“You get used to it.”
“The Neu-Ryans again?” Ed said as soon as Sam closed the door, stepping from the dining room.
“They brought pie this time. Dastardly of them, wasn’t it?” Sam said, taking the box past Ed into the kitchen with the invitations balanced on top.
“You can go if you like. To the barbecue.”
“With you? Maybe you’ll luck out and it’ll be a cloudy day.”
“No, thank you.”
“It wouldn’t kill you to invite them over for dinner.” Sam opened the box on the kitchen island and moved to grab a knife—then grabbed a fork instead. “Or even a conversation.”
“What are you doing?” Ed ignored his comments as Sam bent over the box.
“Are you going to have any?”
“No.”
“All right, then.” Sam dug in, taking a large bite with his fork and licking away the cream that caught on his lips. “Delicious.”
He really would be….
“May I ask a question?”
“Huh?” Ed straightened, torn from his staring. “Certainly.”
“Agoraphobic?”
“No,” Ed said with a laugh. “I love open spaces. I go for walks all the time.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it. So, you only avoid people?”
“I avoid the sun.”
“Then invite your neighbors over for dinner.”
“I’m… not good at connecting.”
“You connect fine with me.”
“It’s harder when there are more.”
“You mean crowds?”
“Why so many questions all of a sudden?” Ed groused. He kept eyeing Sam’s renewed forkfuls with envy, but pie wasn’t what he wanted.
Sam didn’t answer him but took another generous bite, chasing every morsel of custard and cream and holding Ed’s gaze as if daring him to drop his eyes to his lips.
Ed dropped them to the counter. “I move so frequently, it gets harder as I get older to say goodbye.”
“No family or friends and no desire to make any. Sounds lonely,” Sam said, foregoing his fork finally and taking a large swipe at the top of the pie with his finger, drawing Ed’s attention again as he brought it to his mouth.
“Sometimes….”
“Maybe some unexpected connections could be good for you.”
“Yes… maybe.”
“Like dinner.” Sam took another swipe and popped it into his mouth.
“Or that finger.”
Sam froze, eyes snapping up, finger still caught between his lips.
“Sorry!” Ed jerked upright, having sunk to his elbows while watching Sam. “I am so sorry. I can’t believe I said that. You should go,” he rushed on when Sam opened his mouth to speak. “It’s been a long day. But you’ll… come back tomorrow, won’t you?”
Sam huffed a shaky chuckle. “I can, but we have to wrap up. I’m committed to that other offer, and I’ve already been postponing—”
“I know. End of the week? Through Friday? Please, we still have so much to cover.”
“Okay. I can make that work.” Sam closed the pie box, taking the fork and one of the invitations. After setting the fork in the dishwasher, he made a show of sticking the invitation to the fridge.
“Point taken,” Ed said, not that he had any intention of making nice with the Neu-Ryans once Sam was gone.
Gone….
“And Sam,” Ed added when Sam made to leave. “If Friday’s going to be your last day, maybe you can finally tell me your version of Hades and Persephone.”
“Sure,” Sam said with a soft smile. “Why not? See you tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow,” Ed said, wishing he could hold off the end of the week for as long as possible.
End of the week. Final warning.
Sam noticed the text message as soon as he pulled up to Lucifer’s Rest. He knew he’d been stalling, hoping to stumble across some vice or evil deed to justify robbing Ed, but they’d found nothing. At first it had been easy to make excuses, because Ed was the one requesting an extension, but the Cramers wouldn’t wait much longer.
Worse was that it was only getting harder to be around Ed, their flirting becoming more blatant even without trying. Sam certainly hadn’t meant to be so obscene with that pie, just like he didn’t think Ed had meant to imply he’d enjoy licking it off him.
Sam shouldn’t be pushing Ed toward a friendship with a detective and a reporter, though. They were nice, wholesome even, but not stupid. They might figure things out before Sam made his getaway. He just hated the thought of Ed being out there all alone after he left.
Especially with murderers in their midst.
Shaking his head, Sam shoved his phone back into his pocket without answering. He’d deal with them later.
The pie probably hadn’t fared too well in the compartment of his bike seat, but it would still taste good, he figured, as he retrieved it and headed into the bar. Mim and Gerry were in their usual booth, waiting for him. Lara was at the table, a pretty little thing with dark hair. Gerry was smiling dopily at her while she took their order.
She had remarkable patience, since Gerry tended to fawn without ever making a move. She always made a point to be their server, though.
Sam started toward them but hadn’t taken more than two steps before a pair of rough hands seized him by the shoulders, and the next thing he knew, he was being shoved into the men’s room. The pie thudded to the floor as he was slammed up against the wall.
“Hey there, Sammy. Having trouble getting your text messages?” Alverez yanked him forward to slam him back again, turning his vision spotty when his head made impact.
“I-I got the message!”
“You didn’t answer, and that got us all concerned.”
“I was driving!”
“Excuses, excuses.”
Alverez made to yank Sam forward again, but Shaw and Fitz came up on either side of him like a silent warning to hold back—Good Cop, Bad Cop, Worse Cop, only Sam didn’t know which was which.
“Next time you get a message, answer,” Alverez said, making a show of smoothing out Sam’s shirt for him.
“I thought compliance was implied.”
“Or you’re chickening out,” Shaw said. “With the way you’ve been stalling—”
“That’s Simons’s fault. I can’t let him grow suspicious. Timing is everything. The neighbors—”
“We don’t care about the neighbors,” Fitz barked. “You knew there’d be risks. You agreed to this job as soon as you heard the price tag.”
“Because I didn’t know who I was working for!” Sam growled.
Alverez made to grab him again, but Shaw moved in faster, suddenly going from being at Sam’s side to in his face with her forearm pressed to his windpipe.
He wanted to thrash back, ram his head into hers, and fight like hell, but that momentary surge of panic and rage was squelched by common sense. The missing persons reports kept getting worse, a new body found each week, and it would be too easy for him to become the next one.
“Now, now, Sammy boy,” Shaw warned, “I thought we were friends.”