Secondly, I’d been kidnapped. I tried to ignore that.
Thirdly, I’d been kidnapped. I couldn’t ignore that.
Big, bad, steroid-fuelled guys dragged me out of my car, made me go unconscious somehow and took me someplace I didn’t want to go.
Post-traumatic stress settled in and my hands started shaking.
Lee drove into the underground garage, parked and came around to open my door. We walked to the elevator, Lee’s hand at the small of my back.
We stood together in the elevator. Curiosity and a desire to end the frightening silence made me say, “They did something to make me black out.”
“Stun gun,” Lee replied shortly, his features showing his thoughts were grim.
I started shaking some more. Someone had stun-gunned me.
Holy crap.
I’d never even seen a stun gun before, now one had been used on me.
He let us into his apartment and I followed him into the kitchen. I was mildly surprised when he took a gun out of the back waistband of his jeans and set it on the kitchen counter.
Being the daughter of a cop, guns didn’t scare me. Dad taught me years ago how to respect a firearm. He did this by showing me how to use them, taking me to the shooting range a couple of times a year and lecturing a lot. He was always careful with his guns in the house, what with me, Ally and all of our friends running around. Nevertheless, Lee casually setting a gun on the kitchen counter like it was a pizza cutter was a trifle frightening.
Then he turned and opened his mouth to speak.
Or, by the look on his face, perhaps roar.
Before he could get a word in, I threw up both of my hands, waving around the ice bag.
“Don’t start!” I yelled and let the trembling take over my body just as I felt tears sting the backs of my eyes.
Definitely delayed reaction.
To keep from crying, or collapsing, I started shouting.
“Oh. My. God! I’ve just been stun-gunned and kidnapped and hit in the face by a guy! And it hurt!” Lee closed his mouth and started toward me but I threw out my arm to ward him off. “No, no, no! Don’t come near me!” He stopped and crossed his arms on his chest.
I paced to the sink, and then back, then to the sink, and so on, holding the ice to my cheek with one hand and waving the other one around in the air, the whole time babbling.
“I mean, this is unreal! Rosie’s disappeared and he’s half-idiot so who knows where he is. I’ve been shot at, stun-gunned, pulled out of bed in the middle of the night by my ankle! There’s a million dollars worth of diamonds out there and that dude wanted to have a chat with me about them. I don’t know anything about them. I haven’t even seen them! What’s worse, I think Grandpa Munster has the hots for me and I think you’ve just done something that makes me owe you another favor, which does not make me happy.” I took a breath and continued. “Not to mention, I’m dog-tired. I’ve not been able to have my nap yet today and last, but definitely not least, I’m starving because I had cupcakes for lunch! Cupcakes!”
I’d stopped my tirade standing in the middle of his kitchen, my arms straight down, my hands clenched into fists, the ice bag dripping and I was trying not to cry. I’d been brought up by a man without a wife who loved me to death but also wanted a boy. Crying wasn’t something that was tolerated. Crying was sissy.
I took a shaky breath to control my emotions and I think my bottom lip may have trembled. Lee assessed that the shouting was over and took a step toward me, grabbed the bag of ice, threw it in the sink and slid his hands around my waist.
“Cupcakes?” he asked.
I hauled in another shaky breath.
“Yes, cupcakes.”
The wrinkles next to his eyes creased.
“We need to get you some food.”
I nodded in agreement.
His grim thoughts were gone and so was his anger. His face had changed, the tightness relaxed, something entirely different there.
One of his hands went to my temple by where Terrible Teddy socked me in the face and Lee tucked my hair behind my ear. Then he let his hand rest against my hair with his thumb splayed and gentle on the underside of me cheekbone. His gaze rested on my cheek for a couple of beats then he looked in my eyes.
“First, maybe we should do the nap,” he said quietly.
I ignored his soft touch and his words, which held a little promise of what might happen before or after the nap (or both).
I’d had enough.
I needed a bottle of red wine and a darkened room and the Disco Nap to beat all Disco Naps. And not one that happened with Lee next to me, preferably one that happened with Lee not even in the same state as me.
“I’d like to go home please,” I requested, trying to sound calm and rational, over my tirade and unaffected by his intimate gesture.
He changed the subject.
“I told you this morning to stay in the condo,” he said this with just a hint of soft menace but more accepting-yet-frustrated-annoyance (yes, I could read all this in his tone, I’d known Lee a long time).