Explosive Attraction - By Lena Diaz Page 0,30
DEA guy. She needs a bomb tech. You wouldn’t know a mercury switch from a radio-controlled detonator.”
“True.” Nick shrugged. “But I have other talents.” He grinned, and Darby felt her face grow warm.
“When’s your girlfriend getting here?” Rafe asked, his voice sounding aggravated. “If I knew it would take this long I would have switched cars with Lance instead.”
Nick stood and leaned against the wall. “Kitty’s not my girlfriend. She’s DEA. We’re working a case. Speaking of work, why couldn’t you take one of the loaners from the station? Are they too cheap to give you a car these days? What about the impound lot?”
“I wanted a car with muscle, that no one who knows me would recognize.” Rafe didn’t look at Nick when he said that.
All signs of amusement faded from Nick’s face. “Why are you worried someone might recognize the car you’re driving? The only people who’d know those police loaners or your impound inventory are...” His voice trailed off and he looked at Darby as if he wasn’t comfortable speaking in front of her anymore.
Taking the hint, she pushed up from the table and grabbed the cordless phone Nick had just used. “If you two don’t mind, I’ll go in the other room and call my assistant. I need to arrange a meeting with her so she can bring me a few things.”
Both men nodded, obviously relieved to have a few moments alone.
She left the kitchen and headed into the adjoining family room, crossing to the far side so she could give the men more privacy.
A small scattering of pictures on a metal and glass bookshelf caught her attention. From the looks of it, Rafe and Nick came from a large family. There were several group photos, featuring Rafe and Nick smiling and posing at what looked to be family get-togethers. Most of the pictures were taken outside—boating, fishing, picnicking at the beach.
Even Rafe was smiling in most of the pictures. One smaller photograph, off to the side, showed him and a leggy, beautiful blonde who almost matched him in height. From the way they were looking at each other, she had no doubt who the woman was—Shelby Morgan, the wife he’d lost over a year ago.
Seeing how happy he’d been in the pictures had Darby wishing she’d had the chance to get to know him before he’d changed. Because of his cold demeanor at the courthouse, she’d always assumed he was suffering from survivor’s guilt, because his wife had died and he’d survived. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized she hadn’t seen him smile much even before his wife’s death. When had he changed from the happy man in these pictures to the man he was today? Two years, longer? If losing his wife hadn’t changed him, then what had?
Moving to the sliding glass doors that looked out over a retention pond with a fountain in the middle, she punched Mindy’s cell number into the phone. Mindy answered on the first ring.
“Dr. Steele, Darby, is that you?” Her voice sounded frantic, making Darby flinch with guilt. Buresh had called Mindy the day she and Rafe were admitted to the hospital, and Rafe had spoken to her when he’d asked her to pack Darby some clothes, but she now realized she should have called Mindy herself, to reassure her.
“Yes, Mindy, it’s me. I’m sorry I haven’t called.”
“Oh, my gosh. I was so worried. I didn’t know what to do. Are you okay? Are you coming back to work? I canceled your appointments through tomorrow, but I wasn’t sure—”
“Take a breath. Calm down. Everything is going to be fine, but I can’t go back to work just yet.”
“Just yet? What does that mean? Is that man still after you? What are you—”
“Mindy, Mindy, please listen for a minute. I promise you I’m fine. The police are being cautious and keeping me in hiding until they get this guy. You did the right thing by canceling my appointments, but I need you to cancel a few more, at least through the end of the week. I’ll need all of my files for my current clients. Most of my regulars should be okay missing this week, but there are a few I’d worry about if they miss even one appointment. I need to refer them out to other psychologists. Plus, I need some other files, older ones. Are you writing this down?”
“Oh, shoot. Hang on, I’ll get a pen.”
Darby stepped back to the bookshelf, unable