Page 41 of Silver Claw

“Oh hell,” I muttered after half the bacon of one sandwich fell onto the floor. I closed the bag and pushed it away. I’d eat after I saw Rick and toured his murder house.

He was leaning against his car when I pulled up, and for a few seconds once I shut off my car, we simply stared at each other through the windshield.

He didn’t move when I finally climbed out and walked toward him, but there was something in his eyes.

“Hey,” I said.

Finally, he smiled. Barely, but it was there. He straightened and held out his hands, and I went to him. It was as naturalas anything to slide my arms under his suit jacket, to press my palms against his back, to inhale softly to get his scent.

There’d always been a line.

But it was so dim now I could barely see it.

He wrapped me up in his embrace and we stood quietly, our bodies pressed together, saying nothing, because we didn’t need any words.

And when he slid his fingers over my arm to my throat, then my face, lightly caressing, I only watched him.

“You look good,” he murmured.

I tilted my head and grinned. “So do you.”

He sobered almost immediately when his stare dropped to a nearly healed cut on the side of my neck. “It’s getting harder for me to watch the abuse you take.”

“Why?” I asked. Because we both knew I was never going to go through life gently.

He hesitated, then brushed my lips with his thumb. “I don’t like to see you hurt.” He shook his head. “Also…I’ve realized the world would hold little meaning if you weren’t in it with me.”

I was at a loss for words.

So I didn’t say anything.

He sighed gently and dropped his hands from my face. “Let’s go inside. What’s a better way to start the morning than investigating a murder?”

“I can think of one,” I murmured. I ran my hands up over his chest, and as he froze, unsure, I cupped his face and pressed my lips against his. I didn’t kiss him gently. I tilted my head, opened my mouth, and put everything I felt for him into that kiss.

I loved my human world man.

When I finally pulled away, we were both dazed. For a few seconds, we stared into each other’s eyes, smiling.

“Rick, I…”

“I know,” he murmured.

And for a little while, there were no shadows in his eyes.

Chapter Seventeen

“What do you feel?” Rick asked when we stepped into the house.

I stood with my eyes closed, pulling in the scent of blood, thick and meaty, and the emptiness of life in the house.

“It’s fresh,” I told him, opening my eyes. “You already called this in?”

He nodded. “People are coming.”

“Let’s see the body, then, so I can get out of here and let them work.”

But before we could take more than a couple of steps, two uniformed patrol officers stepped into the house. Rick gave them a nod. “Kait, this is Paul Dexter and Jeremy Hill.” Then to the officers, “You know Kait Silver,” he told them.