Dangerous Minds (Knight and Moon 2)

“Where would I stay?”

“It’s a mansion. There are plenty of guest rooms. Anywhere you want. Although I was hoping you would spend tonight with me in the library.”

“The library,” Riley said. “That’s where you sleep.”

“Yes. I sleep in the tent. I find it more restful than the cluttered, elaborate bedrooms.”

Holy crikey, Riley thought. He wanted her to spend the night with him. In the library. She supposed that was flattering, and she did find him attractive, but she wasn’t sure she was ready. How would it affect their work relationship? And he was just so darn odd.

“This is so sudden,” Riley said.

“I suppose it is. I was hoping we could jump right into it, but I guess it would be okay if you wanted to go home and pack a few personal things to bring back here.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready to jump right into it. I mean, I like you. And there is a certain physical attraction…”

“Yes,” Emerson said. “I realize there’s a potential for distraction, but I’m sure we can work our way through that for the sake of the investigation.”

“The investigation.”

“Yes, and not just any investigation either. This one is worthy. A missing island. Sweet!” Emerson was practically vibrating with excitement. “We can do some research on the National Park Service tonight. Get a head start on tomorrow.”

“So you want me to drive all the way home, pack up a few personal things, drive all the way back here, and stay up all night doing your scut work?”

Emerson smiled. “Precisely.”

“And you want me to move in,” Riley said, making exaggerated quote marks with her fingers, “?‘permanently,’ so I can be at your beck and call twenty-four hours a day?”

Emerson smiled again and looked relieved. “Exactly. So glad you understand.”

“For the love of Mike, Emerson. In the entire history of ideas, that one has to be one of the worst.”

Riley slid behind the wheel, cranked the engine over, and rolled away, talking to herself all the way down the driveway.

“Idiot, idiot, idiot,” she said, rolling her eyes, wrinkling her nose. “What was I thinking? What is he thinking?”

She took the back way home along Beach Drive, following Rock Creek and weaving around the National Zoo. While she waited for the traffic light at Massachusetts Avenue, she got a text from Emerson.

I do not contend with the world, rath

er it is the world that contends with me.

Taken at face value she thought this sounded a tad egocentric. Since it came from Emerson she suspected it had a loftier meaning. And because she didn’t have sufficient energy to suss out the meaning, she texted back that she would see him tomorrow morning at nine.

A black Cadillac Escalade pulled up behind her and followed her through the light and onto Rock Creek and Potomac Parkway. Several miles later she turned onto M Street and then again onto Wisconsin Avenue. The Escalade was still there. She pulled to the curb by the Apple Store, and the Escalade sped past before she could get a glimpse at the car’s interior.

She texted Emerson.

Think I was being followed by an Escalade. It’s gone now. What do you think?

Moments later she got his response.

Terrible. Only gets 15 mpg. Also, be careful. #unagi.

A half mile later Riley parked in the alley behind her apartment. She was renting half of the third floor of a redbrick townhouse in a great location on a tree-lined street. It was long on charm and short on plumbing. The heating system clanked, and the hot water was slow in arriving, but the crown molding was stunning. It was a one-bedroom, one-bath, and it was furnished in comfortable contemporary pieces, mostly from Crate and Barrel.

Riley walked into the dark apartment and flipped on the light switch. It was good to be home. Her apartment felt calm and sane. It reflected her tastes and her hope for a bright, successful future. It screamed “young professional.” It also whispered “small town Texas girl.” There were pictures of her parents, grandparents, her brothers, and the family dogs. Scuffed-up, square-toed shitkicker cowboy boots were in the closet beside four-inch stiletto-heeled Christian Louboutins.

She poured herself a glass of wine, pulled some mac and cheese from the freezer, heated it up, and added some Texas Pete hot sauce. She ate at the little table she’d placed in a corner of the kitchen, and she wondered about Emerson. What was he eating? Probably nuts and berries with Wayan Bagus. Or a vegetarian breakfast bar.