Page 118 of Until the End

He considered joining her in the shower, but they’d only end up fused together again. She surely needed a break and he needed a few more minutes to recover.

The doorbell rang.

Castle grabbed a towel, wiped off, and threw on his clothes. On the way down the steps, he fastened his belt and tugged on his boots.

He looked through the peephole. It was Sanborn.

Castle stood there, paralyzed with confusion.

Why was the director here, in person? Why hadn’t he called instead?

Unless it was to check up on the status of things with Kit. See if the situation was indeed professional and tear Castle a new one once he discovered firsthand that it wasn’t.

He spun on his heel and glanced around.

His place was a mess. Red SOLO cups and chopsticks on the coffee table, the hard drive beside the laptop on the floor, Kit’s thong dangling from the switch of a living room lamp. Throw pillows had been literally tossed around—one still on the dining room table where he’d fucked Kit and didn’t want her to hurt her head.

Shit.

The doorbell rang again, followed by a knock. “Castle, open up. I don’t have all day.”

“One minute.” He darted around, straightening up, stuffing the underwear under a cushion, collecting plastic cups and tossing them in the trash, shoving the drives and laptop into her satchel. Then he opened the door, his heart racing. “Hi, sir. This is a surprise.”

Castle stepped back, letting his boss in.

Sanborn adjusted the strap of his leather messenger bag on his shoulder and offered Castle a gift-wrapped box from Olivia Macarons. “Congratulations. You retrieved the hard drives and the team is in Potomac, Maryland, as we speak. They recovered an anthrax bioweapon before it could go off and contaminate a water supply plant.”

“That’s great.” Castle took the box and went to the kitchen, with Sanborn following behind. “Did they apprehend Bravo and his team?”

“Yes. Crisis adverted and all threats neutralized.” Sanborn sat on a stool at the counter and set his bag down. “Where is Ms. Westcott?”

“She’s upstairs.” Castle scrubbed a hand over his head and went to the coffeepot. “Want a cup?”

“No, thank you.”

Castle filled a mug with piping hot java and sat across from the chief.

“You usually inhale half the box right away.” Sanborn pushed the macarons in front of him. “You earned them. And I delivered them myself as an olive branch. My way of showing you how much I value you as a part of my team.” Sanborn untied the bow and flipped off the lid. “They have some delicious seasonal flavors that I’m sure will go great with your coffee.”

Not only had Castle’s bluff with Sanborn worked, but the chief was worried about losing him. So much that he had hand-delivered the macarons.

The candy-colored cookies were a tempting sight. Pistachio was his usual favorite, but he spotted the limited-edition butterbeer flavor. He picked up the tricolored cookie and popped it in his watering mouth. The luscious combination of creamy butterscotch caramel and the fluffy meringue shells delighted his taste buds.

By the fourth cookie, he noticed an underlying flavor or spice he didn’t recognize that added a subtle tang.

A creak came from the stairs. Castle knew at once that it was Kit, but he prayed Sanborn hadn’t caught the faint sound.

“Ms. Westcott, I’m here to check in on you,” Sanborn said.

“I’m still getting dressed,” she called from the stairs. “I was looking for, um, my shoes. I’ll be down in a minute.”

“You were already on your way down. Clearly, however you’re dressed you deemed appropriate for Castle. I’m sure I won’t be offended. Please join us. I insist.”

Kit crept down the rest of the stairs and around the corner, wearing nothing but one of Castle’s big T-shirts that fell to her midthigh.

Sanborn looked her over from head to toe and back again. “He’s a special one.” The chief patted his hand, making Castle’s insides tighten. “I trust he’s taking good care of you.”

“Yes. The best.” She brushed wet hair from her eyes and folded her arms across her chest.