Broken Silence. Annslee Urban

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ about their past relationship.

      The breeze intensified, blowing strands of hair against Amber’s cheeks. Reaching up, she tucked them behind her ear and attempted to remain calm and put on a good face. But one look at Patrick’s strong, chiseled features and her stomach did an irrational juvenile tumble. “Well, I appreciate both of your efforts to solve the case.” She glanced at her watch. This little tête-à-tête was going nowhere. “Look at the time. I should get going.”

      “You haven’t even finished your dessert.” Kim shot her a questioning glance.

      “Sorry. I still have things to do tonight and I’m not very hungry.” At least not anymore. Amber abandoned her coffee on the table, and as she launched to her feet, her knee banged into the table leg, sending her cup crashing onto the brick pavers. Curious glances shot her way.

      Amber sucked in a gasp and stumbled forward as searing pain shot through her knee and it buckled. Her ability to stand was further compromised as she tripped over her messenger bag that had slid from her shoulder.

      “Amber!” Patrick called out as his strong arms wrapped around her, catching her before she hit the ground.

      Patrick’s solid arms kept her steady but sent her heart into palpitations. She stiffened against him, working to catch her breath as the familiar scent of his aftershave wrapped around her senses. Calm never seemed possible again.

      “Are you okay?” Patrick slanted her a wary look, probably wondering why she was gasping for air like a beached trout.

      She gazed into his dark eyes and nodded, her cheeks hot. “Yes, just clumsy.”

      Kim jumped up, grabbed a chair and scooted it forward. “Would you like to sit down?”

      “No, that’s okay.” Amber waved off any help as her sense of equilibrium returned. She pulled out of Patrick’s hold and willed her heart to slow.

      She took a step; glass crunched. She glanced down and noticed the broken china at her feet. “Oh, dear, I better clean that up.” She reached for some napkins, but Patrick grabbed a handful first.

      “I can get it.”

      Amber’s pulse kicked higher as she watched Patrick, who was down on one knee, pick up shattered glass and wipe up the puddle of coffee. “Thank you for doing that.”

      “No problem.” He easily grinned.

      Her chest went tight at his sense of chivalry. So attentive and helpful. When was the last time she’d met a guy like Patrick Wiley?

      Never.

      Suppressing a sigh, she picked up her large tote, clutched it to her side and pulled her focus back on her plans to get going.

      As Patrick got to his feet, he sent her a nod. “How’s your knee?”

      “Better.” She smiled and said, “Thank you again for taking care of the mess.”

      Before he could comment, she whirled around. “Good night, everyone.” She left with a little parting wave, sending Kim a reassuring smile. “We’ll talk soon.”

      Amber hiked the strap of her bag on her shoulder and headed down the sidewalk in the direction of her car, wincing at the sharp pain in her knee and doing her best to avoid limping while hoping her sutures stayed intact.

      As she made a turn onto Mulberry Street, she heard someone behind her. She hated feeling paranoid, but the sound of heavy boots clapping against the pavement made her pulse race. She quickened her gait, her eyes pointed forward.

      The boot steps accelerated, moving closer, then came up directly behind her. She was suddenly struck with an eleven-year-old memory. Her pursuer’s thudding footsteps the night she was attacked. So quickly he came at her and once he grabbed her—

      A hand caught her arm and panic exploded in her chest. As a silent scream ballooned in her throat, she wheeled around, adrenaline surging...and saw Patrick. Catching her breath and willing her heart to slow, she felt equal parts disappointment and relief.

      “Amber, what happened back there?”

      “Back at the café?” She pulled away and started walking again, trying to regulate her breathing. “Do you mean why I left?”

      Patrick kept pace with her. “You didn’t just leave. You took off like a scared jackrabbit.”

      So she had been that obvious? Amber didn’t slow down, but cast a sidelong glance his way. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I just have a lot on my mind.” Patrick Wiley included.

      “I understand that you don’t like to dwell on what happened, but the truth is, a bomb blew up your car and we need to figure out who did it.”

      Even on his night off, didn’t this man rest? “I understand your need to investigate the crime, Patrick. I just didn’t expect to see you when you’re off duty.”

      Patrick continued walking beside her. “Well, I thought you’d like to meet Liza, since she’s working on the case with me.”

      “I don’t want to seem unappreciative. I’m just holding out hope that this whole ordeal will blow over soon.”

      “That’s all of our wishes. But in the meantime, we need to work together.”

      Obviously an easy feat for him, but for her... Well, not so easy.

      Amber stopped at the street corner, waiting for the light to change green. Eyes forward, heart thumping, flustered that Patrick stood so close.

      She could feel the intensity of his gaze and the tension sizzling like electricity between them.

      “I feel as if we’re missing something,” Patrick said after a moment. “Some vital component to this crime that’s right under our noses. Is there anything you need to tell me?”

      Guilt swamped her. She felt blood rush to her cheeks, probably turning them the color of the red glowing traffic light. She had a million things to tell him. But not here. Not now. And not about the bombing incident. She sent him a glance and fought not to squirm under his speculative gaze.

      “Patrick, honestly, the whole bombing thing baffles me as much as it does you. If that changes, I promise to call.”

      After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded, his brow furrowed. “Okay. Let me walk you to your car.”

      “No need. I’m just in the parking garage across the street.” The light changed. “Have a good night.” With a wave, she broke into a jog, refusing to look back.

      A half hour later, Amber pulled into her driveway as the night sky twinkled to life. Five steps took her to her covered front porch. As she plunged the key into the lock, her mind was already plotting her evening. Number one on her list: narrow down the fund-raiser’s agenda and finish working on the speech she’d started.

      She blew out a breath. Good thing she’d left the café when she did.

      Once inside, she flipped on the hall lights and locked the dead bolt.

       Creak. СКАЧАТЬ