Kissed Blind (A Hot Pursuit Novel Book 2) (6 page)

“Hey,” he said from behind me.

“I’m a sore loser. I know it. You know it. But I swear if you rub it in my face anymore I’m going to hurt you.”

“You’re so competitive. Lighten up.” He put his hands on my hips and slowly turned me around to face him. Standing in the frigid air, I closed my eyes and waited for him to lay it on thick. His hands left my hips. “Good game,” he said.

I opened my eyes to his hand held out in front of me. I cocked my head to the side and gave him a sideways glance. “That’s it?” I took his hand but waited for him to drop the bomb that would release my inner rage monster.

He nodded. “Thanks for playing Nonna’s game. With all the stuff going on with Pop, this helped me feel better.”

“Well shoot, now I feel guilty for being mad at you for winning.” I held up a finger. “And before you say anything, I realize how irrational that sounds.”

He chuckled. “It’s who you are. Who cares about rational and irrational?” Taking a few steps back from me, he leaned against the row of cabinets and palmed the counter. “It’s been too long since we’ve played cards. This was fun.”

“Yeah, it was.” I shut the fridge behind me and took a step toward him.

“I should get going.” He pushed off the counter and walked to the door.

“Want to grab a bite real quick before you go home? My food selection is thin.”

He shook his head and gave me a smile. “Nah, I wanna check in with Pop and rest up for tomorrow.”

He opened the door and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. After he was gone, I found myself standing alone in my kitchen with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that had no name.

Six

I woke up early and trained hard. I was prepared for anything and anyone. After getting cleaned up, I checked out my cheek; it had seen better days. It was swollen but not as terrible as I’d expected. A purple bruise had appeared on my hip that looked worse than it felt.

I’d gotten a text from Vance after I’d fixed my hair. He was picking me up a little later than usual. Oliver didn’t need to be on set until early afternoon to begin filming and wanted to give us extra time to recoup from the walk in the park. I grabbed a coffee and sat down on my couch to watch
Good Morning America
.

I flipped on the television as someone knocked on my door. Becca, my neighbor, stood on the other side of my peephole. She was new to the area and had taken a job at the local university working in one of the research labs. Since we’d met, she and I had hit it off. She also had the best collection of t-shirts ever that always made me laugh. With anything from eighties big hair bands to nineties grunge to current pop, she represented all styles of music. Today was no exception with Taylor Swift splashed across her chest.

“Hey, what’s up?” I squinted. It was odd to see her so bright and early. “Love your—” I didn’t get the words out before she barged past me and shut my door. Her damp, wavy chestnut hair smelled of something light and fruity.

“Oh thank God, you’re still here! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” She spun around with huge eyes.

“Tell you what?”

“Tell me what? Tell me that you’re working for Oliver Pierce.
The
Oliver Pierce! I would have that man’s baby in a heartbeat if he asked me. Do you think you can arrange for me to meet him?” She crossed her hands over her chest and sighed. “I’ll die. I’ll just die!”

“I, um, might be able to get you on set or something. I could ask after I see what he’s like a little more. Yesterday was the first time I worked with him, so I don’t know him all that well yet.” I peered at her. “How’d you know I was working with him?”

“Only because your face is all over television this morning! Have you seen
Channel 9 News
?”

My heart dropped into my stomach. “What? No, I just sat down.”

“Yeah, it’s all over that Oliver and Camille—don’t even get me started on her, I would totally love to meet her too.” She plopped on the couch. “Were almost jumped downtown last night until you stopped the guy. Some photographer was there and caught the whole thing. You are a total badass, by the way.” I had never seen her so excited. She was talking a mile a minute. “I can’t believe you got punched in the face.”  Stunned, I lowered myself on the couch next to her. She leaned in and inspected my eye. “Kudos on your makeup job. I can hardly tell you got hit.”

I turned to the television, and, sure enough, a photograph of what went down was on my screen. It was a shot of me holding the assailant’s wrist, and the moment his fist landed on my face. Vance was pictured in the background shielding Camille and Oliver. “Uh, this is a problem.” One big problem, and its name was Gabe. I cringed. We’d finally gotten over the hump of him accepting my job and the danger that came along with it. In recent months, my assignments had been low key, so it hadn’t been a challenge. This would do me the service of giving him a painful reminder.
Super
. I could barely contain my excitement.

