Daddy's Little Killer

Chapter 12

The look in his eyes, predatory, hungry, made me question if I said the words my brain formed or the ones that fluttered in my belly. 

"Let's get out of here," he murmured. 

"I'm working, Orion." Still weak, but a little more firm.

"Fuck the job. I want you."

It took more willpower than I imagined I possessed to step out of his light, seductive embrace. "Mr. Orion, the case I'm helping to solve involves the murder of your friend Ms. Foster. I find it odd that you care more about your libido than justice for a friend."

"I'm a master of multitasking. For instance, are you aware that Dumb and Dumber have left the restaurant?"

I glanced at the empty table. "They could be on their way upstairs to ransack my room again."

A wicked grin and a jerk of his head in the direction of the door, "Are you inviting me upstairs, Doc?"

"Not a chance. It's official now, Orion. I've got a badge and a sidearm. I think I can handle it."

"I wasn't aware you lacked either one."

"We weren't exactly truthful with each other Monday night," I reminded him. "Perhaps it's merely a trend we're destined to continue. Meanwhile, the men you refuse to tell me why you're following are probably breaking into my room while we debate who has the tougher mojo."

Orion chuckled softly. "I doubt even those two are foolish enough to break into a room now guarded by private security."

"What?"

"You heard me, Doc. There's a private guard posted at your door. You can thank me later."

"I'll thank you to butt out and mind your own business."

Orion sipped another finger off his scotch and placed the glass on the napkin in front of him. "You assume that's not exactly what I'm doing. I let myself be persuaded to ignore a threat once before. It's a mistake I don't intend to repeat."

"Your mistake is letting your quarry escape."

"My quarry. You make it sound downright Shakespearean, sweetheart. I like it." Orion motioned the bartender to bring another glass. "How's the investigation into Gwen's death going? I heard you had a big day at central this morning. Old George was practically stepping on his tongue over the coup of hiring a bonafide criminal profiler."

"He didn't hire me."

"No? So you're a pickpocket on top of being the cool little liar, eh?"

I swayed close enough to brush his shoulder. "I'd love to know who your source is, Mr. Orion."

"Have you confirmed my alibi yet?"

"We have."

"But you're not convinced of my innocence."

"It's the lies you've told that make me doubt you, Mr. Orion."

"And I believe your dinner date has arrived. Give my regards to Dr. Winslow."

"Not until you tell me the truth," my feet planted firmly, arms crossed over my chest. "What investigation led you to Washington D.C., Mr. Orion? What do you know about why the bumbling PIs are following me?"

Orion lifted his drink, swirled it in the glass and watched the colors flicker in the dim bar light. "I haven't figured that out yet, but I find it damned interesting, considering who I suspect hired them."

My fingers dug into his bicep. "Who hired them, Orion?"

"Tsk. Suspicion isn't evidence, as you well know. But I'll let you know as soon as I can prove my theory."