Page 55 of Fire and Bones
I may have screamed.
I may have threatened with my ridiculously small weapon.
The man dropped his arm and stepped back.
“Who are you?” I demanded.
Two palms rose, directed toward me. “Easy.”
Somewhere below, a door slammed.
“What do you want!?” My throat was parched, and fear wasn’t helping my diction.
I heard footsteps. Muffled, like an eraser tapping a chalkboard.
My eyes never left the man. Beyond his massive shoulders I saw a head appear on the stairs at the far end of the hall. A ginger head.
The head bounced up tread by tread and became Ivy Doyle.
“Ben!”
The man whipped around.
“Sorry, babe. You can’t work up here tonight. I have a guest bunking in this room.”
Doyle must have flicked a switch. Suddenly the hall was bathed in light.
Ben looked like every cell in his body was prickling. I’m sure I looked the same.
“My bad,” Doyle gushed, intent on defusing the awkward situation. “Wires crossed? SNAFU? What does one call a failure to give notice?”
I hadn’t an inkling of her meaning. Ben’s expression, now readable, suggested he hadn’t, either.
Doyle hurried toward us, manicured fingers clutching her robe at the throat, slippers softly kissing the hardwoods.
“Tempe…” sweeping a hand from me to Ben, “… this is my fiancé, Ben Zanetti. Ben…” reverse sweep, “… this is Tempe Brennan. Dr. Brennan is staying here while she consults to the medical examiner.”
Ben and I exchanged nods. His hair was black and curly and leading-man thick, his eyes an unusual amber flecked with bronze. I swear the guy stood six feet six. Almost as big as Captain Hickey. Seemed our nation’s capital preferred its men large.
“Tempe’s daughter, Katy, is one of my very best friends,” Doyle said to Zanetti.
I suspected that was an overstatement but didn’t let on.
“Nice to meet you,” I managed to get out.
“Ben’s the hottest realtor in DC.” Doyle smiled coyly at him. “He does paperwork up here when staying at the house.” Her grin switched to mildly rueful as she reached for Mr. Real Estate’s hand. “Which isn’t nearly often enough.”
“I’ll work on that, darlin’.” Ben pulled her in and draped her shoulders with a tree-trunk arm.
“I’m so sorry to inconvenience you,” I said, suddenly aware of my inelegant boxers and tank. “I’ll be out of here tomorrow.”
“Absolutely not,” Doyle said. “You are welcome here for as long as you need.”
As things turned out, my stay was far longer than anticipated.
I awoke to another soggy dawn unfolding in shades of gray. Pewter sky. Slate trees. Ash walkways and drive.
I lay a moment, experiencing a twitchiness I couldn’t explain.