The Devil You Know

With a sudden sense of horror, it occurred to her that she might have blown Adam’s cover on his current case. She had to speak to him. Right away.

Roni paced the floor. Finally, at half past eleven, she heard Geena’s voice, then Adam’s, as they ascended the stairs. She eased her door open ever so little and noted which rooms they entered. As she’d suspected, their rooms were side by side, across the hall from hers and Scott’s.

At midnight, she figured everyone was in bed and asleep. Except Adam. She could see a sliver of light under his door. She tiptoed across the hall and silently turned the knob.

Adam, dressed in a sweat suit, sat in an easy chair, his feet on the matching ottoman, a book open on his lap. His eyes met hers, their frosty hue not very welcoming.

She slipped inside and closed the door. “I need to talk to you,” she whispered.

He nodded, but didn’t get up. His gaze swept over her satin pajamas, which were dark blue with a paisley print border in gold on the sleeves and legs.

Going to him, she perched on the edge of the ottoman and leaned close. “You remember a week ago Friday I was at the restaurant with Patricia and you were with—”

“GregWilliams,” Adam interrupted rather impatiently.

“Yes, well, you told him you and my cousin had worked on a couple of projects and that we had met at his wedding. Remember?”

He nodded.

“Then last night you mentioned Zack and Honey. I told Geena my cousin was a deputy sheriff—”

“Ah, yes, when you were comparing bloodlines.”

She flushed at the sarcastic tone and wished she hadn’t let her baser emotions get the better of her. “I don’t think Geena caught on,” she said contritely.

“Would it have mattered to you if she had?”

Roni peered into his unfriendly gaze. “Not then,” she admitted, “but now I’m truly sorry. I was envious, just for a moment, of all she had.”

The silence was brief, but intense.

“What, Little Bits, does she have that you haven’t got, tenfold?”

His voice was still stern, but other emotions—tenderness? sympathy? concern?—flicked through his eyes and were quickly hidden. She wondered if they were for her or for the confident Geena.

“Golfing skills,” she lamented.

He smiled slightly, and the tension eased. She grinned, then became serious. “Anyway, Mr. Masterson mentioned Greg Williams was with CTC,” she said in a barely audible voice.

“What bothers you about that?” Adam asked.

“I may have blown your cover.” She pinched pleats into the satin material of her pajamas while she considered the ramifications. “If Geena knows my cousin is a cop and Greg knows you’ve worked with him and they get to talking and all this comes out, then they may suspect you’re a cop.”

“I see.”

She stared at her nervous fingers and forced them to stop creasing the material. “I feel just wretched.”

His low laughter brought her head up. “I knew I was in for trouble when you fell on my table that day like a warning from heaven. I don’t know how I thought I could avoid you.” He laughed again. “Or your meddling.”

His resigned exasperation hurt, but she had no time for self-pity at the present. “Are you making fun of me?” she demanded. It certainly didn’t seem as if he was taking her all that seriously.

“No,” he denied, but he was smiling. “Next time you see Greg, flirt with him. Maybe he’ll tell you what he’s up to.”

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