Chapter 11

Standingat the bay window in Kayla’s kitchen, Cameron sipped from a steaming cup of black coffee. The graphic on the side depicted a sassy, blinged-out chicken with the inscription, This chick’s still got it.

An entire cabinet full of mugs and cups and not one a solid, boring color. The lobbyist had a definite mischievous side. One he’d done his damnedest to ignore. And mostly failed.

If she’d been anyone else, he would have enjoyed giving as good as he got from her. Nothing sexier than a woman with a sense of humor. But with him, she always seemed to be harboring something else beneath the surface of a well-delivered barb.

Meeeoow.

Cup near his mouth, Cameron turned to find the cat with the creepy yellow-green eyes staring at him. She lifted her pert pink nose, with its drop of black in the center, and sniffed the air.

“You like bacon?” He picked up a thin slice cooling on a plate beside the stove. “Is this what you want?”

She rose on her hind legs, stretched her body upward, and placed a soft paw against his knuckle to brace herself.

“Ah ah ah, not so fast.” When he made to pull away, her sharp claws sank into his flesh. Air hissed between his teeth.

Her nails curled deeper.

“Here’s the deal,” he gritted out. “You get the bacon if you tell me one of your mistress’s secrets. Let’s start with?—”

The feline snatched the bacon and ran to the nook housing her food and water bowls.

“You play dirty.” He rubbed the torn flesh on his hand, hoping bacon wasn’t to cats what grapes were to dogs. “Just like she does.” He turned back to the window and let the coffee roll down his throat.

Images from the previous evening flashed through his mind. The devastation on Kayla’s face when he’d found her next to the governor. The pain clouding her beautiful eyes when she awoke after he’d bludgeoned her with his pistol.

His stomach roiled at the thought of having hurt her. No matter how much she annoyed him, he would never have intentionally caused her harm.

Eggs crackling in a pan on the induction stove redirected his attention. Using a spatula, he raised each one to check their level of brown before covering the lot with a lid. By the time he dropped four pieces of multigrain bread in the toaster, Kayla swept into the room.

She wore her long blond hair in a low ponytail and a black business suit with a lavender silk shirt. The air in the room charged to life, and he suddenly felt at a disadvantage with his finger-combed hair, scruffy jaw, and day-old clothes.

Spotting him at the island counter, she stopped short. “What are you doing here?”

“Good morning to you, too.” Her eyes cut from his, as if embarrassed. Or was that nerves he detected? Interesting. “The better question is why are you dressed for work?”

“It’s Friday.”

“Don’t you think it’s too soon to return?”

“No, why?”

“You watched someone you care about die before your eyes, violently. Not to mention the lump on your head.”

“Which you put there.”

He kept his focus, despite her provocation. “Give yourself time to grieve.” To heal.

“Better I go into the office than sit here with my thoughts, twiddling my thumbs.”

“Somehow, I knew you wouldn’t stay home. Have a seat,” he said. “These are almost done.”

On her way to the massive fridge, she paused at the sight of the serving tray sitting on the counter. A fork and knife, napkin, butter, and blueberry preserves already nestled inside.

The area around her eyes softened as her gaze shifted from the tray to him. Her lips parted as if to say something, then the moment passed. She opened the fridge door and pulled out a tumbler filled with something creamy and slightly purple. “I appreciate the gesture, but I drink one of these for breakfast.”

A drink no doubt made of some kind of alternative milk, like oat or almond, fruit, nuts, and a heaping tablespoon of protein powder. He wouldn’t mind having one of those, too.

“Save it for the road. Eat while we wait.”

“Wait for what?”

Ignoring her question, he nestled two eggs and a slice of bacon on a warmed white plate and plucked a lightly toasted bread slice from its slot. He set it on the counter and moved everything from the serving tray to near her place setting.

“Bon appétit.”

She heaved a heavy sigh before sliding onto one of the island chairs. Her stomach growled.

A satisfied smile rippled at the edge of his mouth. “How’s your head?”

“Tender to the touch, but otherwise fine.”

“No headache?”

Instead of answering, which was an answer in and of itself, she said, “I’m fine, Ash. No need to worry.”

Ash.

He didn’t know if it was brain fog from lack of sleep or the novelty of serving her breakfast in her own kitchen, but it seemed to him that she spoke his name with a sweet melody. One he could have replayed, over and over.

Suddenly, inexplicably, he missed hearing his name. Missed being Ash Blackwell.

Why now? Why this woman, this lobbyist?

He was saved from delving any deeper by a sharp rap against the sliding glass door.

Ash stepped over and unlocked the door. Phin slid the heavy glass back, stepped inside, and lifted his nose in the air. “Smells delish.”

“Lock it, then come have a bite before you go.”

“No complaints from me.” Phin smiled at Kayla. “Morning, boss.”

“Would someone tell me what’s going on?”

Setting four eggs and three strips of bacon on a plate in front of Phin, he said, “I got the same reception.”

Phin lifted a brow. “Might have something to do with keeping her in the dark.”

“Her highness just appeared.”

“One more comment as if I’m not sitting here, and I’m throwing you both out and keeping the food for myself.”

Opening the fridge, Ash pulled out a bowl of cut fruit and set it between them. Kayla looked at his offering as if she expected a bug to crawl out of the center. “You’ve been busy.”

“I had a lot of hours to fill.”

“You didn’t sleep?”

He plucked his black evening coat from the back of a chair. “Don’t leave her side today. Text me if you detect anything suspicious.”

“Ten-four.”

“No,” Kayla said, glancing between the two of them. “Absolutely not.”

Grabbing a bacon-to-go for himself, he tossed the last slice to Crispy after confirming she was still breathing. The cat stared at his offering for a full second before deigning to accept.

“Did you just feed my cat bacon?”

“She likes it.”

“I’ll leave tonight’s litter box for you to clean up.”

He pointed his bacon at her. “You either let Phin shadow you today or I talk to Detective Morgan about assigning someone to you. It’ll put an extra burden on a department that’s already criminally underfunded and understaffed, but?—”

“I don’t need anyone following me around like a duckling.”

“Hey!” Phin grumbled around a mouthful of eggs.

“Protection,” Ash corrected.

“I have a full schedule today, as does Phin, I’m sure. We can’t be in each other’s pockets.”

“I moved some appointments,” Phin said, stabbing a chunk of juicy pineapple. “I’m all yours.”

“Then it’s settled.” Ash grasped the sliding door’s handle.

“Wait,” Kayla said. “Where are you going?”

“Hunting.”