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about how fucked up the world was today with lunatics terrorizing in so many parts of the globe.
    I was pretty sure he bought my story because he let it drop, but I couldn’t be certain.  Benny was very perceptive, and he knows me well. He forced an agreement out of me to have dinner with him the following week.  Ben was, quite simply, digging for information and figured if he couldn’t get anything out of me over the phone, he’d have more success in person.  I loved him for it, though.  Benny Clarkson was a rare gem of a person.  We’d met at university photography class, gotten to know each other when we’d partnered together.  As soon as I’d figured he wasn’t trying to put the moves on me, my walls went down and I made a dear, dear friend.  I don’t know if he was more in tune with women because he was a gay man, or if it was just a connection we’d formed, but he sure understood me.  Ben was very close to Brynne, too.  He was like our older, protective brother who loved us unconditionally, always keeping an eye out.
    As soon as we hung up , I shot a text to Brynne to let her know I was home.  She hit me right back saying they were on the road to Somerset.  Ethan was taking them to the countryside for a weekend away at his sister’s historic mansion, which she runs as an exclusive bed and breakfast.  The bomb threat had convinced him to leave tonight instead of tomorrow.
    Made sense.  Ethan Blackstone was as serious about protecting Brynne as he was in lo ve with her.  Pity the fool who ever tried to get close enough to hurt her.
    My dad was nex t to check in, which was as predictable as Ben’s call.  The men in my life loved me, making their behavior easy to forecast.  Can’t say I minded that though.
    “You’re home already then?”
    “Oh y eah, they kicked us out and I saw no point in sticking around.  I caught a cab and decided to call it an early night,” I said smoothly.
    My father is MetPol.  Or in English, London Metropolitan Police.  Chief Superintendent, in fact, and in charge of the Southwark division at New Scotland Yard.  I am painfully aware he’s heard every lie and bullshit story ever put out for public consumption.  He knows very well what I study in school.  He knows the focus of my master’s program is the paintings of Tristan Mallerton. If art museums were being targeted for bombs, and I was working anywhere near then he would be all over it like white on rice.  I know how his thought processes work.  Having a cop for a father, I’d learned a few things through the years. Protecting me from harm was his number one priority.
    “ I sent Thorne over there to find you, and when he checked in to let me know you weren’t there, I worried, darling.  You should’ve made contact,” he scolded me gently.
    “I did, sort of.  I waved to one of the security at Blackstone who knows me and let him see I was out of the building.”
    Silence .
    “ And, you don’t have to send Desmond chasing after me every time, Dad.”
    That last jab got me a heavy sigh, and I knew why.  Desmond Thorne was my father’s unfailing answer to his paternal worries about me.  A superintendent on the rise at Scotland Yard, and just perfect for me, according to my dad.  Yep, Dad made no secret about how much he approved of Detective Superintendent Thorne as boyfriend-slash-husband-slash significant other, for me, either.  Whatever name you put to it, Desmond was the man for the job in the eyes of my father.
    It was har d too, because I did like Des.  A bit on the serious side but he was easy on the eyes, and he wasn’t an ass.  I’d give him props for making an effort with me.  He’d made his interest known, and I wasn’t an idiot.  I’m sure if I’d given him even the slightest bit of encouragement, I could have him any way I wanted, as often as I liked.  Visions of sweaty sex appeared in my head and I closed my eyes in an attempt to push them back.
    Now it was my turn to