Chapter Twenty-Nine

Gary accelerated to pass the car in front of him, lowered the visor to block the glare from the road. He turned down the stereo and selected the bookstore’s number from his contacts. Impatient, he waited for Kate to answer the phone. When he heard her voice, cool and professional, over his car’s Bluetooth speaker, he said, “You got injured.”

“Gary?”

He slowed at a red light, drummed his fingers on the wheel. The engine purring as it idled. “I heard about the burglary.”

“It’s barely nine thirty. How did you hear about it already?”

“I picked up a coffee from the café. Henry’s wife was there after the school run, telling Neil about the late night her husband had yesterday. Why are you at work?”

“If you didn’t think I’d be at work, why did you phone the bookstore?”

“Lucky guess.”

“It was just a minor concussion.”

“Is that a medical diagnosis or your own opinion?”

“A medical diagnosis.” Irritation crept into her voice. “I have a mild head injury. No broken skin, just a bump.”

“Must be that hard head of yours,” Gary said dryly. He continued quickly, before she could reply to that, “Shouldn’t you be resting?” He checked the mirror, hit the left turn signal and cut across the intersection. A glance at the GPS confirmed he’d make it on time, despite the delay in the café. Updating the security system installed in the office complex would mean running through every aspect with the client, going over the changes that needed to be made in detail. He’d rather go to the bookstore, confirm for himself that Kate was all right.

“I’m only working a half day. I’ll be heading home after lunch.”

“Any dizziness? Be honest, now.” Brake lights up ahead.

“None.”

“You’re not supposed to read after a head injury.”

“Gary, I saw a doctor.”

He doubted Kate would listen to medical advice that required her to stop and rest. But he let it go, for now. “What was taken from the house?”

“We haven’t had time to go through everything yet, but it doesn’t seem like much is missing. A few pieces of jewelry. Small items, easily portable. The ground floor and basement though, cupboards were emptied, pillows slashed.” She paused. “It’s like they were looking for something.”

He wondered if they found what they came for. “Any chance you managed to see who hit you?”

“I didn’t even know anyone was behind me until it was too late.”

It might have been worse, Gary through grimly. He had told Kate he’d take care of it. He should have acted sooner. Open road now, a field speeding past the window. Gary touched the gas. “All right. Promise me you’ll take it easy today.”

“I haven’t even moved any books.”

Gary shook his head. “Well, leave them where they are. Let someone else do that, if it has to be done.”

“I’m sitting in my chair, drinking a cup of peppermint tea. I’m feeling relaxed and yet, at the same time, mildly annoyed, which may have something to do with this phone call. But I think it’s sweet you were worried about me.”

“Good, because I’ll be calling again later.”

“I can hardly wait.” Sarcasm there.

Gary chuckled and disconnected the call.

He had a good idea who broke into the house, who knocked Kate unconscious. Later, he’d pay that man a visit. And issue a warning he wouldn’t easily forget.

****

A movement had Kate looking up. Her expression sobered.

Marcus hesitated in the entrance to the store, the door held in one hand, a white paper bag in the other. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Kate replied warily, waiting to see what Marcus would say.

“I was a horrible friend,” he began. “In fact, I don’t deserve the mantel of friendship. I have hung it in the back of my wardrobe, pushed it aside with self-loathing. Even now, it hangs there still, sparkling sadly to itself in the dark.”

“It does need to be worn with grace.”

“We both said things we shouldn’t have.”

“You started it.”

Marcus nodded. “I did. Regret is a bludgeon upon my soul. Kate, heart of my hearts, light of my life, most kindred of spirits, forgive my foul words.”

“Staying at the house allows me to put my money into Fortune’s Cove. It isn’t easy running a brick and mortar bookstore these days, but I want mine to last.”

“I’ve brought you a scone from the Old Fire-Hall Café as a peace-offering. Please invite me in, but if not, I will leave the bag as a sacrificial offering upon the threshold and suffer the punishment I so deserve.”

“You should take to the stage, Marcus. You’d be perfect in the theatre with your flair for the dramatic.” Kate hesitated, looked at the bag in his hand. “A scone? With or without raisins?”

“With raisins and warm from the oven.” He opened the bag, letting the scent of sugar and flour rise temptingly into the air.

She looked at his hopeful, apologetic eyes and sighed. “Fine. Come in. But I’m still mad at you.”

