I dragged myself into the living room, flopped onto the couch, opened the sub bag, and handed them out. One for me. One for Morelli. And two for Bob. Morelli cracked open two beers. We each took a long pull and dug into the subs. Morelli channel surfed while he ate, finally settling on wrestling.
“I'm tired,” Morelli said. “You scare the hell out of me and it makes me tired.”
I was way beyond tired. I was numb. I had a lot of questions for Morelli, but I didn't want the answers tonight. I wasn't up to thinking. I could barely chew and swallow.
Tomorrow morning I had to go to the station and tell a recording machine everything I knew about Fisher Cat and the game. Tomorrow would be a big questions-?and-?answers day. Hopefully when I woke up my brain would be back in thinking mode.
Good thing wrestling was on. You don't need a brain to enjoy wrestling. Lance Storm was kicking the beejeezus out of some new guy who looked like King Kong's mutant brother. Storm was wearing little bright red panties that made him easy to find in my befuddled state. I opened a second beer and silently toasted Storm's panties.
Stephanie Plum 9 - To The Nines
Chapter Thirteen
MORELLI NUDGED ME awake. “Rise and shine,” he said. “I need to get to work and you need to come with me.”
“There's something poking me in my back.”
He slid his arms around me. “Actually we have a couple minutes to spare.”
“How many minutes?”
“Enough to get the job done.”
“Are we talking about your job or mine?”
His hand skimmed the length of my belly and settled between my legs. “We're wasting valuable time.”
Okay, here's the real difference between men and women. I wake up thinking about coffee and doughnuts and Morelli wakes up thinking about sex. Morelli kissed the back of my neck, did some really clever things with his fingers down there, and the thoughts of coffee drifted away. Truth is, the magic fingers had my full attention and the coffee thoughts were replaced by a fear that the fingers might stop.
The fear was groundless, of course. Morelli had learned a lot since our first time behind the eclair case in the Tasty Pastry bakery.
“So,” Morelli said when we were done, “do you want to be first in the shower?”
I was face down on the bed, my heart rate was around twelve beats per minute, and I was in a state of euphoric slobbering contentment. In fact, I think I might have been purring. “You go first,” I said. “Take your time.”
Morelli went downstairs and got the coffee going before taking his turn in the bathroom. After a couple minutes the coffee fumes penetrated my after-?sex glow. I rolled out of bed, pulled on a pair of shorts and a T-?shirt, and followed the fumes to the kitchen. I poured out a mug of coffee and padded to the front door to get the morning paper.
I opened the door and found a red rose and a white carnation wrapped in cellophane, sitting on the paper. So much for euphoria. I brought everything inside and locked the door behind me. I left the flowers on the sideboard and opened the small square white envelope that had accompanied the flowers. The envelope held a note written on card stock.
Are you pleased that I saved you for myself? Do you get hot when you think about me and all I've done for you? I could have killed you last night just as I could have killed you when I took you down with the dart, but that would have been too easy. Your death must be worthy of a hunter. It was signed, Lovingly yours.
And tucked into the envelope was a lock of my hair, tied together with a slim pink satin ribbon.
I got goose bumps on my arm and a chill ripped through my stomach. The shock was short-?lived and I went back into bravado mode. Okay, I told myself, so that solves the mystery of the missing hair.
I was sitting in the living room with my coffee and the note when Morelli came down the stairs. He was freshly shaved
and his hair was still damp. He was dressed in jeans and boots and a black T-?shirt, and if I hadn't just had the mother
of all orgasms I would have attacked him and lured him back to bed.
“I saw the flowers on the sideboard,” Morelli said.
I handed him the card. “They were left on the porch this morning. They were on top of the paper, so the webmaster stopped around when it was daylight. Maybe someone saw him.”
“He's taking chances,” Morelli said. “He's glorying in his success and that's going to make him careless.”
“Something to look forward to.”