Death at Kismet by Starr Diethorn

Author:Starr Diethorn [Diethorn, Starr]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-03-03T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

Richard grumbled under his breath as he drove home in a sour mood. Practicing at the range earlier helped him relieve some tension, but only for a short while. The futile meeting with Shah had stoked his anger, and he felt keyed up again. Despite its wholesome intent, Kismet struck him as a den of rats that needed to be fumigated.

He went for a run, even though the sky was growing dark and the temperature was dropping. When he went upstairs to change his clothes, he placed a quick call to Rose.

“I have a chicken pot pie almost ready. I’ll bring it over and we can eat at your place.”

“Sounds good, babe. Thank you. Bye.”

He held a small flashlight and ran slowly at first before he pushed his body faster than his usual pace. He looked forward to this time of year when the days became shorter, and the migrating birds began their journey south. The sharp smell of wood smoke drifted in the air and the crisp autumn leaves crunched under his rapid feet. His thigh muscles burned in protest, but he welcomed the sting. His evening bath would repair the soreness.

The pain helped him focus on his own discomfort and avoid the recollection of his brother’s death and the recent violent incidents. He could not protect any of them. His fury toward greedy drug pushers and brutes who savaged women fueled his strength, and he ran swiftly like a shadow through the twilight streets.

When he returned home, he felt the deep sense of calm that eluded him earlier. The tension short circuiting his mind was gone. Rose stood in his kitchen, enticing as a siren. She handed him a glass of cold water. The savory scent of roasting chicken, sage, and vegetables filled the room. He could hear a fire crackling in the hearth. He drank some water and then pulled her into his arms. They kissed deeply.

He enjoyed the taste of her lips and whispered in her ear. “You’re a ray of sunshine, my beautiful Rose.”

She gasped as he buried his chilled face in her neck. “Oh, your nose is cold.”

“I know just the way to warm it.” He gently nipped at her tender skin, relieved to feel calm again.

“My dear Mr. Prince, whatever will the neighbors think?”

“Damn the nosy neighbors. Let them have their own sex.”

“Right-o. Dinner will wait.”

He raced upstairs as she turned down the oven temperature so the pie wouldn’t burn before joining him.

When he came out of the steamy bathroom, the aroma of shea butter clung to his damp skin. He stripped off his towel and joined her under the covers. With roving hands, he tickled her, and she squealed and giggled.

“Oh lord, stop it. I can’t catch my breath.”

He complied and held her warm body close.

“That’s the silliest foreplay I’ve ever experienced,” she laughed.

“That wasn’t foreplay, my darling. This is.”

She drew in her breath as he strategically caressed her.

“Mm, that feels good,” she whispered as they kissed. “What’s next on the menu?”

“Mm, my succulent Rose, you are.

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