Letting him get some sleep.
She tried. She meant to. A full day of police work waited ahead. But for those last few hours, she was purely and completely selfish. Taking care of herself.
She lay there with a grown-up Rafe Kay in her bed. Listened to him breathe. Memorized the rhythm. Inhaled his earthy, postlovemaking scent, watched the rise and fall of his chest. Got as close to his warmth in her bed as she could without actually touching him.
For those hours she allowed herself to love him. She dozed on and off, wanting to sleep with him beside her, and before dawn arrived, she said goodbye.
It had to happen.
As wonderful as the night had been, it was just a figment of the past’s imagination. She had been waiting all their lives for this to happen. And now that it had, now that they’d had a chance to say an actual goodbye, they could finally both move on.
Rafe was up and dressed when Kerry woke from her last doze. After she’d said a mental goodbye and let him go.
“I’ll go make some coffee,” he said, seeing her sit up. He wasn’t looking her in the eye, and she understood. Appreciated the distance that was going to make the morning after easier.
The pain she felt, the grief, was not new to her. But she was better equipped to deal with it at thirty-six than she’d been at thirteen.
Deciding to shower and dress for work before she joined him, she half expected him to be gone when she got out to the living room. When he wasn’t, she peeked outside. The sun was barely rising, and James was still sitting upright in his police car, glancing at his phone, and then around him, in the rearview mirror and back to his phone.
In her light brown pants, white shirt and loafers, with her gun already strapped at her waist, and her long, still-wet hair back in a ponytail, she called the officer and let him know she was up and he was good to go.
And turned to find Rafe standing there, looking all elite and important even in second-day clothes, handing her a cup of coffee that wasn’t black. She took a sip. And wondered why he’d bothered to make such a clean knot in his tie when he’d just be going home to shower and change.
“You had hazelnut creamer in the fridge, so I figured that’s how you like it,” he said. She did, sometimes.
“I was wrong,” he said, when she took a second sip.
She shouldn’t have been surprised that he’d known. Her expression had given him more than her mouth and brain intended him to have.
“I need a couple of cups of straight black first thing in the morning,” she admitted. “The creamer was left over from a Christmas party, but I do use it sometimes when I’m working late from home.”
He had a cup in hand. She couldn’t see how he took his.
It seemed fitting to her—the fact that they didn’t know such a simple thing about each other. It was telling. Put things in perspective.
“So what happens next?” he asked her, his gaze too intent for her to pretend the question was anything but personal.
“I had a text from Al... Chief Barco. We’re going to talk this morning to discuss an investigation into Odin Rogers.” Finally. At least something good had come out of the harrowing night they’d had—and a ranger losing his life. Her peers were finally ready to acknowledge that there might be something in her hunch that her brother’s death hadn’t been accidental. And the chief was willing to listen to her other hunches on the subject.
“I’ve done a lot of investigation already,” she said, nodding toward the wall that was partially visible from where they stood in the living room. “The chief and Dane, Detective Dane Howman, are coming over this morning to go over what I’ve got. And I have to focus on finding out who shot Payne,” she reminded him—specifically in that moment the reminder was personal. And intended for both of them.
And to that end, she’d spent her time in the shower, after shedding a few very private tears, focusing her mind on her current assignment. “Who’s going to run Colton Oil now that Ace is out as CEO and Payne is in a coma?”
“The board already voted to have Marlowe take over as CEO.” He’d know, being a member of that board.
Marlowe was the fourth-oldest Colton sibling. She’d been the talk of the station recently, as PJ worked to catch her stalker. From what Kerry had gathered at the hospital the other night when she’d gone into the waiting room to bring Ace Colton in for questioning, Marlowe was pregnant and had just announced her engagement to rival energy executive Bowie Robertson.
Grayson Colton, a first responder, wasn’t on the board, nor was Asher, but Ainsley, Marlowe’s older sister was.
Maybe Marlowe knew that, with Payne also out of commission, she’d be next in command, and, with perhaps some pushing from her lover who just happened to be the son of the owner of Colton Oil’s biggest rival, a company that lobbied for green energy, had decided to have Payne taken out.
Recent attempts had been made on her own life. That changed a person. Could have made her temporarily aggressive.
“Is it possible Marlowe’s involved in the shooting?” she asked Rafe. It was a question she’d ask other members of the board, as well. She was working a case. Living real life.
Setting down his coffee cup with a bit of force—he took it black, she noted—he asked, “Do you really think all of the Coltons are that heartless?”
She’d hurt him. Or angered him. “I honestly don’t know...”