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She would be interested in seeing if he came around to visit when this was over.
She guessed the answer to that would be yes. That would be her answer, also, if he did arrive on her doorstep.
She might have still been of two minds to get involved with anyone, given what she was in London to achieve, except he had held her in the garage as if she were precious.
She had never had that before.
She wanted it again.
Another soft noise came from the door, and she realized James was silent, the steady breath she’d fallen asleep to had stopped. She slid out of bed, walking on bare feet around the screen, to find him staring at the door from the window, alert and focused.
He glanced at her, put a finger to his lips.
He looked disheveled and, as Liz would say, yummy.
He stood, meeting her in the middle of the room, and she stepped close to his side. After a moment’s hesitation, he slid an arm around her.
She stood still in shock for a beat, then smiled inside and hooked her own arm around his waist, pressing herself against him. He had obviously decided to let repercussions be damned.
Her door knob twisted silently, and there was the faintest of rattles, as someone tried the door.
James drew away from her, moving to the tiny kitchenette, and picked up the frying pan hanging from the hook on the kitchen wall. He flipped the handle, spinning the pan in an easy movement, then walked to the door and slid the bolt, then opened the door and swung the frying pan at the same time.
There was a sound of pain and a thud as someone hit the floor, and she saw the frying pan lift up and hit down a second time.
“What’s up?” Jerome’s voice sounded hoarse and sleepy. He seemed to wake up in a hurry. “Wotcha?”
“Is there a telephone in this house?” James asked, voice calm.
“Down the road, there is. At the corner.” Gabriella stepped into the doorway, saw James standing over the man who James had followed into the pub—Mr. Knife’s henchman.
James looked relaxed, as if the sleep on her window sill had been just what the doctor ordered. He held the frying pan loosely in his hand, but it looked like the man was down and out.
Jerome looked up at her, eyes wide, hair standing straight up from his head. “I’ll go phone. Who’d you want to call?”
“If you could call PS Yates from the Notting Hill nick, that would be very helpful. Tell him DS Archer has apprehended a suspect involved in the recent stabbings and kidnap, and I require back up at this address.”
“This one is involved?” Jerome lost some of the stiffness in his posture as he studied the downed man. “For sure?”
James looked over at Gabriella, and she nodded. “For sure.”
“Be my pleasure.” Jerome disappeared back into his flat, and for the first time, Gabriella realized he had only been wearing a pair of flannel pajama pants.
When he came back out, a minute or two later, he had pulled on sharp boots which he’d paired with dark purple pants and a tight black t-shirt. As he walked past the henchman, he kicked him with a pointy toe.
The man groaned with pain.
“Clumsy me,” Jerome sing-songed as he ran down the stairs.
“You look chipper,” Gabriella observed, leaning against the doorjamb.
James sent her a wide grin. “Finally I have an actual person I can arrest in this case.”
chapterthirty-one
Now that DI Whetfordhad had some involvement in the case, it seemed he was determined to look like he was running it.
James leaned back against a wall in the superintendent’s office, arms crossed, and watched him stumble through the questions he was being asked.