Kissed Blind (A Hot Pursuit Novel Book 2) (4 page)

Oliver nodded and smiled. “Please, sit.”

After the odd fruit incident, the rest of breakfast went smoothly. Cici had ordered enough food to feed a small army, and Oliver had plenty of other options to choose from. While Camille and Oliver ate, Vance toted Camille’s bags to the second floor and left Cici to unpack the luggage. Everyone finished their breakfasts, and morning faded into late afternoon.

Cici left to get groceries, escorted by Vance at Oliver’s insistence. When they returned, Cici went into the kitchen and unloaded, and Vance kept her close company. While she put everything away, they stole little glances at each other. The muscles in my back stiffened, and I lowered my chin, looking on with a cold stare. When I couldn’t take watching the blatant flirtation anymore, I picked at my fingers to distract myself.

By early evening, Camille emerged from her room upstairs with no hair out of place and joined Oliver on the sofa. She tossed a few of the pillows out of the way and curled her legs up before releasing a sharp sigh. Oliver shot her a sideways glance. He gathered his paperwork into a neat pile and placed them in a bag resting at his feet.

“Diana?” Oliver asked.

“Yes?”

“Camille and I were thinking of getting out to see a little bit of the city tonight. Nothing fancy. She’s still a little jetlagged.” He blindly reached back and placed a hand on her thigh. “We need something low key and away from crowds. Any suggestions?”

I took a moment and ran through a few options. “There’s a nice walkway that runs along the river close to here. It leads into a new park and you can see some of the bridges along the way. There might be a few people out walking, but it’s supposed to be a little cool tonight. That should keep the crowds down.”

He turned to Camille. “How does a walk sound? We can grab a quick bite. You’ve been up in the room all day. I’m sure you’re starving.”

“I bought some sushi,” Cici called from the kitchen. “I can plate it up for you if you’d like.”

Camille put her feet on the floor and leaned toward Oliver. “She hears everything, I swear. Nothing is private around here.” She lowered her voice in an attempt to whisper, but I could hear her from across the room.

“It’s just the acoustics in here,” Oliver said. “Sound really carries in this place.” He faced the kitchen. “That sounds nice, Cici, thanks.”

Camille reluctantly agreed to eat. They ate sashimi with chopsticks at a glass topped table where Camille was all too eager to point out the difference between sashimi and sushi to Cici. Cici took the criticism in stride and made the rest of us sandwiches.

After Camille ate, she excused herself to freshen up. Nearly an hour passed before she returned with her makeup retouched. She’d slipped into skin tight jeans, black booties with spiked heels that said everything but “let’s take a walk,” and a baggy knit sweater. I’d heard the camera added ten pounds, but in Camille’s case I estimated twenty, and that was to her benefit. In person, she was exceptionally thin.

When Oliver tossed on his jacket, we were off, and Cici stayed behind to clean up the kitchen. Vance brought the Rover up to the front of the building, and we took the short drive down the road to the walking path.

I stepped out of the car and pointed to where the path began. “The walkway starts over there. Vance and I will hang back here and give you some privacy.”

Camille and Oliver threaded their fingers together, and she briefly put her head on his shoulder. Something about the gesture seemed forced, almost fake. As they began their stroll, Vance and I scanned the surroundings. Other than a few runners and walkers, Camille and Oliver kept to themselves and were unnoticed. When we made it halfway to the park, a person began following us.

I nudged Vance.

“I see him,” Vance said.

“Paparazzi,” Oliver said over his shoulder. “It’s fine so long as they keep their distance.”

“They always find us, don’t they?” Camille said.

“A necessary evil.” Oliver shoved his hand in his jacket pocket while still holding tightly onto Camille with the other.

“Indeed. The only thing worse than them talking about you is them not talking about you.” She chuckled.

“You want me to go handle it?” Vance offered.

“No,” Camille answered. “They’re usually harmless when they’re alone. It’s when they’re in swarms that we need to be careful. This is nothing, right?”

Oliver agreed with a nod. “Let him take his pictures. It’s a beautiful night. I won’t let him ruin it.”

They made it down to the park where they took a few moments to admire the scenic views of the suspension bridge crossing from Ohio into Kentucky. After exchanging a few quiet remarks and stealing kisses from each other, they began the trek back.

