9 CONNOR
The room hung somewhere between twilight and dawn, and I was still staring at the ceiling, wide awake. Samantha had been motionless for so long that if not for the occasional sigh, I might have thought she was dead.
The cold wind blowing straight at me was becoming uncomfortable, like everything else in this bed tonight. The night was cold, and the wind made the curtains dance. You could hear the wind chimes tinkling. In fact, in that silence, you could have heard ants walking across cotton.
As my eyes wandered around the room, they suddenly found Samantha's uncovered form. Her long legs were partially exposed, and the wind from the window made the fabric flutter, revealing glimpses of her thighs.
Imagine my surprise when she suddenly moved, forcing me to snap my eyes shut so I wouldn't look like some damn pervert watching her half-naked and defenseless.
But Samantha didn't just turn toward me—she also draped one of her legs over me. I needed to get her off me, but if I touched her to do it, she'd kill me. And rightfully so.
I didn't know how much damage that kiss had done the night before.
I'd been aware of what was happening, but driven by a heat in my chest I couldn't explain.
Her simple touch had seemed to set everything ablaze, and every step that followed was wilder than I should have allowed myself to be. Not with her.
When she sighed again, I caught the smell of alcohol on her breath. I hadn't noticed before, but it made sense—it explained the unusually deep sleep.
I tried to shift a little, but she grumbled and dug her nails into my arm, pulling it toward her. I decided staying still was the best option—no sense waking the dragon—until she woke up on her own and realized how embarrassing our situation was.
When sunlight began creeping across the wall opposite the bed, Samantha stirred again, and this time I noticed through half-closed eyes that hers had opened slightly.
“Oh my God,” I heard her whisper as she slowly climbed off me, trying not to wake me. I wanted to laugh, but I couldn't make things worse for her. Not after being such an idiot last night.
She dragged herself to the edge of the bed and lay down with her feet toward the headboard, putting as much distance between us as possible. Somehow, that let me finally relax the muscles I'd kept tense all night to avoid touching her. And at last, I fell asleep.
Before the sun reached the bed, a crash shattered the silence. I bolted upright, finding myself face to face with Sam and her wide eyes.
The sound of footsteps on the stairs broke the thunderous silence between us. I slipped over to the window—a patrol car and an unmarked car were parked in front of the antique shop. I motioned for her to get to the bathroom while I grabbed my gun.
“Don't come out until I say so,” I ordered when she hesitated. “Now!”
Samantha slipped into the bathroom, and I positioned myself behind the front door. Heavy knocks came, followed by Officer Ahmed's voice calling for Samantha.
“Miss Riad?” Three more knocks.
I tucked the gun into the back of my waistband and cracked the door open, just enough for Ahmed to see me.
“Mr. O'Brien. Didn't expect to see you here still.” Ahmed looked me up and down. “May I come in?”
“I'm afraid not.”
“Why not?” Ahmed pressed. “Where's Miss Riad?”
“In bed, like most of the country at this hour.”
“Forgive my insistence, but I'd like to confirm she's all right.”
“Why wouldn't she be?”
“Were you here all night, sir?”
“Is there a problem, Ahmed? It's a bit early for social calls.” Samantha appeared suddenly at my side, and I couldn't help shooting her an irritated look.
“Sam... Miss Riad. Forgive me for disturbing your sleep. I was worried about you.”
“About me? Why?”
“I think it's better if we speak privately.” Ahmed looked at me. The officer beside him stood like a statue, staring at us in confusion.
“You woke me up at six in the morning to play mysterious?” Sam grumbled.
“We found another body. In a similar condition to your friend, Mr. O'Brien.”
“What? Another body with a lacerated chest?” I asked.
“She looks a lot like you, miss.” Ahmed seemed apprehensive, genuinely concerned about Samantha. “If not for one detail, I might have thought it was you.”
“What detail?”
“It doesn't matter.” Samantha cut us both off. “I'm fine.”
“You didn't tell me where you were last night, sir.” Ahmed turned back to me. “It was a busy night in the city.”
“I was busy grieving the death of a friend, officer.”
“And you didn't leave the house? Maybe drown your sorrows at a bar?” I knew that tone—I'd used it myself a few times with suspects I couldn't arrest yet.
“I”
“He was with me... drowning his sorrows at my place. With the Bourbon I got for my birthday.” Samantha answered for me.
“Did you like it?” Ahmed seemed distracted for a moment.
“It was great. Thank you.” So that explained the smell of alcohol. “Well, now that everything’s cleared up, I need to get back to bed. I’m a bit hungover.”
“Of course. I’ll let you rest a bit. But I’ll need you to come see me today. We need to clarify a few things.” He smiled at her. But his smile faded the moment he looked at me. “Mr. O’Brien, I don’t need to remind you that here you’re just a civilian, right?”
“I’m on vacation, officer,” I replied. “I don’t want any trouble.”
“Right. Enjoy your vacation while you can.” His tone was cynical. “We never know when we’ll get another one, right?”
“It’s the life we chose,” I replied.
“Miss Riad, as a precaution, I’ll have a patrol car make some rounds here. In case you need help.”
“That’s not necessary... but I appreciate the concern.” She gave him a warm smile, the kind she never directs at me.
He gave us both a quick second look before leaving. I waited for the sound of the door closing, then pulled the gun from my waistband.
“I hope you weren’t planning to use that,” Samantha observed.
“I never plan to use a gun,” I replied. “But I’m always ready to.”
“That’s why you can’t sleep,” she muttered to herself, but I caught it.
Samantha went to the kitchen and carefully moved the broken door off the counter to make room for preparing coffee.
With every move she made in the kitchen, I could see her mind spinning. The Bourbon hangover at work. I, on the other hand, felt much better and could finally think clearly with the poison out of my system.
“Did you sleep well?” The words came out almost involuntarily, a jab I couldn’t resist. Her face flushed as she took a sip of coffee. She stood up abruptly, leaving the rest of her cup untouched.
“I’m going to Ahmed’s office to see what I can find out about the new body.” Samantha rummaged through the pockets of yesterday’s clothes. “Have you seen my phone?”
I shook my head.
“I must have lost it in all the chaos yesterday. By the way, does he know yet about our little adventure at the morgue?”
“I think he’s more focused on catching a killer than investigating some silly break-in at the morgue.”
“The guard chasing us seemed pretty motivated by the break-in,” she said, heading to the bathroom with some clothes in her arms.
“Relax. We didn’t take anything,” I said, loud enough for her to hear from the bathroom. “At worst, they’ll think it was some bizarre necrophiliac wanting to see the bodies.”
“Let’s hope so,” she called back.
I grabbed her phone and silenced it, tucking it under my leg when she came out of the bathroom wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, exposing the slender curve of her neck.
“Don’t get into trouble while I’m gone.” She threw a loose tunic over her clothes, hiding every inch of her body—something she always did when walking around the city. “And don’t wait up for me. When I get back, I need to open the antique shop for one of Mr. Omar’s VIP clients.”
“Wasn’t planning to. I’m going to stay here and go over the details we have so far.”
“We have? Are we a team now?” she teased before disappearing out the door without waiting for my answer.
No, we weren’t a team. But I couldn’t define what was going on here either. Ever since I set foot in this place, the heat seemed to be melting my common sense.