Free Courting the Cop by Coleen Kwan

doorbell, her nerves jangled even louder.
    The knitters were arriving, and she had no choice but to make the coffees herself. Fortunately, there was no sign of Sophia, and she was spared the woman’s inquisitiveness over Brody’s nonappearance. Phyllis gave a loud sniff as she peered around the store as if Brody might be lurking behind the rack of pattern books, but instead asked Abigail if she could buy a new crochet hook. Abigail served her before returning to the espresso machine. Somehow she didn’t feel like chatting to her regulars today.
    It was almost ten thirty when Mrs. O’Brien hurried into the store, her hat askew and strands of gray hair escaping from her barrette. She plunked herself into a seat away from the others and pressed a hand against her chest as if she had difficulty breathing.
    Abigail immediately went to her. “Mrs. O’Brien, are you feeling ill?”
    The woman waved her hand limply. “Oh, no, it’s nothing.”
    It didn’t look like nothing. As Abigail moved closer, the doorbell jingled, and Brody ambled into the store.
    “Sorry I’m late,” he muttered to Abigail, barely glancing at her. If she wasn’t mistaken, all his focus was on Mrs. O’Brien. He shifted his stance toward the seated woman. “Hey, Mrs. O’Brien. I saw you hurrying in here.” His voice sounded casual, but she could sense an undercurrent of tension in him. “Everything okay with you?”
    Mrs. O’Brien nodded so vigorously her hat slid off. “Yes, yes, I’m fine. Really, I am. Thank you. I, uh…felt a bit cold so I rushed inside.” Nervous fingers plucked at the hat as she directed a pleading look to Abigail. “Abigail, I, er, I wouldn’t mind a hot chocolate to warm me up.”
    “Of course, we’ll make one for you right away.” Abigail drew Brody away with her.
    Where have you been? she wanted to hiss at him but swallowed the words. She didn’t have any rights over him.
    “I followed her when she left her house earlier,” Brody murmured in her ear when they were behind the espresso machine.
    Abigail frowned in puzzlement. “She lives around the corner. It wouldn’t take more than three minutes to walk here.”
    “But she didn’t come straight here. She went to St. Agnes, and mass wasn’t on at the time.”
    “She might have gone there to pray.”
    “Or to meet someone. I couldn’t risk going inside and being seen, so I stayed outside.”
    “And?” She didn’t want to admit it, but she was beginning to share his fascination with Mrs. O’Brien. “What happened?”
    “She came out looking like she does now. Kinda upset. After she left, I hung around, but no one came out. I went into the church but it was empty.”
    Abigail eased out a breath. “So it was nothing. She went there to pray, on her own.”
    “In my opinion it was something.” Brody’s eyes narrowed. “What has she got to pray for except her son?”
    “She could be upset that he’s turned out such a nasty criminal.”
    He shook his head. “Nope, she’s had years to get used to that truth. She’s upset because Michael is back, that’s the likeliest explanation.”
    “So what happens next? Are you going to take her in for questioning?” She didn’t like the idea of the quiet, anxious woman being interrogated by a hard-assed detective like Brody, even if she was hiding something.
    “No. I don’t want her, I want her son.”
    The lean, hungry look on Brody’s face chilled Abigail. In all the banter that had passed between them, she’d forgotten who and what he was, but now it stared her in the face. Brody was a hunter, using his skills to catch his prey, and she was just a means to an end. He might enjoy the flirtation, might even enjoy kissing her, but she was merely a tool to be used, like one of his informants.
    She turned away to grab a mug, disturbed by how let down she felt. As if he sensed her dismay, Brody touched her lightly on the shoulder.
    “Abigail?” He sounded puzzled.
    She shrugged off his hand.