Pretties in Pink

9. Ford

9

FORD

After Hallie stormed out, it took Ford two seconds to realise he’d been an asshole. Eight years as a cop had made him quick to see the worst in people, and that comment about her skirt had been completely uncalled for. Which meant he needed to apologise, and quickly, because if he were in her impressively high shoes, what’s the first thing he’d have done? That’s right—block his number.

She made it into the elevator, but Ford ran five mornings a week, so the stairs would be almost as fast.

He was six steps away from her when she turned.

Then his chest seized.

Because what he saw in her eyes wasn’t frustration or annoyance or even disgust, it was sheer f*****g terror, and he’d been the man to put it there. She went for her purse, and if anyone on the street had done that, he’d have been reaching for the gun strapped to his ankle, but this was Hallie. His pretty little fruitcake. The way he’d snapped at her, he deserved everything he got.

And what he got was…a tampon?

“You sure do know how to strike fear into a man’s heart, plum.”

He meant that sincerely, because what if she never spoke to him again?

“I told you to s-s-stay away.”

Shit, her voice was shaking as badly as her hands.

“I’m staying right here. Don’t suppose you’d consider putting that, uh, weapon down?”

“Go to hell.”

“I’ll show myself to the ninth circle after I’ve apologised. Hallie, I’m sorry I jumped to the wrong conclusions. I’m sorry I bit your head off and wouldn’t let you speak. And I’m sorry I disparaged your choice of clothing, especially when I think you look abso-f*****g-lutely beautiful tonight.”

She didn’t move, didn’t say anything, just stood there staring as tears left sooty tracks on her cheeks.

“Hallie, is there someone I can call for you? A friend?”

“No.” It came out as a croak, and she tried again. “No.”

“A cab?”

She shook her head. “I-I-I can drive.”

“Will you wait here while I get my car? I need to know you get home safely.”

“But then you’ll know where I l-l-live.”

“I’m a cop. I could find that information out in two minutes anyway.”

“You’re n-n-not meant to do that.”

“We both know I break the rules from time to time. Hallie, I’m worried about you.” She was still frozen to the spot, her gaze fixed on his chest rather than his face. Weirdly submissive, and nothing like the woman he’d been getting to know. “Plum, who hurt you?”

For a long minute, he thought she wasn’t going to answer, but then her lips moved, the whisper barely audible.

“Everyone.”

She sank to the floor, and he felt like the biggest d**k in the world for putting three condoms in his wallet tonight. This evening hadn’t turned out the way he’d expected at all.

Fortunately, he’d grabbed his sport coat before he left the restaurant, and now he shrugged out of it and tucked it around her shoulders. She let him help her to her feet. What next? She couldn’t drive like this. Hell, she wouldn’t even be able to see the road properly.

“Come sit in your car, okay? This way.”

She’d dropped the key, so Ford scooped it up, then guided her to the Honda compact whose lights had flashed as he exited the stairwell. Her dress rode up as she slumped into the passenger seat, but she didn’t seem to notice, and he wasn’t about to risk tugging it down for her.

“Don’t take me back there,” she murmured, eyes unfocused. Her mind was somewhere else entirely. But where?

“The only place you’re going is home, Hallie. You can’t stay here in the parking garage all night. Should I call someone from Blackwood?”

“No!”

Well, that was emphatic. No friends, no colleagues. “In that case, I’m just gonna sit here with you until you feel better, okay?”

Ford settled onto the concrete and leaned against the car, facing into the cavernous garage. Watching for any visitors and also studiously avoiding getting an eyeful of Hallie’s panties. How long would she stay upset like this? Not that it truly mattered; he’d sit here until morning if he needed to.

Ten minutes of quiet sobbing later, the elevator pinged, and the male who exited headed straight toward them, no hesitation. Security? Ford scrambled to his feet. The newcomer was wearing black pants and a dress shirt but no tie, and despite the steel-grey hair, he wasn’t old. Ford put him at about thirty-five. He carried something in his hand. A phone?

“Move along, nothing to see here.”

“The hell I will,” he snapped back.

“I’m a cop with the Richmond PD, and everything’s under control.”

“I don’t care if you’re Chief Broussard himself. Why is Hallie upset?”

This guy knew her?

At the sound of her name, Hallie shifted in her seat. “Oliver?”

“What happened?” The man elbowed Ford out of the way, and he didn’t argue. The last thing he needed tonight was another fight. Businesslike, the man reached out and pulled down the hem of Hallie’s dress, then crouched in front of her. “Do you want me to call Dan? Black? Emmy?”

“I’m o-o-okay. There was a m-m-misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding? Do you want this man here?”

