A Killing Tide (Columbia River Thrillers Book 1) by P.J. Alderman

Author:P.J. Alderman [Alderman, P.J.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2013-12-22T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

When Kaz came downstairs at dawn the next morning, Michael was standing in her kitchen, watching coffee drip, and tending an omelet. He'd dropped by late the night before, staying long enough to leave Zeke and bump up her blood pressure, even though he hadn't come within ten feet of her. He was the last person she'd seen before falling asleep, and now he was the first person she was seeing after awakening. Which didn't feel as awkward as it should've.

This morning he wore snug-fitting jeans and another sweater that did illegal things to the width of his shoulders. He looked annoyingly well rested—an effect she had yet to achieve, between her nightmares and her doggy-breath bed companion. She considered snarling.

He glanced at her as he expertly moved the two halves of the omelet onto plates. "Morning."

She grabbed a mug. "Don't you have a kitchen of your own?"

"Still packed."

"How'd you get in?"

"Zeke let me in." She narrowed her eyes at him, and he cocked his head toward the kitchen door. "It was unlocked." He pointed the spatula at her, his expression stern. "That was careless."

"But I locked it," she protested, confused. "I checked all the doors and windows before I went to bed. Zeke got restless around midnight and started pacing. But after a few minutes, he settled down. And no one was in the house or he would've gone crazy."

"Maybe he scared someone off before they got inside. Who has keys to this place?"

"Lucy and Gary, that's it." She prayed that he wouldn't ask the next obvious question—whether Gary had been there. She didn't know if he'd come back, and she didn't want to lie to Michael any more than she was forced to.

"You keep a spare key hidden outside?" Michael asked.

"No."

"Would Lucy come in and not tell you?"

She shook her head.

"What about what's-his-name—Chuck?"

An interesting question. Had Chuck come back last night to keep watch? She shivered. "Maybe, I don't know. He's been hanging around."

Michael's expression turned grim. "You didn't tell me that."

She shrugged. "When I confronted him, he said he was looking out for me."

Michael seemed dissatisfied with her answer, but he didn't press her. He brought the plates over to the table, sat down, and nodded at hers. "Eat."

She sampled the omelet and was pleasantly surprised. Okay, so he could cook. She didn't have much luck with omelets, but this one was cooked to perfection, lightly browned on the outside and filled with a fragrant mixture of grilled vegetables and some kind of creamy, tangy cheese. She dug in.

He sipped his coffee, seemingly content to watch her. "Where's Zeke?"

"In my bed," she answered between mouthfuls of food. She shot him a dark look. "Your dog has as much nerve as you do."

One side of his mouth quirked.

"Hey." She pointed her fork at him, irritated. "I didn't ask you or your dog to invade my life. And I sure as hell didn't ask you to stop by and fix me breakfast, or to—to—"

"Show you what you might've been missing all these years?" At her snort, he grinned.

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