Ten Plagues

“I think I’ll go back to the mission to sleep.”

Keren glared at him.

“What?”

“You’ve been Detective Morris all day. Can you give it a rest?”

Paul smiled. “Give what a rest? What’s that mean?”

Scowling, Keren said, “I’m going to go in first to see her.”

“Why should you go? You don’t even know her.”

“Then I’m going to sleep the whole rest of the night on that stupid couch and you can go in once an hour and hopefully spend some time trying to regain your sanity.”

“Hey, I’m sane.”

Keren arched a brow at him.

“I just need some sleep so I can do my best to solve this crime.”

“Good, shut up then, and get some sleep.” She jabbed her finger at the torture chamber that was almost his home. “Right there. You’re going to need it.”

She stomped off, and Paul caught himself watching the way she moved. Not one single appropriate thought in his head.

While he tried to get comfortable, Paul seriously considered leaving and sleeping at the mission. Even those beds were better than this lousy couch. He’d decide after he saw LaToya, but it felt right. Leaving, resting, was the best thing he could do to stop that lunatic Pravus.

The next thing he knew, he was waking up.

He ran his hand over his bristly face. He felt grungy and shabby and he was sick of it. “I’ve got to get a shave.”

Instead of going to the mission, he decided he’d swing by the station house for a shave and shower. He could get the latest on the investigation. Maybe call the task force together to bat ideas around. He looked down at his ratty clothes and wondered how to get something clean and sharp. The press might be around. He could speed up this investigation if he slipped Caldwell’s name to the press.

“I’m checking into a hotel for a few days just to get some decent sleep.” He spoke aloud just as he fully heard the bustle of the hospital around him and realized with a shock that it was morning. It brought him to his feet. He’d slept through the night. He hadn’t gone in to see LaToya once.

The door to LaToya’s room swung open. Keren came out, tucking her cell phone in the pocket of her blazer. “You’re awake, good. Rosita just called. She’s on the way over. Manny’s escorting her. We can get into that lab supply store by eight.”

He was embarrassed to have missed his turn visiting and let that twist around to annoyance. Keren could have awakened him. “We don’t need to wait for Rosita. What are the chances LaToya will wake up in the next few minutes?”

Keren stared at him. “But Paul, you’ve been so insistent that she not be left alone.”

Paul ran his hand over his face again and wondered what he looked like. She seemed to be looking at something she didn’t like.

“The best thing we can do for LaToya is catch the man who did this.” He felt the cop in him talking. He fought it but couldn’t seem to quite get his head clear of that analytical coolness. “She won’t really be alone; there are doctors and nurses around. Let’s go.” Paul took a step toward the exit.

“Just one stinking minute!”

He turned back to her. “What? Let’s get going.”

She stood militantly in front of LaToya’s door, with her hands planted firmly on her hips. Boy she was a feisty little thing. Cute, too.

“We’re not leaving her here alone.”

“Why don’t we see if we can get a police officer on her door?”

“Because we’re trying to keep her low profile. We don’t want the fact that she lived to get out. Besides, you’re the one who didn’t want to leave your friend’s side.”

“I’ve got a good feeling about today. I want to get going.” He pulled the keys out of his pocket and tossed them in the air. “We can get this guy before he does somebody else.”

“Before he does somebody else?” Keren walked toward him with narrowed eyes. “That’s all you’ve got to say about this nut carving on a friend of yours? What is wrong with you? I’m standing here tied up in knots, expecting to hear word on Wilma any minute, and you’re tossing my car keys in the air as if you’re enjoying yourself.”

Feeling wildly out of control and enjoying it, Paul tossed the keys again just to watch her fume. Keren didn’t disappoint him. She snatched them in midair. He took a half a step toward her and caught her hand. He pulled her closed fist up between them.

“I’m driving, Keren.” He smirked as he pried her fingers open.

Keren clamped her hand tightly closed. Paul pulled her closer until their tussling hands were the only thing keeping their bodies apart.

He looked up from their impromptu wrestling match and noticed how rumpled and sleepy-eyed she was. “You know, you’re really cute when you’re mad.”

Controlling all her fire would be a delicious pleasure. It churned him up inside until he hooked one hand around her waist, yanked her hard against him, and lowered his head to taste all that temper and spirit.

She slammed her fist, complete with car keys, into his gut.

With a grunt of pain, Paul stumbled backward. “Why’d you do that?”

“Here’s a newsflash. I’m not cute when I’m mad. I’m mad when I’m mad!”