The Mermaid Murders (The Art of Murder 1) - Page 73

t going to be much fun tonight.”

Kennedy turned to face him. “No. I really do mean sleep.” His expression was serious.

“Uh…well, if you…” What? Don’t mind? Want the company? Jason wasn’t sure what his question was. He was too surprised by Kennedy’s offer. The truth was, he didn’t particularly want to be on his own tonight. Every time he closed his eyes he saw that weird basement with its shifting shadows and skulls and snakes. No. He wouldn’t mind sharing a bed with a warm body tonight.

“In that case, yes,” he said. “However, I think you should know that I snore.”

Kennedy said, “I do know that you snore.”

“Oh? Right. Okay. On your head—or next to your head—be it.”

Kennedy smiled faintly.

It was a relief to stumble into the next room and flop down on the bed.

He shivered. The temperature in here was like a meat locker. Jason made the supreme effort to kick off his jeans and crawl under the coverlet. He pulled the comforter up, vaguely aware that Kennedy moved around the room, turning off the air conditioner, turning down the lamp, putting stuff away—how much tidying up did he have to do?—Jason’s eyelids felt weighted.

With the air conditioner off, he could hear the summer rain hitting the windows, making a soothing, shushing sound. Nice. Funny how rain had a different sound in the summer.

And Kennedy’s presence was comforting even if he was taking forever to come to bed.

“Are you checking email?” Jason mumbled.

“I’ll be right there,” Kennedy replied absently, fingers clicking away on his laptop.

At last the lamp on the desk snapped out. A moment later the mattress dipped. Kennedy’s long, solid frame slid between the sheets next to Jason. Jason had slipped into an uneasy doze, but that brought him back to wakefulness.

“Are you warm enough?” Kennedy asked. His voice was low and intimate, a bedroom voice.

“Oh, yeah. Boiling.” It wasn’t the truth though. There was a cold knot in his core, and every so often a shudder rippled through him. Maybe he was suffering a little from shock, as ridiculous as the idea seemed.

Kennedy slid an arm under Jason’s shoulders and drew him over. He wrapped his other arm around Jason. Normally Jason didn’t care to be held while he was trying to sleep, but tonight Kennedy’s heat and bulk was a comfort. Jason closed his eyes and relaxed.

After a time he stopped shivering and fell into a state of comfortable drowsiness. But he could tell that Kennedy was awake, could feel him thinking.

Jason murmured, “Everything all right?”

“Of course.” Kennedy kissed Jason’s temple. “Just relax.”

“If I was any more relaxed, I’d be drooling on your chest.”

He felt Kennedy’s smile. Kennedy nuzzled him, but it was an absent caress. His mind was a million miles away.

Well, not a million miles away because he was consciously quieting Jason, keeping him warm and comfortable, but the focus of his thoughts was not on Jason.

“How did you get into profiling?” Jason asked sleepily.

He felt Kennedy wrench back to alertness. After a moment, Kennedy said with a strange lack of inflection, “I like to hunt.”

“What made you want to hunt serial killers?”

The silence stretched so long he didn’t think Kennedy would answer.

“It was a long time ago,” Kennedy said finally. “I don’t talk about it.”

Jason considered that slammed door. “Okay.”

Kennedy kissed him with that same out-of-character gentleness. “Maybe sometime I’ll tell you about it. It’s no bedtime story.”

Tags: Josh Lanyon The Art of Murder Mystery
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