I'm Watching You by Karen Rose

so I can sleep tonight.“
    „No thanks. I have to get home and catch a few hours’ shut-eye. I have to meet Mia and Jack at dawn at the first site.“
    Kristen’s hands stilled on the teapot. „Which one will you do first?“
    He shrugged his wide shoulders. „Ramey. We’ll do them in the order he did.“
    Kristen made herself pour the tea, grimacing when her hands shook, sending tea over the cup’s edge and onto the old countertop. „That makes sense.“ She looked up at him to find him watching her with the same intense expression he’d worn in Spinnelli’s office. It was concern, she realized and her back went straight. She wasn’t weak. She might be many things, but weak was not one of them. „I’d like to be there as well.“
    He considered it. „That makes sense,“ he echoed her words. „Wear sensible shoes.“
    She looked down into her tea, then back up at him. „I don’t have a car.“
    „I’ll be by to pick you up at six a.m.“
    The volley was over and it was her serve. „Thanks. I’ll get a rental car tomorrow, but – “
    „It’s all right, Kristen. I don’t mind.“
    He really didn’t, it was clear to see. And that bothered her. „Then…“
    He pushed himself away from the wall against which he’d leaned. „I’ll be going.“ He stopped at the kitchen door. „You’ve done a wonderful job on your house.“
    Her hands cradled the steaming cup, absorbing the warmth. She was so cold. „Thank you. And thank you for driving me home. And for the gyro.“
    He studied her face, his expression uncertain. „You’re sure you want to stay here?“
    She smiled with a hell of a lot more confidence than she felt. „Positive. You should get some sleep. Six a.m. is only a few hours away.“
    Abe took a last uncertain look before backing out the door and into the carport. Through the gauzy curtains on her kitchen door he watched her lock the door and set the alarm. For a moment he debated going back inside and dragging her to the relative safety of a hotel, but knew it was none of his business. Kristen Mayhew was a grown woman and entirely capable of making her own decisions.
    He started his car and had pulled into the street before he realized she hadn’t called him Detective. Nor had she called him Abe. They’d talked for almost an hour and she hadn’t called him anything at all. He shouldn’t let it bother him. He shouldn’t let her bother him. She was pretty, that was true, but he’d meet many pretty women now that he was no longer working undercover. For five years he’d held no attachments, stealing time to see his own family, his brothers, sisters, his parents, Debra, all the while worrying that he’d been followed, that just by visiting he’d place them in jeopardy.
    Now he was out from under the burden of constant secrecy and isolation, working in an environment where people developed social and professional relationships. It was natural to be tempted on his first day out. And it would be unnatural not to find Kristen Mayhew tempting. She was as beautiful now as she’d been the first time he’d seen her.
    And unlike the first time he’d seen her, he was now free to feel the lust that clutched at his gut like a slippery fist without the shadow of guilt. Debra was gone now. Truly gone. After five years of existing in hellish limbo, Debra was finally at peace. It was time to get on with his life. Step one would be getting Kristen Mayhew to call him by his first name. Then he’d take it from there.
    From her living room window, Kristen watched as Reagan’s taillights disappeared around the corner, troubled . I should be , she thought and uneasily glanced up the street, wondering if the man who’d killed five people was watching her at that moment. But the street was empty, all her neighbors’ windows dark. The troubled feeling persisted and Kristen wasn’t sure how much she could attribute to a man who called himself her humble servant versus a man who was unwilling to