Imaginary Lines (New York Leopards 3)

Her lips twitched. “Precious. Fine, I’ll hold for now. But I’m keeping it for when we really need to pull you out of the trenches. Look, there’s Jensen Clay. Go find out why he crashed his car two nights ago instead of studying the playbook.”

“Don’t let Clay be an ass to you,” Abe warned.

I wanted to kiss him lightly, but didn’t, of course. “I can handle Jensen.” I nodded at Tanya, and took off.

* * *

The rest of the evening went all right. I left twenty minutes after Abe and hurried down the frozen streets toward our meeting spot. Snow drifted down, silencing the city.

A hand reached out and caught mine. Abraham whirled me into his arms, kissing me softly. Snow melted down on our skin as his mouth explored mine. His gloved hands were rough against my cheeks, but he was warm, and he was safe. I leaned my head against his chest and sighed. “That was a horrible night.”

“I wanted to punch Philip.”

“Thank God you didn’t! As it is, you’re probably going to get fined.”

“I don’t care.”

“You should care.” I shook my head, indignant. “He couldn’t even be bothered to get my name right! Called me ‘Rosenberg.’”

Abe started laughing. “I don’t think that was a mistake.”

“Um, I think it was. It’s not my last name.”

Abe couldn’t stop laughing. “It’s the last name of famous traitors from World War II. Soviets.”

I stared at him. “Were they Jewish?”

“Yeah. Lived in New York, too.”

Well, that was awkward. “Oh my God. He called me a Soviet spy.” I paused. “Do you think he came up with that on the fly or has he’s been waiting to use it all week?”

Abe leaned his head against my shoulder. “I hope he’s been storing it up for months.”

“It’s not actually a bad pun. Rude. But not bad.”

But now Abe’s laughter dried up, and he lifted his head. “It was rude. In fact, you know what? I didn’t like anything about that. Not how they treated you. I didn’t like not defending you. We’re going to have to cut this secret stuff.”

“No, we’re not,” I said just as stubbornly. “Because then you’ll get in trouble.”

“I don’t care. Fuck them. I want to go out with my girlfriend, I’m going out.”

He knew that wasn’t an option. “Abe, we can’t be seen together.”

“They’re not running our lives. Dammit, it’s Christmas Eve tomorrow. We’re going to go to the movies and get Chinese food and to hell with the rest of them.”

My lips twitched. “What, are we going to go in disguise?”

He stopped pacing and stared at me, roguish light illuminating his face.

It must have been contagious, because laughter burbled out of me. “You know, I always wanted to be a redhead...”

Chapter Twenty-Five

We painted my hair red with twenty-four-hour dye and then blew it dry. The straightened length of my hair always shocked me; it flowed well below my shoulder blades. I liked the red, and kept staring in the mirror and giggling.

When I came out of the bathroom, I struck a pose. “Introducing the new locks of L’Oreal.”

Abraham grinned slowly. “I still think you should wear black leather. You know. Just to make sure no one will be able to recognize you.”