9. Walker
Chapter nine
Walker
“My sister has been through enough, Special Agent Bennett. I will do whatever I can to protect her from getting hurt even more.” Savannah Callahan-Williams is the epitome of a southern lady with mama bear claws. And for some reason, her being so protective of her sister settles something in my chest.
We stop near my truck and I turn to look back at the house. I can’t explain it but my eyes know exactly where to look—immediately locking in on Vivian’s gaze just in time to see her blush, jump slightly, and quickly step away from view. Was she embarrassed I just caught her watching us?
And why do I like the idea of her watching me so much?
I compartmentalize the amused smile and aim for an understanding expression as I address her sister’s concerns. After a few more minutes of visiting with Savannah, Harlow and I give her our business cards with instructions to notify us if anything else happens. Harlow barely waits for me to pull away from the curb before she sets her all-too-knowing eyes on me.
“That was an interesting interview. What did you think about Vivian Stone?” Her tone is casual, but I know Harlow and if I give an opening, she will eviscerate me with talk of feelings and emotions.
“I think it all went how I expected it to go. I really don’t like the poem she received but I’m also not convinced it’s related to her husband’s murder. It could be coincidental timing or it could be related, but there is zero crossover with taunting threats in our other cases.” I know how to answer a question without giving anything away, and Harlow should know that—she taught me some of the techniques I regularly use.
“Nice evasion and redirect, but you didn’t really answer my question, did you?” She barely holds back her laughter.
“Maybe, or maybe I just don’t have an opinion strong enough to share yet,” I suggest.
“And maybe pigs fly, and maybe I love talking on the phone with my sister. Oh wait, I thought we were just swapping bullshit lines right now, no?”
I grunt in response and leave it at that.
Or at least I want to leave it at that, but Harlow is still Harlow.
“You’re being quiet, even for you. What are you thinking?” Harlow lifts a brow and waits for me to fill the silence as we drive back to Nashville. I adjust the temperature dial as though it personally offended me. Why am I sweating so much right now—it’s not even that hot out today.
“Just thinking through the case and wondering what we’re missing.” And also wondering what the hell just happened. I knew Vivian Stone was beautiful, but I was not at all prepared for how breathtaking she is in person. I glance at Harlow and nope—she’s not buying it.
“And that’s all? You seemed … a bit out of sorts back there. Did your gut think something was off with the widow?” That’s nice of Harlow to give me an excuse for my behavior, but shit.
I’m an asshole.
Vivian is a widow and I’m thinking about her like I want to … what? Ask her out? Woo her? Handcuff her to my bed so I can keep her? I don’t know exactly but if it involves being in her presence, I want more of that. Whether I should or not, is an entirely different issue .
“I’m just considering all of the angles that we are aware of at this point.” I try to sound dismissive but it’s hopeless with Harlow. I wouldn’t mind considering Vivian though. She is the ideal woman, and her generous curves are in all the right places. I want to run my hands over every curve and see if the rest of her skin is as soft as it is on her hands. I’ve always been a boob guy and she might have the most perfect rack I’ve ever seen in my entire life. I could get lost in them and die a happy man. Mustering all of my self-control, I hold back a groan thinking about how incredible they would feel in my hands.
Damn it, I need to clear my head before my co-worker notices how much my cock wants to consider the angles of Vivian’s breasts, the softness of her skin, and everything else about her.
Dentures.
Cats vomiting hairballs.
Listening to people chew loudly.
I crack my neck and try to recall what Harlow just asked me. When in doubt, pivot.
“What was your take on the interview?” I ask without answering whatever mystery question she asked while I was thinking with my dick like a teenage boy.
Harlow snorts a laugh and tries to cover it up with a cough. “I think Vivian Stone is a grieving woman, not only for the loss of her husband but also as someone who is processing a significant deception by a man she clearly trusted implicitly. She may also be dealing with the embarrassment of the affair becoming public knowledge, which is understandable. As far as the case goes, I didn’t get any inclination that she had a guilty conscious and her reactions were all textbook for what I expected to see today. Well, at least I can say that about her reactions. Your reactions? Now those were surprising.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. ”
“Uh huh. You always gaze at women like they are an ice-cold glass of water and you’ve been walking through the Sahara Desert for the last three days.” My head snaps to her—was I that obvious? Harlow breaks out in laughter. “Oh my gosh, your face right now is priceless! Calm down, Walker. No one else would have noticed anything. I was only able to tell you were attracted to her because I’ve known you for so long and well, because I’m me.” She points to herself. “It’s both a perk and a curse of being a child prodigy and all that jazz.”
I can only hope I didn’t do anything to make Vivian feel uncomfortable or her sister suspicious of my motives. Regardless of my attraction to Vivian, I still have a job to do—I just now have a little more incentive to do everything in my ability to keep her safe.
And I suspect, I also now have an absolute angel to dominate my thoughts. Now I can’t help but wonder how she feels about domination …
Dentures.
Cats vomiting hairballs.
Listening to people chew loudly.
Damn it.