Quinn - Iris Johansen [98]
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“EDWARD HUMPHREY.” Catherine looked up as Gallo came in the adjoining door from his bedroom. “Avis Rental. Residence is in Detroit, Michigan. Venable is contacting the FBI and trying to dig deeper. It’s not unusual for a suspect to use the same pseudonym any number of times. There may be a way we can sift it and come up with the right identity.”
“Or not.” He strolled over to the window and pulled back the drape to look down into the motel parking lot. “It may be better to do a little probing ourselves.”
“Is he down there yet?”
“No.” He let the drape fall back in place. “But it’s still early. He may want to give us time to get settled.” He dropped down in the beige easy chair beside the window. “I’ll be the one to go for him. Okay?”
“No, it’s not okay. How do I know that you’d do a better job than me? We’ll discuss it later.” She wearily rubbed her temple. “But right now, I’m going to take a shower and change my clothes. I still smell of earth and bark and shrubbery.”
“And rotting leaves.” He smiled slightly. “What a shame. I’ve grown to like it.”
“Which only proves how weird you are.” She got to her feet and moved toward the bathroom. “Call me if you need me.”
“Oh, I will. You’ll be the first to know.”
She inhaled sharply as she looked back over her shoulder. Sensuality. Intense and unexpected. Everything had been pragmatic and commonplace. Yet suddenly there was this searing awareness.
Don’t address it. Ignore it.
She quickly closed the bathroom door behind her. Ignore it? Her body was responding the same way it had when she’d watched him wading out of the lake and coming toward her.
She threw off her clothes and stepped into the warm shower. A few minutes later, she was soaping her hair and body. The clean white tile surrounding her was completely different from the primitive lake and forest. No comparison.
Except for the way her breasts were swelling as she thought about Gallo. Except for how her skin felt flushed and silky … and ready to touch.
She had thought that she had overcome the sexual magnetism that had so shaken her. She had coolly separated her emotional and physical feelings from logic, instinct, and reasoning. Had she just been fooling herself?
No, she wouldn’t accept that she would deceive herself just to get what she wanted. The desire might still be there, but it wasn’t what had caused her to embark on this search for Jacobs.
But it could get in the way, dammit.
And Gallo wasn’t going to try to tamp it down or walk away from it.
She stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel from the rack.
That was okay. She’d do whatever she thought was right for her and let Gallo please himself. She was only responsible for her own path. Catherine had never asked anyone for help except Eve. But there had been no question that she would ask Eve to help her find Luke. Her son was Catherine’s life, and she’d been willing to sell her soul to find him.
And she hadn’t called Luke for the last three days, she realized. It had been toward the end of the hunt, and she’d been completely obsessed with capturing Gallo. Which was another reason why she should distance herself from him. Nothing should keep her concentration from her son. They had not been together for nine years; she owed him all her attention.
She threw on a pair of black pants and white T-shirt and was toweling her hair dry as she opened the door.
Gallo was still lounging in the easy chair, his legs stretched out before him. “Now you smell of lavender. Pleasant, but I miss the—”
“Rotten leaves,” she inserted. “I wish I’d never told you about them.”
“I’m not. It fascinated me learning about Hu Chang and your Hong Kong connection. I studied your dossier before I met you, but it’s the details that create the 3-D image.” He added, “I ordered sandwiches and coffee from room service. Would you like anything else?”
She shook her head as she took out her phone. “I’ll eat later. I have to call my son.