“Why? Everything worked out okay, didn’t it? Oliver and Camille released a statement saying the incident was ably handled by their security staff, and they’re working hard to put it behind them.”

I slumped back and sighed. “Yeah, they aren’t who I’m worried about.”

Becca drew in a quick breath through her teeth. “The Gabester, huh?”

“Yeah. Gabe.”

“Well, maybe he won’t see it?”

“Not a chance.” My phone buzzed on the kitchen table. I didn’t have to look at the screen to know who it was. “Speak of the devil.”

“I guess I’ll go and let you handle that.” She hopped off the couch and walked to the door. “Let me know if I can sneak a peek of Oliver, would ya?”

I smiled. “You bet. Totally dig your shirt. Taylor Swift?”

She glanced down, holding out the shirt. “Oh my gosh, she rocks. Gotta run! Catch you on the flip side.”

After she left, I returned Gabe’s call.

“Hey!” I said, trying to inflate my level of excitement to compensate for what I guessed was going to be his reaction.

“Hey,” he said, surprisingly calm. “Are you okay? I just saw on the news that some punk punched you.”

“I’m totally fine. It wasn’t a big deal at all. Vance came in behind me and took care of the situation. He was actually hurt worse than I was.”

“Just so long as you’re okay. It drives me crazy thinking some guy punched you.”

“I’ve taken worse hits in training. The picture was one tiny moment blown way out of proportion. You know how the media is with this type of stuff. It’s just because it was Oliver and Camille that it even made the news. My eye isn’t even bruised.” Welcome to the art of downplaying, and I was laying it on thick.

“Good. I like your face the way it is.” He paused and took a deep breath. “Why didn’t you call and tell me what happened?”

“The day was jam packed. That’s all. And when I got home, I crashed.” What was I going to tell him? I’d patched up a shirtless, bloodied Vance, and we sat around and played cards all night? Nope, not a chance. I’d already dodged one bullet.

“Okay, be safe out there. I worry about you.”

“I know, but you don’t need to. I’ve got this.”

He held his breath again. “There’s another reason I’m calling too.”

“Which is?

“I have to work late again.”

I grunted. “Again? If you keep this up I might lodge a formal complaint with the union for overworking you.”

He laughed. “Good luck with that. For all intents and purposes, I am the union. I’m not sure how many late nights I’ll have at this point. Things are on the verge of disaster with this deal.”

Vance’s accusation resurfaced in my brain. My body was suddenly ten pounds heavier, and I leaned against the table for support.

“Di?”

“Yeah?” I smiled, yet had no idea why.

“I gotta run. I’m late for a meeting. I’m taking you out to dinner soon. K?”

“Okay.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too. Have a—” The line went dead before I finished my sentence.

.              .              .

I waited outside my apartment until Vance pulled up at the curb. When I got in the car, I noticed he’d trimmed his thick beard into a more manicured stubble.

“What’s with the George Michael look you’re rockin’? You look super dreamy.” I checked my cheek in the visor mirror and then batted my eyelashes at him.

Vance stroked his face, leaning into the rear view mirror. “You don’t like it?”

It wasn’t a question of whether I liked it or not. Vance was a handsome man with or without facial hair, but with it he was more rugged and masculine. “I do but...” I clicked my seat belt across my lap, and Vance pulled into traffic. “Beards and facial hair have been all the rage lately. I’m surprised you gave into a trend. Next thing you know you’re going to grow your hair out into one of those ridiculous man buns.”

He snorted and ran his hand through his short, inky black hair. “No way, my hair is staying the way it is. But the stubble, eh, I like it. There’s no agenda. Just keeping the ladies on their toes.”

I smiled and shook my head. “How’s your stomach?”

“Sore, but nothing major. A great nurse patched me up.”

“Good. We need to be extra careful with Oliver. What happened last night was crazy.”

“No kidding.” Vance was getting ready to pass my favorite coffee house. “Want to grab a coffee?”

I’d already reached my caffeine limit for the day. “Nah, I’ve got the shakes from this morning’s cups already. We should just get to Oliver’s so we’re not late. The first street car is heading into the city. Traffic could be a nightmare.”

One of the many developments made to the city was the Cincinnati Street Car System, a multi-million dollar project aimed at improving transportation and city appeal. After years and years of work, the first streetcar was being transported from Northern Ohio to downtown Cincinnati.

