Read Online Dark Knight: A Loveswept Romance Classic by Donna Kauffman - Free Book Online Page B

sun was well over the horizon. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so deeply, much less for so long. In that waking realization, he had immediate and full cognizance of where he was and why … and what condition he was in. It was then he noticed the heavy blanket lying smoothly over him. Chained and shackled, yet he’d slept like the dead. He raised his gaze and spotted Scottie standing beside the couch. She was up and dressed, either in the sameclothes she had had on yesterday or ones just like them. Black was definitely her color.
    He felt an immediate tug. That it was more an emotional one than a purely physical one, had him climbing awkwardly from the bed without asking permission. Truce time was over.
    “You’re up,” she said, as he came into the main room.
    Hearing her smoky voice had an odd, unexpected effect on him. She sounded warm, cozy … inviting. It was a voice he decided he could easily wake up to every morning. He looked at her, then simply nodded and headed, chains rattling, to the bathroom. He needed a few more minutes to wake up.
    She was at the kitchen counter when he came out. A quick glance around told him where she’d slept. The couch had been shifted slightly to give her visual access to the bedroom.
    He pictured her, curled up on the couch, watching him as he slept. It didn’t bother him the way it should have. No, the thought of her falling asleep while watching him didn’t seem to bother him at all.
    Then he noticed a blanket balled up in one corner and a pillow that looked as if it had been used for punching practice. Apparently she hadn’t fallen asleep watching him. But a long, sleepless night for her was a good thing for him. Funny, but he had a hard time reconciling himself to that fact.
    It was a bit easier when he realized what she was doing. She was cleaning a gun. His gun.
    “Scottie?”
    “What?” she said, sparing him a brief glance.
    “What is that short for anyway?”
    She snapped the magazine into his Glock and chambered a bullet. She aimed across the room and sighted down the barrel. “Anunsciata.”
    She’d surprised him again by answering. And what an answer. He whistled. “Hell of a moniker, princess.”
    She scowled at him. “Scottie. You asked. Use it.”
    Oh, I plan to
, he said silently.
I plan to
. “Your family Catholic, huh?”
    “My mother was.”
    “Your father must have loved her to let her hang that on you. I’m almost afraid to ask what your last name is.”
    “The only thing my father loved was the force. It was his life, his mistress, his wife, and his religion.” She laid the gun down and faced him. Her expression was as blank and empty as her tone had been. “You got a permit for this thing?”
    “Uncle Sam is sending out field agents to track down unregistered handguns now?” She didn’t so much as blink. He sighed, wishing she weren’t such a compelling puzzle. She kept giving him pieces but none of them seemed to fit together. He hated puzzles. Until he solved them. She folded her arms, waiting. “Yes,” he said finally, “I have a permit. It’s in my wallet.”
    “Which is where?”
    He shrugged. “I don’t feel a real warm sense of sharing here.”
    She shrugged. “It’s a cruel world, Blackstone.”
    “Not even a simple trade?”
    “I doubt there is anything in your wallet that will give me information I don’t already have, so your bargaining power is slim to none.”
    “Can you tell me why the government is suddenly sointerested in a guy hanging out in an old cabin in Montana?”
    “Who says I work for the government? I thought I was a cop?”
    He lifted his hands, palms up. The chains clanked together. “Listen, why don’t we cut the bull, okay?”
    She smiled. “I don’t recall being the one shoveling it.”
    “You know a lot about me. You’re not local. I think I have you pegged pretty well. And I also think we both know what the common bond is here, so I’ll stop the wordplay and treat