Lullabies and Lies - By Mallory Kane Page 0,58
cup tilt in her fingers, he leaned over and took the tray. Then he turned off the light on her side of the room.
“I’m not going to sleep.”
He chuckled silently. “I know.”
“Griff?”
“I’m right here.”
“Call the hospital.”
He sent her a wry smile. “I just called a half hour ago.”
“Call again, please? And check with the police, to see if they’ve found anything?”
He took out his cell phone. “Both the hospital and Captain Sparks have promised to call as soon as they know anything at all.”
Her gaze implored him.
He sighed. “Okay, but if I do, you have to sleep. Deal?”
“I’ll try.”
Her eyes drifted closed. Griff doubted she’d have much trouble keeping that promise.
He checked in with the hospital, and found that Bess’s condition hadn’t changed. The nurse told him the same thing. She said they hoped to take her off the ventilator before morning.
Then he called Captain Sparks, apologizing for the time. After he hung up he turned to let Sunny know the meager information the CSI Team had gathered from Bess Raymond’s house, but she’d fallen asleep.
He watched her for a minute, as desire stirred in him. He was getting used to the torture of being so close to her. It was a sweet pain, to want her so badly.
She looked so small, so precious, lying there. He walked over and crouched by the bed, touching the little wrinkle between her brows with his thumb.
She stirred and mumbled something.
He leaned in and kissed her parted lips.
“Griff.” Her mouth moved against his, and he cursed himself for waking her.
“Go to sleep,” he whispered.
She lifted one hand and laid her palm against his cheek, and kissed him, her mouth soft with drowsiness, her breath like a faint breeze against his lips. Then her hand slid down his chest and her head relaxed against the pillow.
Griff closed his eyes and rose, wincing as his jeans rubbed against the sensitized flesh of his arousal.
He wiped his face and sighed, then sat at the desk and switched on his laptop. But his gaze strayed back to Sunny. When this was all over, he’d be able to walk away.
It’ll be enough to see her reunited with Emily, he told himself.
Liar.
128 hours missing
SUNNY AWOKE CURLED into a fetal position, all scrunched up, with her hands fisted. She stretched. Her shoulders ached, her legs and hips were cramped and hurting.
And as soon as she came fully awake, her insides echoed with emptiness and her chest throbbed with pain. Emily. Emily was still gone.
The faint sound of the shower came from the bathroom and through the heavy hotel curtains, she saw a sliver of morning light. Stretching her cramped muscles with a groan, she sat up. Where was she?
The last thing she remembered was the soft brush of Griff’s mouth against hers.
Slowly, the events of the last hours came back to her. She rubbed her burning eyes. She was in a hotel with Griffin Stone. She’d slept all night, thanks to the damn sedative he’d forced on her.
Sedative! Her daughter was missing, and she’d slept through the night. Anger at herself and Griff washed over her like scalding hot water. She had to get up, get dressed. Do something.
She turned over. Judging by the pristine neatness of the bedclothes beside her, Griff hadn’t slept there. The other double bed was unwrinkled, too. Had he stayed up all night?
She glanced around, looking for her suitcase, and her gaze lit on Griff’s laptop. It was turned away from her but she could see the flickering glow from the monitor.
She climbed out of bed and walked around the desk. On the screen was a really nice photo of a dog catching a Frisbee. As she watched, it faded out and a classic photo of the Parthenon in Centennial Park in Nashville appeared.
Fascinated, Sunny sat down. The next photograph was a close-up of a laughing toddler with dark hair and eyes the color of Griff’s.
Sunny studied the photo. Was that Griff when he was little? Sunny shook her head. No, the child’s clothes, and a tiny pink bow in her thick, dark hair proclaimed that she was a girl. His sister?
She didn’t know if he had any family. She didn’t really know anything about him, except that he was good at his job, and somehow he understood her pain. And he was a very generous lover.
The photograph changed again, and this time, the photographer had shot the little girl from about ten feet away. She was eating cotton candy and grinning. Several onlookers were