Point of Danger (Triple Threat #1) - Irene Hannon Page 0,33

it was tight and locked the door.

“Cate looks tired.” Grace carried their plates to the sink.

“I imagine undercover work brings a whole new level of stress to the job.” Eve gathered up the empty food containers. “I hope coming here didn’t put her in any danger.”

“I got the impression she had it covered. So . . . what were your plans for the evening before Cate and I descended?”

“Stripping floors.”

“Oh.”

At Grace’s obvious dismay, Eve grinned. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to ask you to help me. How long were you planning to stay?”

“About another hour.”

“Why don’t we make a Ted Drewes run?”

Her sister brightened. “Now you’re talking. I can already taste that marshmallow concrete.”

“Give me five minutes to change out of my spinning clothes.”

“No worries. I can respond to messages while I wait.”

Eve headed for the hall, heart lighter, as Grace slid onto a stool, fingers already working the keyboard on her cell. She wouldn’t get much done on her floors tonight, but an outing for frozen custard with her sister was exactly what she needed to lift her spirits.

Yet the fact that both Grace and Cate had felt compelled to stop by was unsettling. Despite Cate’s tendency to shift into protective mode, both she and Grace were levelheaded and not inclined to overreact.

Conclusion? Their impromptu visit suggested that worry—and caution—were warranted.

However . . . it was possible that once she weathered this latest attack, her tormentor would give up.

Either that, or resort to more extreme measures. Ones that could actually produce physical harm.

She shuddered as she pulled a pair of shorts and a T-shirt from her dresser.

Maybe she ought to think about forking out the money for personal security after all. The cost might not be as outrageous as she expected.

But letting this guy put a dent in her budget, allowing him to impact her life in a material way, would give him a victory of sorts.

That didn’t sit well.

On the other hand—it wouldn’t hurt to call and get prices tomorrow in case she caved.

And since Brent could probably recommend a firm, that gave her a legitimate excuse to call him.

Her spirits took another uptick.

She finished dressing and slipped on a pair of flat sandals, a smile playing at her lips.

Much as she’d enjoy this outing with Grace, wouldn’t it be fun to visit St. Louis’s iconic custard stand with Brent?

But she had to get through this crisis first. There’d be time to think about the future afterward.

Assuming there was a future.

Expelling a breath, she picked up her purse. That dark thought needed to be banished ASAP.

Yet hard as she tried to shake it off, an unsettling sense of jeopardy hovered at the edges of her consciousness, clinging as persistently as the oppressive humidity of a St. Louis summer day.

8

WATER BREAK.” Adam Moore stopped, pulled the bottle off his waist pack, and took a long gulp.

Brent followed his best friend’s example. Running in this heat without adequate hydration was dangerous, even if they had waited until after the sun set to log a few midweek miles.

They drained their bottles in silence.

“You’ve been quiet tonight.” Adam slid his empty bottle back into place.

“Long day.”

“Transitioning to a new job is always rough. They give you any interesting cases yet?”

“Yeah. Did you hear about that fake bomb someone left at a local radio show host’s house?”

Adam stared at him. “You’re working the Eve Reilly case?”

“I was the closest detective when the call came in last Friday. I take it you’ve been following the media coverage?”

“Hard not to. The press has been all over the story.” He propped his hands on his hips. “That’s a high-profile assignment for a rookie.”

Brent coaxed out a few more drops of liquid and stowed his bottle. “After ten years as a cop, I’m not exactly new to law enforcement.”

“You’re new to the detective ranks.” Adam swiped off a bead of sweat tracking down his temple. “So tell me about Eve Reilly. Is she as dynamic in person as she is on the radio?”

That was not a topic he wanted to discuss.

“Yes. Let’s run.” He took off, leaving Adam no choice but to follow. If he picked up the pace, maybe his once-a-week running partner would focus on pounding the pavement and forget about conversation.

His buddy caught up to him in a few strides. “Why don’t you want to talk about her?”

So much for any hope of avoiding that subject.

Time for evasive maneuvers.

“I’m happy to talk about her—but I’ve only seen her twice. Why are you interested in