Page 184 of Protecting Peyton

“Trust me, this isn’t what I’m wearing tonight.”

I pointed at her feet. “I don’t get why you want to wear such useless shoes.”

“Because they look nice.”

“That they do.” I shouldn’t have complained. My heart thudded hard in my chest at the thought of those heels up over my shoulders.

She could have fun putting on something sexy, and I would later enjoy peeling it off her.

When O’Connor arrived, Peyton grabbed her leather jacket and gave me a kiss, a tiny taste of what was to come.

After seeing her to the car and sending her off with the detective, I returned to help Mom with the dishes.

When my phone rang with Lucas’s ring tone, Pete jumped up. “If he asks, I’m on my way.”

I answered the phone. “Yes?”

“Are you alone?”

“I can be,” I said as I went out the door to the backyard. “I am now.”

“Wellbourne called Boston to talk to O’Connor’s boss and negotiate who gets dibs on this Halligan guy in terms of arresting him—who gets to try him first, if he survives.”

“Uh-huh.”

“His boss didn’t authorize his trip out here. O’Connor said he was taking time off to go to his estate in Florida.”

“Estate?”

“That’s what he called it.”

What cop could afford an estate? “What do you make of that?”

Lucas sighed. “I don’t know for sure, but it’s clear he’s been lying to us. Add in the fact that he shot an unarmed man, and I don’t like it. He may have gone rogue.”

“Shit.” I felt like punching something. Why had I let her go with him? “He just picked up Peyton to take her to LAPD and record a statement.”

“I want to talk to this guy. Which station did they go to?” His tone said O’Connor wouldn’t enjoy the talk.

“I don’t know. He said his DA was coordinating with Wellbourne.”

“Marcus didn’t mention that. I’ll circle back with him.” The irritation in the boss’s voice was clear. “In the meantime, call Peyton and find out where they went.”

“I can’t. She doesn’t have her phone.” Guilt niggled at me. I should have given her mine.

“Then, I’ll find out from Wellbourne.”

Lucas called back less than two minutes later. “We have a problem.”

That was an ominous way to start. “Go ahead.”

“They thought he was going to make it, but Halligan coded this morning.”

“Oh, what a shame.” One less serial killer seemed like a good thing.

“Hold on. The only coherent words he said after surgery last night were, I killed them for O’Connor.”

I ran a hand through my hair. “What the hell does that mean?”