Chasing Evil (Circle of Evil) by Kylie Brant Read Free Book Online Page B

home to get some ice for my head and a cold beer. I know you’ve got to drive back, but you’re welcome to join me for one before you go.”
    Tempted, Cam considered for a moment. It was late and he hadn’t eaten since lunch. Still, nothing about his apartment was the least bit tempting. Since Sophie had put a stop to things—just as they’d gotten interesting—his apartment seemed emptier than usual. Which was troubling for a man who’d always valued his privacy. His only pressing tasks of the evening included giving this suit a decent burial and tending the dozen or more cuts he’d sustained from his first close encounter with barbed wire. Neither was particularly appealing.
    “Throw in a side trip to grab a sandwich and you’re on.” He rose, having made up his mind. The suit and the cuts would wait for a little bit.
    And the tetanus shot could wait even longer.

Chapter Three
     
    “I’m…stunned.” Sophia looked from the full plate before her to Cam and then back again before giving her head a little shake.
    “That I know how to cook? Don’t be. I like to eat. Makes sense to learn to prepare my favorite foods. Especially when they aren’t easy to come by around here.”
    He picked up half of the shrimp po’boy sandwich he’d made from scratch and lifted it to his lips, enjoying her visible caution as she did the same. He wouldn’t be offended if she didn’t enjoy the dinner. Not everyone liked Creole dishes as much as he did. But her look of surprise, followed quickly by pleasure after that first bite filled him with satisfaction.
    “Oh, it’s wonderful!” She took another bite. Chewed reflectively. “What’s that sauce?”
    “Homemade remoulade.” He set down the sandwich to scoop up some dirty rice and washed it down with a sip of the wine she’d brought. He wasn’t much of a wine drinker, but the dry white went pretty well with the meal. “I found a little market in the East Village that flies in fresh seafood daily. You have to get there early, but they’ll take orders, too. Didn’t get as lucky with the produce. I’ve never stepped foot in Louisiana, but I was introduced to Creole food at this little out-of-the way restaurant in Pomona. The owner was from New Orleans and I went back often enough to get to know him.” He gave her a wink. “Taught me some of his secrets.”
    He mentally damned his expansiveness when her attention switched from the meal to his words. “Pomona. When you were in southern California on that multi-agency task force? You spent over a year out there, didn’t you?”
    “Closer to two.” He avoided her eyes, concentrated on the food. It wasn’t fair to equate her questions with the ones from the agency-ordered shrink. Sophie’s interest would be real. Casual. And his future with the agency didn’t weigh on the answers he gave her.
    But fair or not, something inside him shut down at her quizzical gaze. Food he could discuss. It was the only part of the experience out there that was untainted by memory.
    “I don’t mind cooking when I have the time,” she said easily, reaching for her wine glass. “Although it seems sort of a waste for one person.”
    “I agree. It’s quicker and easier to do take out, especially during the week.” He recognized the out she’d given him. Knew his sudden reticence was the reason for it. And it occurred to him that if they had a future—big if—he was going to have to learn to talk about his time undercover. Sophie Channing wasn’t the type of woman to tolerate half-truths and evasion.
    He just wasn’t certain he was capable of giving her more.
     
    “Kendra Blanchette Williams.” Sophia sat in the first row of chairs in the DCI conference room four days after joining the investigation, her gaze, like the other occupants in the room on the PowerPoint Cam was running. “Divorced, two children. She’s the first victim we were able to put a name to, thanks to the tattoo on her ankle. Six months ago her