Page 51 of Deep (Chicago Underground 8)
“You’re wasting your time here.”
Philip spread his arms wide. “I didn’t come here to hurt her. I’m not armed. You can pat me down if you like.”
“Not even a knife strapped to your ankle,” Luke asked, raising an eyebrow back at him.
That earned him a laugh. “Okay, so I didn’t strip down completely either. The point is, someone talked. It’s reasonable to see if Shelly may have let something slip—”
The door opened behind Luke, and Shelly stepped onto the porch wearing a tank top and yoga pants. Even now, with her hair loose and no makeup, she looked more glamorous than I could ever hope to be. “Reasonable,” she said drily. “That’s how everyone describes you.”
“Shelly,” Luke said, his voice a warning.
She shot him a look. “I let you play bodyguard, didn’t I?” Then she stepped close and enfolded me in a warm hug. She had lost some of her sardonic edge since she’d quit being a call girl and started working at the women’s shelter full-time. “God, sweetie. We heard from a guy Luke knows on the force.”
“It’s crazy. I’m worried sick.”
She pulled back with a concerned expression. “Worried about what?”
“You know, my brother.” I blinked. “What were you talking about?”
Shelly gave Philip a speaking glance. “The mess at your dorm. Him taking you out at gunpoint. Jesus, Philip. You held a gun to her head?”
Philip just stared at her, lids low. He didn’t say the safety was on. Maybe because he knew it wouldn’t absolve him. Or maybe because he wanted people to think the worst of him.
Except for me.
Luke wrapped his arm around Shelly’s waist. “Maybe we ought to invite them inside, seeing as he doesn’t plan to shoot anyone tonight. It sounds like there’s more to this story than we know.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
SHELLY’S HOUSE HAD honey-colored hardwood floors and wooden furniture with thick knobs and fat legs painted white. The sofa was made from a soft kind of corduroy, so lush I wanted to sink into it and never leave. I had always found it deeply restful.
Less so now.
She went directly to the kitchen, which opened to the sitting area. She pulled out a pot and filled it with water. “Chai?” she asked.
“Yes, please.” It was my favorite kind of tea, and Philip’s expression turned speculative. I wasn’t sure he knew we’d maintained a friendship after those dark times.
But then if he’d been watching me, he knew everything about me.
Luke turned a chair away from the kitchen table and sat, elbows on his knees, his hands steepling in front of him. “I heard that you were taken from someone who’d been at the scene, that you hadn’t been found. I was hoping Philip would do the right thing. Especially with a warrant over his head.”
Philip appeared unrepentant. “That warrant is bogus.”
Shelly came to sit while the water heated. “Raine called to tell me he may have inadvertently sent you to me, that someone was targeting Ella because you knew her. At least it made sense why you’d been at her dorm, protecting her.”
Philip said nothing to that.
The uncertainty must have been visible in my eyes, because he gave me a half smile. There was a challenge there, daring me to push him away. And there was enough vulnerability that I couldn’t.
I took his hand in mine, so large and powerful and scarred.
A sense of possessiveness grabbed hold of me, stronger than anything I’d imagined. He said that I was his, but the truth was that he was mine too. He had come to that dorm room to protect me. “Thank you,” I whispered.
After a long moment he said, “There’s too much piling up. Too many coincidences. First someone attacks me on my way to you and then—”
“So you were coming to me,” I said softly.
His expression grew dark. “Yes. I wouldn’t have let them touch you.”