Near where they started their stroll, Camille and Oliver stopped to sit on a metal swing facing the river. Vance and I kept a comfortable distance. Camille laid her head on Oliver’s shoulder, and they lazily rocked back and forth. The paparazzi who’d followed, snapped picture after picture. Camille threw her head back in an exaggerated laugh. Even from a distance, I could hear the shutter on the photographer’s camera clicking endlessly. If nothing else, Oliver and Camille put on a good show. 

The evening light began to disappear as dusk settled, and the temperature dipped to an uncomfortable low. I shivered and shoved my hands in my pockets, and Oliver called an end to their public display of affection.

“This has been nice, and it’s been a beautiful night, but I know your California blood is feeling the chill.” Oliver held out his hand to lift Camille off the swing.

“Oh, how you know me well,” she said as he wrapped his arm snugly around her shoulder.

On the way to the car, they strolled next to a row of dancing fountains that shot out from the ground. On hot summer nights, the mini geysers would be littered with children playing in wet clothes and sagging diapers, but as it was cool and the light low, the water was brightly lit by various colors of the rainbow without a child in sight.

Out of the corner of my eye, a tall figure walking toward us caught my attention.

Four

As Oliver and Camille continued to walk, a man approached us with his head down, wearing an oversized hoodie and dark jeans. For the area, his attire was ordinary. He looked like an average street thug or drug dealer, but his gait was odd. I withdrew my hands from my pockets.

His steps, large and wide, shouted he walked with a purpose, like a businessman late for a meeting. He went straight toward Camille and Oliver, and his face was covered with some sort of cloth. Camille, distracted, pointed to something off in the distance, pulling Oliver’s attention away from the threat Vance and I saw.

Vance pushed Camille and Oliver back, shielding them with his body. “You two hang back for a second.”

I approached the masked man, but he stayed his course. “Hey, excuse me.” I held up a hand to grab his attention, but he paid me no mind. “Hey! Stop!”

He paused, and his intense, dark eyes darted to mine. “Move, little girl. This isn’t about you,” he growled, reaching into his pocket.

I wasn’t going to wait to see what he pulled out and stepped toward him, yanking his hand from his pocket; his other struck my cheek. It ignited a level of rage few ever got to witness. I shook off the pain. I’d practiced similar fights thousands of times and could do this with my eyes closed. Tightening my hold on his wrist, I turned my body, thrusting my elbow into the middle of his thigh. He grunted but recovered from the blow as if I’d been a mosquito he’d smacked off his leg.

“Get the fuck out of my way.”

He shoved me to the ground, and the force took me down, but I whipped my leg around and tripped him. His hands slapped against the pavement, and a medium-sized switch blade bounced from his pocket. I sprang from the ground and stepped on his hand as he went for it, hoping to break a few of his bones.

“Fucking bitch! Get off,” he spit through clenched teeth. He pulled his hand from beneath my sole; I wasn’t heavy enough to hold it down.

I glanced at Vance who directed Oliver and Camille to a safer location behind him and was punched on the top of my hip bone. A split second later, I took another hit below my navel. Dropping next to him, pain exploded under my skin and shot down my legs. I rolled on my back in agony and clutched my abdomen. “Vance,” I choked.

The man was up and had grabbed his knife, continuing toward Camille and Oliver. Vance had already moved toward him with his gun drawn. The instant the man saw Vance, he held up both hands as if to surrender. He retracted his blade and motioned to put it in his back pocket. From Vance’s angle it looked like he had, but from mine, I saw it was a sleight of hand trick. It remained tucked into his palm.

“Vance,” I croaked, but my voice was barely audible against the sound of the fountains.

“I should shoot you for what you just did, asshole! Get outta here!” Vance was pissed, but since he’d shot and killed a man months ago, he wasn’t eager to relive the experience. “Go! Before I change my mind.” He hesitated for a second but lowered his weapon.

The fire burning beneath my skin raged like an inferno, and my abdomen cramped like I was having a period from hell. I fought to see past the pain. The man didn’t back down from Vance, but he didn’t advance either.

“Back off and we’ll be cool,” Vance warned. “Or I’ll wipe the ground with your ass, pony boy.”

I clawed at my holster, but my weak fingers fumbled with the snap. The man lunged at Vance. He raised the knife and slashed downward across Vance’s torso. Vance curved his spine, but not enough to escape the blade’s wrath.