“Oh, that’s right. I take it you saw us on the news then?” Vance asked.

“Uh, yeah, I sure did. Couldn’t miss it.”

“Well the two of us plastered all over the news should make Cavanaugh happy. Gotta say, if you’d told me six months ago we’d be side by side fighting a criminal in an article about Oliver and Camille Pierce, I would have called you insane.” Vance merged onto the highway.

“Yeah, me too.” I laughed. “And get this, Gabe called me this morning and didn’t freak out about it.”

Vance looked at me with wide eyes. “Really? That’s huge.” He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. “Is he taking you out tonight?”

“No, why?”

“Because he says he’s fine with what happened, but he’s not. He needs to see for himself that you’re okay. So I’m guessing he offered to take you to dinner. You’re a sucker for a good meal.”

“Well, Mr. Know-It-All, he’s not. He’s working late again.” He pulled in air through clenched teeth. “Ugh, don’t start.” I stared out into traffic, breathing off the heaviness still resting on my chest.

“Start what?” He chuckled.

“You know what.” I sighed. “How’s your dad?”

“Good. Should be getting out tomorrow.”

“That’s great. See I knew he’d bounce back.”

“He’s still got a long road ahead of him, and I got into it with Ma last night. I hope she heard me at least. She’s gotta cooperate with doctor’s orders or she’s gonna kill him.”

“She wants your dad back to his old self. I’m sure she’ll do what it takes.”

“I hope so.”

We arrived at Oliver’s building, and after checking in, we were buzzed up. Cici let us in, and we joined her in the kitchen while she straightened a few things leftover from breakfast. Upstairs, Camille and Oliver were arguing again. I couldn’t make out any specifics this time.

“Running through lines again, huh?” I asked.

“I know, right?” Cici smiled as she put a carton of organic almond milk back into the fridge. She wore a Catholic school girl outfit, and her short skirt swished stiffly as she sashayed.
Didn’t that look go out with the Britney Spears “Baby One More Time” video
? “They fight like cats and dogs,” she said in a low voice.

“They do?” I said.

“Yeah, just act normal when they come downstairs.” After she finished tidying the kitchen, Cici checked the time. “He’s going to be late if they don’t wrap this up.” She washed her hands and dried them on a towel dangling from the oven handle. “Oh, before I forget, I have these for you two.” She handed each of us a sheet of paper. “It’s the tentative schedule for the next few weeks so you have a better idea of where we need to be and when.”

“Thanks,” Vance said, offering her a warm smile, and something about it stuck a thorn in my side.

She gave him her deep-dimpled smile, and the thorn dug in a little more. “Wish me luck. I’m going in.” Cici grabbed a mug of something she’d concocted off the island and took it with her.

After Cici went upstairs, we waited around for another hour. When Oliver and Camille finally came down, they both wore fake smiles.

“Sorry to keep you guys waiting. We should get going before the director sends a hit man out to get me.” He set the empty mug down on the coffee table while slipping into his shoes.

“Are you joining us on set today, Camille,” Cici asked.

Camille stepped in front of the window, facing the natural light with a sparkly compact flipped open in her hand. She drew a fresh line around her lips and powdered her nose before releasing an exaggerated sigh. “No, if I’m on set it will only be a distraction, isn’t that right?” Her lips curved upward but no humor touched her eyes. “I don’t want people fussing over me when it’s Oliver’s show. I think I’ll head out and do some shopping.” She strutted into the kitchen and fumbled with the single serving coffee maker, randomly pressing screens and buttons, opening and closing the brewing compartment, inflating everything and being excessively noisy. “I just want a damn cup of coffee. Why does everything have to be so complicated? Cici, how do you work this stupid thing?”

The coffee maker they had was a few grades nicer than Gabe’s, but it didn’t involve a whole lot of guess work. Lift the lid, insert cup, close the lid, and press the blinking start button. A child could have done it.

Cici walked over. “Here, why don’t I take care of that?” She took the K-cup from Camille’s hand and brewed the coffee. “I’ll bring it to you.”

Camille had walked away as soon as Cici had relieved her of the K-cup, flipping her flaxen locks over her shoulder and swaying her narrow hips as she went. She’d known how the scene was going to play out before it began. “Vanilla almond milk and two packets of Stevia,” she added, not bothering to look at Cici.