the backseat of the car. “And that’s not an emotional judgment.”
“No,” Eve said as she climbed into the passenger seat. “It’s more like faith.”
* * *
“HOW ARE YOUR FEET?” Gallo stood in the doorway of the kitchen, his gaze on Catherine, who was sitting in a chair by the stove, her bare feet soaking in a pan of warm water. “I’m glad you’re taking care of them. Salt water?”
“Yes.” She met his gaze across the room. “I always take care of myself.”
His lips twisted. “Quinn wouldn’t agree with you.”
“Joe thinks I’m ‘emotional.’” She looked at his feet, encased in boots. “You tore your feet up, too, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You deserve it. You were stupid. I had no choice. But you could have just kept quiet and let yourself be driven back to the house.” She sloshed her feet in the water. “Did you bandage your feet before you put on those boots?”
“Yes, I take care of myself, too.” He came toward her. “Where are Quinn and Eve?”
“They’re calling Jane MacGuire. Eve promised to keep in touch with her.”
“And Eve always keeps her promises.” He took the towel draped over the chair next to Catherine’s. “Did you call Venable again?”
“No, but he called me and said he’s on his way here. He asked a favor of New Orleans Police Department, and the forensic team should be here anytime to check out that truck.”
“He’s moving fast.” He fell to his knees, took her left foot out of the water, and enveloped it in the towel. “It’s not that urgent, is it? Not to the CIA.”
“No. And Venable has no real reason to come down here. He knows I can take care of it. Which means that he has another reason to move in.”
“You’re obviously valuable to him.” He was gently patting her foot dry. “He wants to make sure nothing happens to you.”
His hands were warm through the terry of the towel, and his position at her feet and the action itself were unbearably intimate. She felt a rush of heat go through her.
Not now. The searing sensuality was unexpected, and she felt the tensing that was now familiar. Pull away from him.
She didn’t move. She watched him slowly move the terry over her foot. Each stroke was causing her to tense, the blood to rush beneath the skin at his touch. “Venable isn’t that protective. He wants something.”
“What?” He placed her foot on the floor and lifted her other foot from the water. He began to dry the top, then cradled it in the towel. “You have beautiful feet.”
“No feet are beautiful. Some of them are just not ugly.”
“You’re wrong.” His hands tightened around her foot, his eyes focused on the towel. “I never dreamed I had a foot fetish. I keep thinking where I’d like to put—” He drew a deep breath. “That’s not where I meant this to go.” He began to dry her foot again. “I’m constantly becoming distracted when I’m around you.”
“Where did you mean it to go?” she asked unevenly. “I’m curious to know, Gallo.”
“I wanted to tell—” He lifted his gaze to meet her eyes. “I never wanted him to kill you, Catherine. No matter what Quinn says, I’d never do that. You trusted me when no one else did, when I didn’t even have faith in myself. I was planning on taking him out earlier. I thought I’d have time. But then everything went to hell.”
“Why?”
“I wasn’t expecting him—” He broke off and threw the towel aside. “Shit.” He jumped to his feet. “I never meant it to be that close, Catherine. But I had to target his hand. I tried, but I couldn’t do anything—” He was striding to the door. “But I wouldn’t have let him hurt you. I couldn’t stand that either.” He looked at her over his shoulder, and she was shocked at the torment she saw on his face. “That damn Quinn was right about almost everything else, but he was wrong about that. Believe me, Catherine.”
Before she could answer, he was gone.
She
“No,” Eve said as she climbed into the passenger seat. “It’s more like faith.”
* * *
“HOW ARE YOUR FEET?” Gallo stood in the doorway of the kitchen, his gaze on Catherine, who was sitting in a chair by the stove, her bare feet soaking in a pan of warm water. “I’m glad you’re taking care of them. Salt water?”
“Yes.” She met his gaze across the room. “I always take care of myself.”
His lips twisted. “Quinn wouldn’t agree with you.”
“Joe thinks I’m ‘emotional.’” She looked at his feet, encased in boots. “You tore your feet up, too, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You deserve it. You were stupid. I had no choice. But you could have just kept quiet and let yourself be driven back to the house.” She sloshed her feet in the water. “Did you bandage your feet before you put on those boots?”
“Yes, I take care of myself, too.” He came toward her. “Where are Quinn and Eve?”
“They’re calling Jane MacGuire. Eve promised to keep in touch with her.”
“And Eve always keeps her promises.” He took the towel draped over the chair next to Catherine’s. “Did you call Venable again?”
“No, but he called me and said he’s on his way here. He asked a favor of New Orleans Police Department, and the forensic team should be here anytime to check out that truck.”
“He’s moving fast.” He fell to his knees, took her left foot out of the water, and enveloped it in the towel. “It’s not that urgent, is it? Not to the CIA.”
“No. And Venable has no real reason to come down here. He knows I can take care of it. Which means that he has another reason to move in.”
“You’re obviously valuable to him.” He was gently patting her foot dry. “He wants to make sure nothing happens to you.”
His hands were warm through the terry of the towel, and his position at her feet and the action itself were unbearably intimate. She felt a rush of heat go through her.
Not now. The searing sensuality was unexpected, and she felt the tensing that was now familiar. Pull away from him.
She didn’t move. She watched him slowly move the terry over her foot. Each stroke was causing her to tense, the blood to rush beneath the skin at his touch. “Venable isn’t that protective. He wants something.”
“What?” He placed her foot on the floor and lifted her other foot from the water. He began to dry the top, then cradled it in the towel. “You have beautiful feet.”
“No feet are beautiful. Some of them are just not ugly.”
“You’re wrong.” His hands tightened around her foot, his eyes focused on the towel. “I never dreamed I had a foot fetish. I keep thinking where I’d like to put—” He drew a deep breath. “That’s not where I meant this to go.” He began to dry her foot again. “I’m constantly becoming distracted when I’m around you.”
“Where did you mean it to go?” she asked unevenly. “I’m curious to know, Gallo.”
“I wanted to tell—” He lifted his gaze to meet her eyes. “I never wanted him to kill you, Catherine. No matter what Quinn says, I’d never do that. You trusted me when no one else did, when I didn’t even have faith in myself. I was planning on taking him out earlier. I thought I’d have time. But then everything went to hell.”
“Why?”
“I wasn’t expecting him—” He broke off and threw the towel aside. “Shit.” He jumped to his feet. “I never meant it to be that close, Catherine. But I had to target his hand. I tried, but I couldn’t do anything—” He was striding to the door. “But I wouldn’t have let him hurt you. I couldn’t stand that either.” He looked at her over his shoulder, and she was shocked at the torment she saw on his face. “That damn Quinn was right about almost everything else, but he was wrong about that. Believe me, Catherine.”
Before she could answer, he was gone.
She
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