Translation: should he try to remove Ford from the building?

She shrugged. Well, it was better than a straight-up “no,” although she still wouldn’t look at him. How had things gone so wrong, so fast? Half an hour ago, he’d been enjoying the battle of wits with the first woman to interest him since he moved to Richmond. A rival, yes, but she intrigued him like no other.

And then everything that was building between them had imploded.

Oliver turned to Ford. “Leave us for a moment.”

An order, not a question, and his tone told Ford that he was used to being obeyed. But again, Ford wasn’t going to quibble. And it was a smart move on Oliver’s part—if Hallie was feeling intimidated, the space would allow him to find that out.

But Hallie’s hand shot out and grabbed his.

“He can stay.”

“You want to talk about what happened?”

She shook her head. “My past just crept up on me, that’s all. I want to go home.”

The next challenge.

“I offered to call her a cab,” Ford told Oliver.

“Hallie doesn’t take cabs.” Oliver offered her a handkerchief, watched with concern as she wiped her face. “Sweetheart, I’d drive you myself, but Stef’s having a rare night out, and I’m on Dad duty.”

He glanced at the phone in his hand, and Ford realised it wasn’t a phone at all; it was a hi-tech baby monitor. A picture filled the screen, a sleeping infant bundled up in one of those pyjama things with the feet. Hallie turned the unit so she could see and smiled for the first time since their aborted dinner.

“Aw, she’s so cute.”

“And also louder than I ever thought possible.”

“How’s Stefanie?”

“Happy, but exhausted. Even though we have Bridget to help, she’s still trying to do everything herself.”

“You should probably go back upstairs.”

“Not until I know you’re okay.” Oliver looked up at Ford. “Can you take her home?”

“She didn’t like that idea either.”

“Sweetheart, either this cop sees you home, or I’ll call a car from Blackwood. You can’t stay here all night, and I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to drive yourself.”

Hallie was still holding on to Ford’s hand, and now her grip tightened, her fingernails digging into his palm. What was it to be?

“Ford can take me home.” She finally met his eyes. “Will you?”

“Already said I would.”

Oliver nodded once. “Good. I’m going to need your full name. Do you have a card?”

“Ford Prestia. Detective Ford Prestia.”

Ford handed over a business card and got presented with one in return. The guy carried a supply in his pants pocket. Oliver Rhodes, Attorney at Law. Ford recognised the name if not the man. He’d made the national news for switching sides to prosecute not only a notorious serial killer but a problematic ex-DA.

“Don’t tell Dan. Please, don’t tell Dan,” Hallie begged.

“As long as you get home safely, there’s nothing to tell. Call me when you arrive.” The baby cried, and Oliver cursed under his breath. “I need to go.”

“Thank you,” Hallie called as he jogged back across the garage, leaving the two of them alone again.

“I’m sorry,” they both said at the same time.

“You have nothing to apologise for.” Ford tried to flex his fingers. “But I’d appreciate if you could loosen your grip a little.”

She let go as if she’d been stung. After yesterday’s coffee at the Grindhouse, Ford had pegged her as a bon vivant, but now he realised it had all been an act. A fragile woman masquerading as a good-time girl. And what had she meant when she said her past had crept up on her?

That was a question for another day. Tonight, his priority was to get her home.

“How do you want to do this? I can drive your car, or you can ride in mine.”

“If you drive my car, how will you get home?”

“Let me worry about that.” He could walk back or take a cab if she lived farther away. And at least she’d have her car with her for the morning. “You need to swing your legs inside and put on your seat belt.”

“I… Okay.”

“Where do you live?”

“Over in the Fan.” She managed a tiny smile. “South Plum Street.”

Plum Street. Ford had to smile at that too. And it was a nice neighbourhood from what he’d seen so far.

“I should have guessed.”

Once she was ready, he closed the door and got behind the wheel. Moved the seat back three inches and started the engine.

“You live on your own?”

“No, I have a roommate. Do you live far away? I don’t recall seeing a Ristretto Street.”

“Around thirty minutes south of the city.”

“In Meadowbrook? Bellwood?”

“No, in the River Bend Yacht Basin.”

“Huh?”

“I live on a boat.”

“That’s…that’s…interesting? Did the city run out of apartments?”

“Not a fan of boats, then?”

“I don’t know; I’ve never been on one.”

“Never? Not even one of those little pedal boats you find on lakes?”

“Nope. Why did you decide to live on one?”

Did Ford want to tell her the details? At least she’d settled into having a proper conversation again, and if they spent more time together, then she’d find out eventually.

And yeah, he needed to spend more time with Hallie Chastain.