Circus of the Damned   ::   Гамильтон Лорел

Was he Jean-Claude's creature? I didn't think so, but then again. . Caution is always better. If I was wrong, I'd apologize later. If I was right, I'd be disappointed in Richard but glad I hadn't told.

"Let's just say we lost today."

"You're alive," Edward said.

He had a point.

"Did you almost die today?" Richard's voice was outraged.

What could I say? "It's been a rough day."

He glanced at Edward, then back to me. "How bad was it?"

I motioned my bandaged hands at him. "Scrapes and cuts; nothing much."

Edward hid a smile in his coffee mug.

"Tell me the truth, Anita," Richard said.

"I don't owe you any explanations." My voice sounded just a tad defensive.

Richard stared down at his hands, then looked up at me. There was a look in his eyes that made my throat tight. "You're right. You don't owe me anything."

I found an explanation slipping out of my mouth. "You might say I went caving without you."

"What do you mean?"

"I ended up going through a water-filled tunnel to escape the bad guys."

"How water-filled?"

"All the way to the top."

"You could have drowned." He touched my hand with his fingertips.

I sipped coffee and moved my hand away from his, but I could feel where he had touched me like a lingering smell. "But I didn't drown."

"That's not the point," he said.

"Yes," I said, "it is. If you're going to date me, you have to get used to the way I work."

He nodded. "You're right, you're right." His voice was soft. "It just caught me off guard. You nearly died today and you're sitting there drinking coffee like it's ordinary."

"For me, it is, Richard. If you can't deal with that, maybe we shouldn't even try." I caught Edward's expression. "What are you grinning at?"

"Your suave and debonair way with men."

"If you're not going to be helpful, then leave."

He put his mug down on the counter. "I'll leave you two lovebirds alone."

"Edward," I said.

"I'm going."

I walked him to the door. "Thanks again for being there, even if you were following me."

He pulled out a plain white business card with a phone number done in black on it. That was all, no name, no logo; but what would have been appropriate, a bloody dagger, or maybe a smoking gun? "If you need me, call this number."

Edward had never given me a number before. He was like the phantom—there when he wanted to be, or not there, as he chose. A number could be traced.