Page 67 of Ravaged With You

“Good. Honestly, I shouldn’t even have had to say this. You should already have known. Haven’t we always been there for each other?”

He chuckles. “I think you running out to get me emergency Milky Ways when I was drowning in chem final reviews is a far cry from what I want from you in bed.”

I laugh. “Yeah, but you forget the most important thing.” I wait until his brows raise in question. “I like both Milky Ways and sex.”

He laughs, then pulls me close for a kiss, this one sweet enough not to get me riled up again.

I sigh and settle back, still facing him, which gives me a view over his shoulders to my bookcase beyond. I see the space left by Anna Karenina, and I sit up, looking for the booksafe that got kicked to the floor. I find it tumbled open, my vibrator still inside.

“We should go shopping,” I tell him. “Let you do the selecting so that you can really take me down the rabbit hole. We could make a day of it, even get a hotel and—”

Oh, God. It couldn’t be that simple. Could it?

I scramble of the bed, then go to the book, yanking it toward me. I already know the answer, but I run my finger over the lock, anyway.

“Jo? What the hell? Are you okay?” He’s moving as he speaks, and now he’s kneeling naked in front of me, his hand on my shoulder. I barely notice. “Jo, dammit, what’s going on.”

“The thing,” I say. “The MacGuffin. Red, I think I know where it is.”

He looks at me like I’m crazy. But I’m not crazy. I stand up, then scramble into a pair of jeans. “We have to go.”

“Dammit, Jo. Talk to me. What did you realize? Where are we going?”

“The distillery,” I say, tossing on a black tee without bothering about a bra. “It’s the book. It’s in the book.”

To his credit, he doesn’t slow down getting dressed, but he does shoot me a look that suggests he’s concerned about my sanity.

I sigh. “About two years ago, Mel and I went to the Rose Bowl Flea Market. There was this booth that had all sorts of things that were book related. I bought that book at a booth. We each got one. I got Anna Karenina, and he got an old dictionary. He keeps it in his office at the distillery.”

I see the moment understanding hits him.

“This has to be it, right?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” he says. “But right now, it’s the only lead we have.”

I shove my feet into a pair of canvas flats, then hurry toward the door. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Coming.” He grabs his keys and wallet off my dresser and I hurry ahead, then disarm the security system at the panel by the front door. He reaches my side, and I pull the door open, then step out onto the porch, only to release a sharp, short scream when I see the figure standing on my front porch steps.

“Put down your weapon, Mr. Cooper.”

I barely register the voice as I turn to see Red standing behind me, a handgun aimed right at Detective Amaro.

Immediately I sag with relief as the reality that it’s the detective—and not the killer—standing on my stoop.

“Sorry,” Red says, putting the gun on the welcome mat, then standing. “Under the circumstances you can’t really blame me.”

“Circumstances?” she says.

I almost wince; as far as I know, the cops believe Mel committed suicide. But Red covers the mistakes seamlessly. “Jo had a break-in. We just had the security system redone. She’s a little jumpy. Add to that Mel’s suicide, and I’m helping keep her safe.”

“I’m sorry about the break-in,” the detective says, stepping onto the porch and into the light. “Did you report it?”

I shake my head. “No. With everything that’s been going on, I just wanted to put it behind me.” True words. Just not a true context. I frown as I look at the detective. “Why are you here?”

“We just received some interesting information. I’d like you to come down to the station with me.”

“And why is that?” Red says, before I can reply.