She sighed. “They so rarely do.”
“So, um, back to this housekeeper—what time will he arrive, leave, et cetera?” Alex asked.
Val laughed. “You take things very seriously.”
“People try to kill me a lot.”
“That must get irritating,” she said casually. “When I’m in residence, Raoul comes early and leaves quickly. He won’t even wake you. He’s good.”
“I’ll just lock the door, then.”
“If you like.”
“We’re not sleeping in tomorrow, Ollie,” Kevin interjected. “There’s a lot to get set before we act, and I don’t want to waste more time.”
“Give her the one morning off,” Daniel insisted. “She’s been driving all night for a week, sleeping in the back of cars. She needs rest.”
Kevin made a disgusted face. “She’s not a child, Danny. The big kids have work to do.”
“It’s not a problem,” Alex said quickly. She glanced at the clock on the oven; it was only seven. “I’m crashing now anyway, so I’m sure I’ll be up long before Raoul arrives.”
“I’ll walk you through my inventory, then you can tell me what else you need. I’ve got the video footage of your subject, which I’m sure you’ll want to review, and then—”
“Tomorrow, Kevin,” Alex interrupted. “Now, sleep.”
Kevin inhaled noisily through his nose and rolled his eyes to the ceiling.
Alex almost reached for Daniel’s hand as she left the kitchen. She had to curl her fingers into a fist and hope Kevin hadn’t noticed. It felt unnatural, and she knew Daniel felt it, too. He followed close behind her, almost as if he were thinking about doing something to instigate the conversation—or possible altercation—that she was trying to avoid. Not now, she tried to communicate to him telepathically without turning. She walked faster, but it was a wasted effort. Daniel’s legs were too long for her to build any kind of lead.
She felt much better when she heard him close the door behind him and click the lock into place.
“Thanks,” she said, turning to wrap her arms around his waist.
“Only because we’re exhausted,” he reminded her. “I will be much more tenacious tomorrow.”
She was really dragging, so she went through only the most important parts of the routine. She didn’t want to bother with rebandaging her face, so she decided to let her skin breathe for the night. The wound was still bright red and puckered, and the stitches in her ear—though she’d used a flesh-toned suture thread—were hard to miss. It looked like the two halves of her lobe would rejoin, though. She’d have a nasty scar, but she didn’t want to think about that now.
She thought about setting up the cot in the closet for show but decided to wait till morning. It wasn’t like Kevin was going to do a room inspection. She also considered stringing a gas-canister line around the door. She didn’t think she had the energy, and anyway, an intruder would surely check the master first, if he got past Einstein. She settled for putting her SIG and belt on the bedside table.
Daniel was in the bed before her, but he was still awake.
“Should I leave my rifle out, do you think?” he asked.
“It’s a big room, but probably a little tight for the rifle. I can go grab the shotgun.”
He gave her an exasperated look. “I was joking.”
“Oh. Right.”
He held his arms open for her. She switched off the lamp and climbed into her now usual place. The bed was absurd—some kind of soft, supportive cloud that was probably made from spun gold or unicorn mane.
“Good night, Alex,” he whispered into her hair, and then she was asleep.
? ? ?
SHE WOKE WHILE it was still dark outside; the faint light glowing from around the edges of the shades was the unnatural yellow-green of city lights. She couldn’t see a clock, but she’d guess it was around four. A solid night’s rest and then some. She was glad; today would be long. For years now, all she’d been doing was running and surviving. Now she had to shift into a more proactive mode and she dreaded it. There had been her one uncharacteristic adventure in Texas, but she blamed that on the adrenaline of the moment and the unfamiliar responsibility of having a liability. It wasn’t something she would ever have planned to do.
So when Daniel, woken by her movements, started to kiss her throat, she didn’t mind procrastinating for a bit.
She wondered what it would be like to be a normal person. To be able to expect that mornings like this—waking up with someone you’d chosen—would happen over and over again. To go through the day certain that you’d lie back down at the end of it in the same bed, with that same person next to you. She doubted many people appreciated that certainty when they had it. It would be too much a part of everyday life to them, taken for granted, not something they would think of feeling grateful for.