The 7th Victim - Alan Jacobson [160]
Robby’s eyebrows raised. “I think I can deal with that, Agent Vail. I’ve got my cuffs with me.”
“And I get really horny.”
Robby smiled. “Then we’ve got everything we need.”
She laughed. “Come on in, you can help me finish cooking dinner.”
THE FAMILY ROOM FIREPLACE was crackling, lit candles were flickering, and the smell of a merlot-based tomato basil reduction sauce filled the entire house. Vail removed the garlic bread from the oven while Robby drained the linguini noodles.
And they were already on their second glass of champagne.
Vail swiveled her head. “You know, I had some paperwork from the hospital somewhere, but I can’t find it. I’ve looked high and low and everywhere in between. Everywhere and in between,” she said, drawing out the last word.
Robby smiled. “Maybe it said not to mix alcohol and pain pills before surgery.”
She could feel a slight bead of perspiration on her forehead, her movements free and a bit easier than usual. The alcohol had hit her bloodstream.
“No shit, Sherlock. I know that, but Bledsoe told me to take my pain meds, codeine, can you believe that? I’d be, like, totally flying now if I’d done that. Codeine and alcohol. You know what that would’ve done to me? Can you believe how that would feel? I’d be, like, shit-faced right now.”
Robby placed his fingers on her lips and smiled. “Shh . . . I don’t know if I should tell you this, but you’re already shit-faced.”
“Not me. Not after only two glasses of champagne.”
“You’re a lightweight, Vail. I’m in total control of you.”
She pulled him close. “And what are you going to do with this control, you detective agent Rob-me Horny-andez?”
He pulled her from her chair and carried her out of the dining room into the adjacent living room, where he laid her on the couch. “I’m going to take advantage of you.”
“Oh, should I call a cop?”
“What’s a cop going to do about it, help us cop-ulate?” He chuckled.
She giggled.
“Maybe he’ll use these,” he said, pulling the handcuffs from his back pocket. But they dropped harmlessly to the floor as he leaned into her and planted a long kiss on her lips. She wormed her arms around his neck and held him close, continuing the kiss, the alcohol melting away the stresses of recent weeks. No, it wasn’t the alcohol, she suddenly realized as he unbuttoned her blouse. It was passion. Love. The release of letting oneself go so completely without fear of total consumption.
They made love over the next hour, the candles flickering above them, hearts fluttering within them. Warm bodies and hot breaths forging a union she had been yearning for all her life, but never had found. Until now.
They lay on the floor in each other’s arms, the fire dying out and the cool air chilling their naked bodies. She drew a throw blanket around her while Robby crawled to the coffee table, where he then peeled away the smooth, red wax sealing the bottle of madeira. He poured a glass for her, then for himself, and they both drank simultaneously. “Ooh, this is good,” Vail said. “Really good.” She instantly felt the rush as the brandy-infused wine slid down her throat.
“I’ll have to thank my friend—”
He was interrupted by the warble of his cell. Vail’s went off a second later. They shared a confused glance, then Robby rose to retrieve his phone. He helped Vail to her feet, but she let out a loud cry and crumpled in his arms. “My knee. Shit. I shouldn’t have been sitting on the floor like that. It’s locked. Shit.”
“I’ll get you some ice.” He carried her into the kitchen and set her down on a stool.
“There’s a gel pack in the freezer.”
He wrapped the pack in a paper towel, then handed it to her.
“Thanks.” She nodded toward the coffee table, where his cell sat. “Who’s it from?”
Robby made his way back to the family room. She watched his butt move as he walked, a pleasing sight that seemed to ease the pain a bit. But maybe it was just the freeze from the ice.
He lifted the phone and checked the display. He looked at Vail, his face turning pale, his eyes conveying confusion.
“What’s wrong?”
“Text from Bledsoe. Dead Eyes code.