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“What are you doing?”
“I was checking to see if we’re being followed by Paul’s black SUV.” Cath faced forward and immediately shielded her eyes against the early morning glare coming through Mitch’s windshield. Somehow, she’d managed to sleep last night, and “tomorrow” had become “today.”
Mitch reached across the truck console to clasp her hand. “I don’t see any SUVs in my mirrors.”
“He’s going to the same place we are. And there are only so many ways to get there, especially with street barricades for the Mardi Gras parades.” Her stomach somersaulted, and she tried deep breathing. In less than an hour, she would have survived being the decoy and Mitch’s brothers would have Paul in custody.
If all went according to plan.
Mitch inched along behind a yellow school bus. “You said he agreed to meet at the church.”
“Yeah, he did. What if one of his cronies planted a GPS tracking gizmo on your truck?” She rubbed her arms. “They would know where we are this very minute.”
“Don’t worry, Cathy. DiMartino isn’t following us. There’s no tracking device on this baby.” He patted the dash.
She rubbed her sweaty palms down her thighs. “How can you be sure?”
“I swept underneath before we left the garage yesterday afternoon.” The school bus stopped, and Mitch braked.
“You carry a detector around all the time?”
“You didn’t see it in my toolbox?” He dropped his hands in his lap, his gaze seeking hers. “I don’t want surprises from angry fugitive relatives. I figured you knew what I was doing.”
“I didn’t notice. I had my eyes closed, thinking about Les’s phone call. I’m the big sister who always looked after him.” She huffed out a breath. “I hope he doesn’t run off today once he finds I don’t have any money.”
The edge of her protective vest dug into her hip, and she pulled her shoulders back as far as they would go. Mitch had insisted she borrow one of Kurt’s, but she would have to stand like a statue at their rendezvous. The thing came to the middle of her thighs, and she really did walk like Frankenstein. No pretending.
“We could be wasting our time, and everyone else’s too.” She twisted her four-leaf clover pendant. “Hal says assumptions are dangerous.”
“I said the same thing, you know.”
Every one of Mitch’s words remained indelibly engraved in her memory. Mostly because she’d found what he said so irritating. Until she didn’t. Now she took the risk of treasuring each word and sentence because who knew how long they had together.
He sat waiting for her response, his gaze taunting her, and her heart lurched. The crease his smile put in his cheek, the shadow that defied his freshly shaved face, the tiny gold flecks lurking in his brown eyes—everything about this man tugged at her. Should she tell him all this now?
“Are you really at a loss for words?”
“You wish.” She laughed. “When did you tell me about assumptions?”
“The night I walked you back to your apartment after the ghost tour.” Mitch lifted an eyebrow. “Tell me you don’t remember that.”
“What I remember about that night is trying and failing to get rid of you.” Cath zipped her parka.
“You didn’t realize at the time, but I’m an ace bloodhound.” The ends of Mitch’s mouth twitched.
“But so much prettier.” She patted his jaw. “That must explain why you were hanging around outside my door the next morning.”
He nodded slowly. “Once I latch onto a scent, I don’t let go.”
“How do I smell?”
He sniffed her extended arm. “Delicious.”
Their gazes caught. She leaned toward him. He bent his head toward her. She pressed her lips to his. “That’s your reward, Mr. Bounty Hunter Bloodhound.”
He flicked a glance out the windshield. “Uh-oh.”
Side flaps shot out from the bus and the flashers started. The doors opened and a shaft of sun sparkled on the rim of the bass drum descending the steps. Band members in purple and gold uniforms flooded onto the sidewalk. Cath glanced at the time and sagged against her seat. “This must be where the parade assembles.”