“Duly noted.” Marcus stepped into the store, letting the door rattle closed behind him. “I heard about the burglary. In fact, I heard it all from the window being broken with a medieval battering ram to everything being stolen but the antique Egyptian emerald that belonged to Ra himself, which was kept hidden in a secret panel in the walls. How are you?”

“Fine. Taking it easy, as instructed.” Kate smiled.

Marcus set the bag down on the counter. “Is there anything I can do to redeem my tenuous, yet stalwart position, as best friend? Or have I forsaken all rights to the term? Destroyed all my chances in a single deluge of callous remarks?”

“Ian did a lot.” There was nothing wrong with making Marcus suffer, just a little.

“That’s good.” Marcus tucked his hands into his pockets. “Any ideas as to who did it?”

“Henry thinks it might have been teenagers.”

“Right.” There was an awkward pause. “Speaking of Ian, how is the happy couple?”

“I’m sensing some tension. He’s still here, anyway.”

The rain-faded light showed up the streaks on the store windows. She made a mental note to clean them soon. “So.” They looked at each other. Kate’s phone vibrated on the counter. She glanced at the message. Thought your skull was thicker than that! Call me or Ethan if you want advice on booby traps. Happy to pilfer the archives. Will share intel on best techniques, for a price.

“Ethan or Chris?” Marcus asked.

“Chris. Offering to relive his days as boyhood menace to ensure my safety.”

“As all good brothers would.”

Kate opened the bag, peeked inside, and caught a whiff of warm buttery baking. “Oh, yum.”

Marcus suddenly leaned closer, narrowed his eyes at her.

Kate moved back. “What?”

He caught hold of her chin in his hand. Studied her profile. Stepped back. Scanned her. Then nodded. “You had sex.”

Kate gasped. “No.” She flushed and avoided eye contact.

“Yes, you did. Who was it?”

Was it that obvious? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Hm.” Marcus snuck a piece of the scone.

“I thought that was for me.”

“Liars don’t deserve baked goods. Share. It may redeem your karma.” He grinned.

Kate narrowed her eyes at him. “Keep your voice down!” At the moment, they were alone in the store, but a customer could enter at any second. She didn’t want a stranger overhearing personal details. “Fine. I may have…done something of the kind,” she admitted.

“I knew it.”

“Stop gloating.”

“Difficult.” He rocked back on his heels, studying her. “Specifics: something of the kind, or the whole thing?”

Kate stretched luxuriously. “The whole thing.”

“Now who’s gloating?”

Kate felt a slow, wicked smile spread across her face. “That would be me.”

“That’s right. The first step is admitting it. It suits you.”

“Which one? Gloating or sex?”

“Both.” Marcus picked up a post-it from the corner of her desk, flipped it against his palm absentmindedly.

“Be careful with that note. I have no idea what’s on it, but it might be important at some point in time.” He reached across and stuck it on her forehead. She crossed her eyes at him, plucked it off and slapped it onto the edge of the otherwise useless computer.

“All right, out with it. Who was the lucky gentleman?”

Kate leaned toward him and whispered, “Gary Fenris.”

“Blimey, Kate.” Marcus rubbed his jaw. “Was it good?” He held up a hand before she could say anything. “No. Stupid question. I’ve seen how the man walks. Of course it was good. I can just imagine.”

“Hey, cut it out.” She shot a quick jab to his shoulder. “Some privacy, please.”

“Right.” Marcus shut his eyes for a second. “Curtain drawn.”

“Thank you.” Kate broke off a corner of the crumpet.

“Okay, here?” Marcus pointed at his face. “Green with envy. When? Where? How?”

“I really don’t think I need to go into the logistics.”

“Cute.” Marcus waited.

“Okay. When? Last night. Where? The tower. How? All I can say to that is, if you have to ask…”

“The tower?” His eyebrows rose.

“It was spontaneous.”

“I’ll say.” Marcus grinned. “Dare I give voice to my pride?”

“Ha ha, funny man.” She reached for the last bit of pastry, but he got there ahead of her. “Hey! What’s the big idea?”

“You had sex. You don’t get the last piece.” He popped it into his mouth.

“Well, some peace offering that was. It seems less selfless when you don’t eat most of it yourself.”

Marcus tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “If he hurts you—” he began, his expression suddenly fierce.

Kate cut him off before he could finish the threat. “I’ll take care of him myself. I welcome input on creative torture methods, but that’s it. The line is drawn.”

“I know, but-”

“I don’t need you or anyone else fighting my battles for me,” Kate said firmly.