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but she waved me off. “No no, please. Stay put.” When Alexa pulled over her desk chair, Foster thanked her and sat. “How are you feeling, Valentine?”
    Alexa curled herself into my side and reached for my hand. Foster’s gaze flickered between us, and an unfamiliar wave of possessiveness crashed over me. I momentarily tightened my grip on Alexa’s fingers. Mine. What was it about the detective that pushed my buttons?
    “I’m improving, but slowly,” I said, working to keep my voice even. “Apparently my memory is improving, too.”
    “So I hear.” Foster withdrew a pen and a small notebook from one pocket. “Did you have a flashback?”
    “Sort of. As soon as I set foot in the apartment, I could remember what I’d done on Tuesday, up until a certain point.” I told her everything then, except for the part about picking up the ring at Tiffany’s. “Errands uptown,” I said instead. She was particularly interested by the end of my narrative.
    “The last thing you remember is leaving the apartment,” she double-checked. I nodded. “Where would you have gone to get the champagne?”
    “Not sure. There are several stores around here that sell alcohol.” My palms had begun to sweat, and I knew Alexa could feel it. She stroked my knuckles with her thumb.
    Foster frowned. “So you wouldn’t have gone to the intersection where you were found? Canal Street, near the Manhattan Bridge?”
    “I was in a hurry,” I said, reliving the moment when I had realized that I’d forgotten to buy a suitable dinner drink. “I wouldn’t have gone all the way down there.”
    “You’re certain?”
    “Yes.” I shifted nervously. The ache in my leg and shoulder was getting sharper. Time for more pain meds. “What does that mean?”
    “I’m not sure,” she said. “Possibly that your assailant moved you—either before or after the attack.”
    “Why would he do that?” Alexa asked. Her voice trembled a little.
    “I don’t know.” She put away her notebook and got to her feet. “I appreciate the phone call,” she said, looking me squarely in the eye. “I know this must be difficult, but every piece that you remember—no matter how minor—could be important.”
    “Thanks for coming so quickly, Detective,” Alexa said, also rising.
    Foster smiled. She looked several years younger when she smiled—less an experienced warrior and more an eager cadet. And she had nice teeth. “Please, call me Devon. Both of you.”
    Something inside me snarled. I wanted to reach for Alexa, but she was too far away. What was wrong with me? I wasn’t a jealous person by nature. Foster hadn’t even done anything provocative, and I was still reacting like a Neanderthal. And God, I was thirsty. Maybe that was it—being constantly parched had frayed my nerves. That, and being mugged. And now apparently kidnapped.
    “Good night,” I managed to say as Alexa opened the door to show her out.
    She locked and chained the door as soon as Foster had stepped over the threshold. “How are you doing?” she asked, returning to her spot on the couch. I ignored the question, still grappling with the unfamiliar rage churning deep within my chest.
    “She has the hots for you. I can see it in her face.”
    Alexa snorted. “Bull.”
    “Not so. She gets this hungry expression whenever she looks at you. I recognize it from my reflection.”
    Alexa shifted, half kneeling over me. She cupped my face in her hands and kissed me tenderly, soothing away my tension. “You are the only one I want. Now, let’s go to bed.”
    “How about a shower first?” I countered. I hadn’t had a real shower in over a week. I felt disgusting.
    “Okay.”
    She kissed me again before heading for the bathroom. I limped back into the kitchen, refilled my glass, and gulped down more water along with two pain pills before slowly making my way to the bedroom.
    Alexa was waiting by the bed, naked. I froze, drinking her in. Deep red curls swirled around the contours