“You sonofabitch!” Vance said, holding a hand to his shirt. Blood seeped through his fingers. “I’m going to make you pay for that.”

He raised his gun, and I drew mine.

“Get on the ground!” I shouted.

The man stopped when he saw both guns aimed at him. He held up his hands, eyes amused, and took a few steps backward. He retracted the blade and continued moving away from us. He eased the knife in his back pocket and showed us his empty palms. “You wouldn’t shoot an unarmed man, would you?”

I couldn’t see his mouth, but I bet he was smiling. He sprinted away from us. Crossing the street, he dodged a car whose horn blared and headed up the sidewalk. He hopped in an awaiting vehicle and sped off. I ran to Vance. His hand was covered in bright red blood.

“Jesus, how bad is it?” I tried peeking at the wound hidden beneath his hand.

He clutched his shirt and brushed me off. “He just nicked me. I’m fine. We need to get them out of here.”

We hurried over and got Camille and Oliver back to the car. I took the wheel while the others loaded in. The moment I was seated, the pain I’d been enduring from the gut punch began to subside a little.

“Get him to a hospital,” Oliver said.

“No, I’m fine,” Vance said. “We’ll get you two to safety and then worry about me. It looks worse than it is.”

“Are you sure?” Oliver asked.

“Yes. Go, get them out of here.” Vance pointed to the road ahead.

“Then… then…” Oliver grunted. “You’ll need to drive around and make sure that photographer doesn’t follow us. He got an eyeful tonight, but no one knows where we’re staying yet, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

I nodded and pulled onto the street, checking my mirrors. After getting into a gentle flow of traffic, a car cut off a cab behind us.

“Cut up to Main and get over onto Sixth,” Vance said.

“Worry about you. I’ve got this.” Although Vance was the self-proclaimed tactical driving expert, I wasn’t half bad. He had a hard time letting go of the reins though.

I wound through the streets, crossing up various roads and doubling back when I could. The car, an older model Saab without a front plate, kept up with us most of the way, but got lost behind a Metro bus in a construction zone. I drove back toward the river, throwing in a few extra zigs and zags, slowing my speed after confirming I’d lost him.

“Good job,” Vance said.

“Thanks. How’re you?” I glanced out of the corner of my eye at his shirt. It had gotten bloodier.

“Still fine.”

“You guys okay back there?” I asked, checking on them in my mirror. Oliver and Camille held hands and leaned toward the middle of the back seat.

“Yes, we’re fine,” Oliver said.

I pulled into the garage below the building, using Oliver’s key card to get past the electric arm, and parked in his spot. Once inside the elevator, Oliver and Camille stepped toward the back, and Vance and I blocked the doors. Camille waited until they shut to break down.

“Oh my God! What the hell was that?” Her arms trembled at her sides.

“It’s okay. Crime can happen anywhere any time. We were lucky it wasn’t worse, but Vance and Diana handled it.”

“Lucky?” Her eyes opened wide.

He sighed. “He looked like a drug addict. I’m sure he was just looking for money and when he saw us, a well-dressed couple strolling along, he probably thought we’d be an easy score.”

“Actually,” I began and leaned against the side of the elevator. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“She’s right.” Vance stopped clutching his wound and zipped his jacket to cover his bloodied shirt.

“Why?” Oliver furrowed his brow.

“When I approached him, he told me to get out of his away. He wasn’t interested in me,” I said.

“He seemed dead set on getting to both of you,” Vance added.

“Oliver…” Camille’s eyes filled with tears.

Oliver took a second to digest what we’d said. “Still think I’m being dramatic for needing bodyguards?”

Her head tilted, and she blinked excessively. “Really?”

“I’m sorry. It’s the stress. I’m still processing everything. I didn’t mean that.” He pulled her into a hug. “It’ll be all right. He didn’t get either of us. They didn’t even let him get close.”

“He’s bleeding!” She pulled out of his embrace and motioned to Vance with a few erratic hand gestures.

“Don’t worry about me. This is nothing. My sisters have done worse to me with their fingernails growing up. We’ll get you both settled in for the night and take off so you can relax.”

Camille swallowed. “Yeah, like that’s gonna happen.”

The elevator doors opened onto their floor. Vance stepped out first, confirming the hallway was clear before we proceeded into the penthouse. When the door closed, Cici’s voice called from upstairs.

