Page 83 of Fatal Strike
While they enjoyed the shelter of a live oak, insects hummed and birds sang, creating a whimsical and peaceful setting. The sun glistening off the pond and an accompanying hint of a breeze had no similarities to her previous home in New York or her Houston apartment.
She picked up her phone when it dinged with a text message.
“No work this afternoon,” he whispered.
“This is an agent who has connections with CPS. Her sister-in-law is a social worker. I talked to her yesterday.”
“Right. We need info for Rawlyns.”
She sent the reply text and slipped her phone back into her purse. “Is meeting with Silvia at the Galveston jail in the morning okay? She wants to see if Henry is one of Dylan’s friends.”
“The first time we met her, you said she was guilty of loving Dylan. Now we know more about her history.” He shook his head. “Breaking the law to protect him only makes the consequences worse.”
Leah’s sympathy for Silvia deepened each time they talked. “For her sake, I hope she and Dylan are innocent, and he’s alive.”
Her phone alerted her to a text. Leah had a confirmed time to contact a social worker that evening.
Twenty minutes later, sweat dripping down her back, her line dipped. Then jerked slightly. “Do I have a fish?” she whispered.
“Stay cool,” Jon said.
Her heart pounded like she’d just gotten a SWAT call.
“Take your time and reel it in. When it gets close to the bank, lift it out of the water.”
Leah concentrated on landing her first fish—a perch, according to Jon. The fish wiggled in desperation. “It’s very small.” She watched Jon unhook it for her, then she tossed it back in. “When it grows, I’ll catch it again.”
“Celebration time.” Jon reached into a cooler and handed her a cold bottle of water.
She twisted off the lid and drank deeply. “Tastes wonderful.” She recapped it. “Ever swim here?” She remembered to whisper.
“Sometimes.” Before she could protest, he gathered her into his arms.
“Jon, I’m drenched.”
“Me too. But we’re celebrating.” His lips met hers, and despite the heat, the fish, and her misgivings about a relationship with him, she returned the kiss.
The temps grew hotter. She leaned back and reached for her pole.
“Rather be facing an army of armed terrorists?” he said.
She drew in the truth. Jon was exactly what she wanted, needed, in a man. The fright of reality made her want to run.
“Where do we go from here?” he said.
“Time for this lady to head back to Houston and shower. I’ll have to drive with the windows down.” She stepped back and kept her distance.
“Are you afraid of being kissed again?”
Before she could think of something clever, he’d reached out and reeled her in again ... like a fish. His lips on hers stole her breath, leaving her dizzy. When it was over, she didn’t attempt to escape his arms. “Thanks for teaching me how to fish, the analogy, and the lovely afternoon.”
“The kiss?”
“Get over it, partner.”
Their first real kiss, actually kisses, and she smelled worse than the fish.
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