Page 51 of Peacemaker

Chapter Sixteen

I’ve got this

My ringtone woke me up just a little after eight o’clock a.m. Shane reached across to the nightstand, grabbed the phone, and poked me with it, his eyes still closed, until I took it.

“Shit,” I muttered. I sat up and rubbed my eyes, then answered.

“Mayor Delaney is holding a press conference at ten a.m.,” Crawford said, sounding a little too sunny. “I thought you’d want to be there.”

“Yeah.” I yawned hard enough to crack my jaw. “I’ll be there, damn you.”

He laughed and hung up.

I lay back and snuggled against the two warm bodies between which I’d slept, unable to resist closing my eyes just for a minute.

Fifteen minutes later I was jarred out of a sound sleep when my phone, which I’d held on to, even in my sleep, began to ring again.

“Captain,” I said. “What? What is it?”

“You fell back to sleep, didn’t you?” he said, cheerfully.

“I’m up.”

“I’m going to murder that motherfucker,” Shane muttered.

I hung up, planted a kiss on Shane’s lips, then climbed over Clayton to get out of the bed. He slept on his stomach and I paused for a second to watch him, my gaze traveling from his tousled hair to his bare back, and then lower, to where the sheets barely clung to his perfect, naked ass.

Damn Mayor Delaney. And damn Frank Crawford.

Clayton opened an eye as I leaned over to kiss him goodbye. “I’ll come with you.”

“No. Get some sleep. I’m just going to City Hall. I’ll be fine.”

He was asleep before I’d finished speaking.

I let a cool shower wake me up and was out the door twenty minutes later.

The entire city was hysterical. People gathered in groups, loud and frantic, and the press was out in force.

Law enforcement drove slowly down the streets and walked the sidewalks, and it took me fifteen minutes to find a place to park near city hall. The many steps leading up to the building were crowded as half a dozen interviews were being conducted, but it didn’t take me long to spot the mayor and the entourage that surrounded him.

I pushed my way through the crowd and walked up the steps, then stood listening as he told people how to protect themselves—to remain inside from dusk to daylight until the curfew could be lifted, to wear their barrier glasses against the possibility of being mesmerized, and to double up on their silver. He made promises he’d never be able to keep about making the city safe again.

Asshole.

I knew Frank would have told him that the rifters were going uninvited into homes and that they were immune to silver. But the mayor babbled on about silver and locked doors anyway. It was all he had.

He was very charismatic, our mayor. Slender, my height, perfect hair. Boyishly handsome, charming, quick brown eyes, a ready smile. He had a confident air about him that made people believe they could depend on him.

“We have it under control,” he lied. “I promise you.”

I crossed my arms and glared. “You don’t have anything under control, Mayor. Last night’s attacks were nothing compared with what’s coming.”

Reporters started shooting questions at me, the crowd began muttering, and I couldn’t hear a word the mayor said. I strode toward the bank of microphones in front of him, but two large men in suits immediately shoved me back.

“Hey,” I said, stumbling. “Keep your hands off me.”

“It’s all right,” the mayor said. “Let her come up. Come on up, Ms. Sinclair.”