Page 42 of Fatal Vision

“My deadline isn’t up,” he said to Connor, and then, “Why didn’t you tell me you were on your way this morning?”

“What deadline?” Shelby asked.

Connor set the black duffel on the floor and flopped into Colton’s seat at the kitchen table. He grabbed a piece of bacon and started munching. “The only way to get this security system to you first thing this morning was for me to deliver it.”

“Bullshit,” Colton said. “Beatrice could have overnighted it with one of the carriers.”

Connor shrugged, finishing the strip of bacon. “She was afraid it might get damaged in transit.”

Colton silently called bullshit a second time. Beatrice didn’t believe he could handle himself and this situation. She’d sent Connor to babysit him.

Wasn’t that fucking priceless?

Connor pointed at the nearly empty French press. “How’d the coffee turn out? Looks like okay by the piddly amount left. Can I have what’s left? Airline coffee sucks.”

“What deadline?” Shelby asked again.

Colton, fuming, turned away from her and went to the French press. He poured the last of the liquid into a cup for Connor and set it in the microwave to heat. “Nothing, Shel. Don’t worry about it.”

Connor leaned over and unzipped the bag, pulling out the security system receiver and a couple of window sensors. “Our boss has a job for Colton when he gets back, so she’s given him a deadline.”

From his peripheral vision, Colton saw Shelby eyeing him. “This comes first,” he told her over his shoulder. “I’m not leaving until I know you’re safe.”

“Colton, if you need to get back to work…”

He swiveled. “I don’t. Everything’s cool.”

He shot a glare at Connor, telling him not to argue, but he could see in the way Shelby narrowed her eyes, that everything wasnotand she was going to interrogate him later.

“Well,” she said to Connor, “while I’m thrilled to see you, I feel terrible that you had to personally fly to Oklahoma just to bring a security system. I can’t believe your boss would go to such expense.”

The microwave dinged and Colton handed the steaming cup to his friend, who was about to be on his shit list. “Drink your coffee and be on your way.”

Connor blew on the hot liquid and motioned at the black box on the table. “Beatrice said to help you get this set up.”

“I don’t need help.”

“I’m here, you might as well put me to work. Or I can run Shelby to her PT today. She is still under a doctor’s care, right?”

Shelby tried to hide a smile. Colton crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m doing her physical therapy.”

Taking a sip of the too-hot coffee, Connor choked it down. “Not bad. So let me get this straight. You’re playing bodyguard, physical therapist,andyou’re investigating who shot Shelby, all on your own.”

“And fixing the bathroom sink,” Shelby added.

Colton huffed. “Yeah, so?”

“Come on, man,” Connor said, exasperated. “Let me help.”

“No.”

“Colton!” Shelby shot him a chastising look. “Connor came all this way. Don’t be rude.”

Colton leaned on the counter. “He came because our boss ordered him to keep an eye on me.”

Connor took another sip of the coffee and stood, grabbing the receiver off the table. “I’m not leaving until I get this security system installed, so suck it up, Bells. You want to argue with someone, call B.”

He slapped Colton on the back as he walked by, leaving Colton steaming harder than the microwaved coffee.