman who seemed to like him a hell of a lot less than he liked her—which was a good thing, he told himself.
He was supposed to be making a list of everyone he remembered working with at NYFO, but he couldn’t concentrate with the other agent in the room. Maybe he was tired. He touched the bridge of his nose which was now as black as his eye sockets. He looked like a goddamn raccoon—made worse by the lack of sleep.
“Want a drink?” He nodded toward the fully stocked bar. The previous owners had also left a pool table and darts board down here. Not to mention the fully functional cinema with seating for eight.
Ava looked up from her computer where she was casting an eye over the lists of cases he’d helped work on at NYFO to see if anything jumped out. Perhaps Van had mentioned a particular defendant and the list might jog her memory. Basically, they were clutching at straws.
“No. Thanks. Better keep a clear head. Just in case.”
Just in case some UNSUB decided to take another crack at him—and she what? Threw herself in front of a bullet to save him? Hell, no. Not happening, but he figured it would be better if she didn’t realize that.
She’d gone back to her apartment and grabbed some belongings. Who knew how long it would take to catch this bastard. At least his home had good security. He’d drawn all the blinds to prevent them becoming easy targets for a sniper upstairs, but here in the basement they didn’t need to worry.
“You can have one beer—”
“I know you don’t think much of me, SSA Sheridan.” Those eyes of hers narrowed to laser points of disapproval.
Dominic opened his mouth to argue, but she spoke over him again.