Free In Harm's Way by Lyn Stone Page A

playing the big, bad cop with Robin? He knew she hadn’t killed James Andrews, but he did sense she was hiding something. Why didn’t he feel justified in shaking her up a little?
    She broke eye contact and turned away from him. As if coming to a decision, she grabbed the disk and thrust it at him defiantly. “All right. If you must know, I looked at it.”
    â€œSo you already know what’s on it?” he asked as he took it from her.
    At her guilty nod he asked, “So, what did you find? And be honest. I plan to pick it apart when I get to a computer.”
    â€œWell, good luck,” she snapped impatiently. “There werenames of some of his clients, numbers of their insurance accounts and a few pages of notes in a foreign language.”
    â€œInteresting. What language?”
    She stilled. “I don’t know. You don’t believe they’re insurance accounts like James said, do you?”
    â€œPeople aren’t usually killed for a client list. What were the numbers like? How many in a sequence?”
    Robin shrugged, rubbing her arms with her hands. After thinking for a minute, she shook her head. “I’m not sure. Nine beside each name, I think.”
    Could be Social Security numbers. Or numbered bank accounts. Or simply what they appeared to be, insurance account numbers. But there would be time to worry about that later. He stuck the disk in the pocket of his jacket.
    â€œYou’d better stay with me tonight.”
    She ignored the last suggestion as if he hadn’t made it. “You can take me to a hotel. I’ll be ready in a second.” She began looking around, bending over to check under the coffee table. “Have you seen my shoes?”
    â€œI took your shoes,” he admitted.
    She frowned up at him. “Why?”
    â€œThey look splendid with my beige suit. Why do you think, Robin?”
    Her mouth dropped open, and she snapped it shut as she straightened and tugged down the hem of her skirt. “I’m sure I haven’t a clue.”
    â€œI hope not. Kick would love it if your shoes provide one. There were traces of red dirt found on the carpet at the crime scene. Forensics will be analyzing your soles.”
    â€œAll right.” She curled up her toes, looking down at them as if she’d never seen them before. “So what do I do in the meantime?”
    â€œGo barefoot,” he told her. There wasn’t much choice. Herfeet weren’t exactly tiny, but she would never be able to wear any of his gunboats. Sandra might have left shoes in the closet, but she was a little bitty thing and wore a very small size.
    Robin’s feet were long and narrow. So graceful, he thought to himself, hardly able to tear his eyes away from them. But he did. It was silly to sit there ogling a woman’s feet. He caught her watching him do it, too.
    Her luscious lips firmed and he thought she might be about to cry. He couldn’t much blame her considering the night she’d had. And her day wasn’t promising to be much better. He reached out, took one of her hands and held it, offering what comfort he could without taking her in his arms the way he wanted.
    â€œYou won’t need shoes to go over to my place. What you need now is food, and I’ve got supper on already.”
    â€œYou cook?” she asked.
    Mitch laughed self-consciously. “Yeah. My mama made it very clear when I moved out all those years ago that she wouldn’t tolerate my freeloading every meal. She gave me lessons and a set of cookware.”
    Robin nodded knowingly. “I certainly can identify with that! My mother didn’t want me around, either, after I stopped being the breadwinner.”
    â€œYou were the breadwinner?” Mitch frowned.
    â€œWell, I was all she had to work with after Dad left. Mother actually drove herself harder than I did. She managed my modeling career. When I quit, that also put her out of a job, so you