“Hey, you guys are back already?” She stopped midway down the stairs when she saw the expression on everyone’s faces. Camille sat on the couch, and Oliver was already pouring dark brown liquor on the rocks into a tumbler. He walked it to Camille, and she raised it with unsteady hands to her lips.

Cici scanned everyone’s faces. “What happened?”

“Some drug-crazed madman tried to kill us on our walk,” Camille said.

Cici looked at Vance, and her eyes shot open when she saw his blood-stained fingers. “Oh my God! You’re hurt!” She ran to Vance and attempted to lead him to the kitchen.

“It’s a scratch,” he politely fended her off but walked to the sink and washed his hands.

“Please, go have that checked out at the hospital,” Oliver said. “Cici, let them handle it. We’re safe here for the rest of the night. The guard downstairs won’t let anyone up and we’ll lock the doors. We’ll be fine.”

“Fine. We’ll be fine?” Camille narrowed her eyes. “I’m not fine.”

“Cici and I have made sure this building is secure, and Vance and Diana have confirmed it.”

Camille laughed. “Yeah, I’m sure you spent hours and hours researching it.” She rolled her eyes.

Oliver took a deep breath and exhaled while looking up. “Please, go and clean your wound. Diana, be sure to put some ice on your cheek, it’s starting to swell.”

“I’ll be fine. Thanks,” I said.

Vance and I confirmed the next day’s schedule before leaving. When we were by the car, Vance snatched the keys from my hand, and I immediately took them back.

He held up his hand. “Hey, I’ll—”

“Shut up. No you’re not. I’m driving.”

He sighed and slid into the passenger seat. “Fine, but I don’t need to go to the hospital.”

“Your shirt is saturated. You need stitches.”

He unzipped his jacket, glanced down, and pulled his shirt out to inspect the carnage. “Saturated? Hardly. I’m fine.” He frowned and slapped his hands down on his thighs. “Damn it, I loved this shirt. Another one bites the dust.”

“If you won’t go to the hospital then you’re coming to my place. And you can lock up the complaining before you even start… or I’ll call your mother.” I wouldn’t have called her, but the threat alone was enough to grab Vance’s attention.

“You wouldn’t call my mother.”

I reached into my pocket, retrieving my phone. “Wouldn’t I? I don’t know? I’ve got her on speed dial. I remember how mad she was when you didn’t call her after you got shot.”

Vance’s lips thinned, and his stare grew hotter by the second. “I swear to God, if you push that button…”

“Chill. Don’t get your panties in a bunch. I’m just messing with you. But seriously, I don’t know what kind of cleaning supplies you have on hand at your place. I have everything to patch you up. God only knows what was on the tip of that man’s blade. Have you had a tetanus shot lately?”

He glared at me and blew a hot breath through his nose.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” I shot him a toothy grin. “Why don’t you call Cavanaugh and tell him what happened?”

“This doesn’t sound like a fair trade at all,” he grumbled.

Vance called our office and reported the incident. Since the client was uninjured, a standard report was filed through one of the office workers. After, Cavanaugh had him report the assault to his buddy, Commander Rivas at Cincinnati’s District Five police department. Being retired from the force, Cavanaugh remained connected, and those connections had proven beneficial a time or two.

When we arrived at my apartment, Vance sat at the kitchen table, and I grabbed him a cold Coke from the fridge. He folded the tab back and took a few big gulps.

“I’ll go get the stuff to patch you up,” I said.

“It’s just a damn scratch. I don’t know why everyone is being so dramatic. It’s not like my guts are falling out. I barely feel it.”

“Once the adrenaline wears off, you will. Shut up and take your shirt off.”

He chuckled and shook his jacket off his shoulders and started to remove his shirt. “Oh, kinky, now that’s what I’m talking about.”

“You’re disgusting.” I shot him a death stare and walked back through my bedroom and into the bathroom. In the closet, I gathered peroxide, gauze, cotton balls, some super glue for skin I lifted from my last stay in the hospital, and medical tape into a little plastic basket.

“Okay,” I began while walking through the archway leading into the kitchen. “I hope you’re not going to be bash—” My words got lost somewhere on my tongue when I saw Vance shirtless. I looked down at the basket in my hands. I’d seen Vance in ratty gym wear a thousand times, but I hadn’t seen him half naked since the night in his bedroom when he kissed me. I wasn’t prepared, or rather, I didn’t know I needed to be prepared to see him like that.