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Authors: Debby Giusti
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hand.
“I’ll walk you home,” he said.
Violet flipped her cell closed and stood. “Really, I’ll be fine on my own.”
He raised his brow.
She sighed. “Okay, I know. A girl’s got to be careful.”
He grabbed her coat from the closet and helped her slip it on. Shrugging into his own jacket, he held the door for her.
The night had turned even more frigid. Clay wrapped his arm around her shoulders as they hustled along the sidewalk. Violet’s coat was lightweight, and she enjoyed the warmth of his embrace.
Stars twinkled overhead, and the moon—a bit larger than last night—lightened their path. As if there had been an unspoken pact, they turned to frivolous chatter that made them both laugh as they climbed the steps to Violet’s porch. An inside lamp glowed through the window, and the porch light brightened the stoop.
Clay took the key from her hand and unlocked the door. “Let me check the house before you go in.”
He quickly moved from room to room, opening closets and glancing behind furniture and into the corners. Tonight, Violet appreciated his concern for her safety.
He returned to the porch. “Everything looks okay. I noticed the laundry-room window was locked and the curtains drawn.”
“I’m trying to do what you tell me,” she said, feeling her lips twitch with mischief.
“Just remember the danger hasn’t passed. I’ll keep an eye on your house throughout the night so don’t worry. My cell phone stays on. If you hear anything that doesn’t sound right, call me.”
“I don’t need a bodyguard, Clay.”
“Cut me a little slack, Violet.”
He smiled in an alluring way that made her neck tingle and her internal temperature rise.
Quickly as it came, the smile vanished. Stepping closer, he caught her chin with his right hand and looked into her eyes.
Her heart skidded to a stop.
“Thanks for making my day a little brighter.”
Violet sighed. The man had a way with words.
Then he turned on his heels and walked down the steps. Violet watched him hurry across the street, feeling a longing grow deep within her.
How could she sleep knowing he was on guard? The longer she was around Clay the more confused she became. As much as she wanted to stand on her own two feet, she let down her guard whenever he was near.
She needed to be careful. Yes, the mob posed a threat, but the way her body reacted whenever she was with Clay caused her more concern at the moment. Despite his good looks and rugged individualism, she needed to remember the bottom line.
She didn’t trust cops.
SIX
C lay had acted like a love-struck teenager, wrapping his arm around his girlfriend as he walked her home. Fact was he’d wanted to kiss Violet. The thought tingled through his gut as he opened Bernice’s front door and stepped inside the house. He would have liked to kiss Violet about a million times to see if that sensation ever subsided. Clay doubted it would.
Hanging his jacket in the closet, he noticed the fresh floral scent of Violet’s perfume that clung to his shirt. He sniffed the sleeve that had wrapped around her on the couch then chuckled at his own reaction.
Get a grip, old boy.
Old? Thirty-five was hardly over the hill. But Violet had to be ten years younger. To him, the difference seemed insignificant. Age wasn’t the problem.
He poured a cup of coffee, hoping the caffeine would snap him back to reality. He needed to talk to Jackson, but he didn’t want the FBI agent to hear anything in his voice except a law officer’s focus on his job.
Taking a long swig of the coffee, he pulled out his cell and tapped in Jackson’s number.
“I spoke with Violet Kramer,” Clay said when theagent answered. “She’s got friends who don’t seem to have a problem feeding her information.”
“Not surprising for a reporter.”
“Violet mentioned an informant.”
“The woman at the coffee shop?”
“I’m not sure, but the informant has some connection with the Martino family.”
“Did
“I’ll walk you home,” he said.
Violet flipped her cell closed and stood. “Really, I’ll be fine on my own.”
He raised his brow.
She sighed. “Okay, I know. A girl’s got to be careful.”
He grabbed her coat from the closet and helped her slip it on. Shrugging into his own jacket, he held the door for her.
The night had turned even more frigid. Clay wrapped his arm around her shoulders as they hustled along the sidewalk. Violet’s coat was lightweight, and she enjoyed the warmth of his embrace.
Stars twinkled overhead, and the moon—a bit larger than last night—lightened their path. As if there had been an unspoken pact, they turned to frivolous chatter that made them both laugh as they climbed the steps to Violet’s porch. An inside lamp glowed through the window, and the porch light brightened the stoop.
Clay took the key from her hand and unlocked the door. “Let me check the house before you go in.”
He quickly moved from room to room, opening closets and glancing behind furniture and into the corners. Tonight, Violet appreciated his concern for her safety.
He returned to the porch. “Everything looks okay. I noticed the laundry-room window was locked and the curtains drawn.”
“I’m trying to do what you tell me,” she said, feeling her lips twitch with mischief.
“Just remember the danger hasn’t passed. I’ll keep an eye on your house throughout the night so don’t worry. My cell phone stays on. If you hear anything that doesn’t sound right, call me.”
“I don’t need a bodyguard, Clay.”
“Cut me a little slack, Violet.”
He smiled in an alluring way that made her neck tingle and her internal temperature rise.
Quickly as it came, the smile vanished. Stepping closer, he caught her chin with his right hand and looked into her eyes.
Her heart skidded to a stop.
“Thanks for making my day a little brighter.”
Violet sighed. The man had a way with words.
Then he turned on his heels and walked down the steps. Violet watched him hurry across the street, feeling a longing grow deep within her.
How could she sleep knowing he was on guard? The longer she was around Clay the more confused she became. As much as she wanted to stand on her own two feet, she let down her guard whenever he was near.
She needed to be careful. Yes, the mob posed a threat, but the way her body reacted whenever she was with Clay caused her more concern at the moment. Despite his good looks and rugged individualism, she needed to remember the bottom line.
She didn’t trust cops.
SIX
C lay had acted like a love-struck teenager, wrapping his arm around his girlfriend as he walked her home. Fact was he’d wanted to kiss Violet. The thought tingled through his gut as he opened Bernice’s front door and stepped inside the house. He would have liked to kiss Violet about a million times to see if that sensation ever subsided. Clay doubted it would.
Hanging his jacket in the closet, he noticed the fresh floral scent of Violet’s perfume that clung to his shirt. He sniffed the sleeve that had wrapped around her on the couch then chuckled at his own reaction.
Get a grip, old boy.
Old? Thirty-five was hardly over the hill. But Violet had to be ten years younger. To him, the difference seemed insignificant. Age wasn’t the problem.
He poured a cup of coffee, hoping the caffeine would snap him back to reality. He needed to talk to Jackson, but he didn’t want the FBI agent to hear anything in his voice except a law officer’s focus on his job.
Taking a long swig of the coffee, he pulled out his cell and tapped in Jackson’s number.
“I spoke with Violet Kramer,” Clay said when theagent answered. “She’s got friends who don’t seem to have a problem feeding her information.”
“Not surprising for a reporter.”
“Violet mentioned an informant.”
“The woman at the coffee shop?”
“I’m not sure, but the informant has some connection with the Martino family.”
“Did
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