Chloe frowned at the goo in the glass Oliver placed into her hand.
"What's that?"
"A smoothie."
"It's green."
He chuckled at her grimace and polished his own version of the decoction. "I can see that. Good thing you love the color, huh?"
"What's in it?"
"I used kiwis, bananas and soy milk, with a touch of Acacia honey." Chloe pulled a face and sniffed the sludge, which made Oliver laughed harder. "Come on, Sidekick, bottom up. It's good for you."
The batter in the bowl next his elbow promised pancakes or waffles. Those were good for her. Compared to the golden wonder, the green mixture was highly unappealing.
Knowing Oliver wouldn't relent until she swallowed at least half her glass, Chloe took a tentative sip. Then another. "It's good…"
The young man spared her any form of "I told you so", instead moving to the waffle maker to set it on preheat. Then he gave the batter a swift whisk. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm okay." Chloe rested her forehead against his chest when he shot her a pointed look. "I am! I slept like a log and I am still a bit groggy. My brain just refuses to engage."
Oliver bracketed her waist in his hands and hoisted her up on the counter. He pecked her temple before dragging her close to the edge for a hug. "You should listen to your brain and go back to bed then."
She opened her mouth to ask if he was suggesting they had breakfast in bed when his cell phone buzzed. Oliver peered at it sideways, then released her waist when he read the caller's ID. "Sorry. I have to take that, it's the security desk. Oliver Queen."
Chloe tried to hop off the counter, but he shook his head. She pointed at the waffle maker which was blinking, ready. "Yes, send him up. Thank you."
Chloe stopped squirming. "Who is coming up?"
"Detective Jones is here."
The name called the image of a tall Afro-American man with the presence of an old school movie star. "Why?"
"We'll know in a couple of minutes." Oliver shut down the waffle maker. "Those will have to wait, I guess."
"I'll make us some toasts."
"The almond butter is in the cupboard with the tea." Chloe glanced his way. Oliver had that mocking half-smile she alternated between loving and hating depending on the moment. Right now, she took it as a sign the tempest of the previous night had abated. She blew him a kiss, and put a couple of slices of bread in the toaster.
She'd been right about the man having the presence of an old school Hollywood actor, Chloe mused, and it had nothing to do with the majestic bouquet of white roses in his arms. He offered them with a bow of the head and a warm smile that created small crow's feet wrinkles at the corner of his eyes. The petals were rimmed with a lavender so delicate it looked almost blue.
She took a whiff of the flowers, peering at him from under her lashes. "They're beautiful, thank you."
"I cannot take the credit for those, the front desk asked me if I could bring them up. Such a lovely smile makes me glad I agreed. I'm Morris Jones. It's very nice to meet you, Miss Gale…"
Chloe felt herself blush at the compliment. When the snort she expected from Oliver didn't come, Chloe glimpsed his way, to find his mouth pinched in a pensive expression. Before she could say anything, he asked, "is there a card?"
Jones caught the undertone as well as she did. If the look on his face was any indication, he didn't associate it with a jealous lover. Neither did she.
"There's no card, Oliver."
The smartwatch at her wrist biped a warning. Oliver immediately relaxed his stance. His hand settled in the small of her back. His thumb settled just under her hipbone. "You've been on your feet too long. Why don't we all seat down, so the Detective can tell us why he's here?"
The other man bowed his head again, never losing his patient smile. Chloe wondered what hints he was collecting, and how long it would take for him to piece the puzzle of her pregnancy together.
"I won't be too long Mr. Queen, and I apologize for intruding on your holidays." He slanted a glance toward Chloe, then decided to continue. "Werner Zlythe is dead."
Her eyes widened. "Dead?"
Chloe turned toward Oliver. Her watch biped twice and louder than the first time. He'd said he shot him, but he would have told her if he'd hit some critical artery… His finger moved to rub soothing circles above the belt of her jeans.
His voice betrayed nothing of the tension she could read in the clench of his jaw. "How?"
"He was found early this morning with three bullets to the heart, like Piotr Rublev."
"Is that the name of…" Chloe asked, as if she didn't already know the answer to her unfinished question. "Of the man you found at Queen Industries?"
"Yes. Miss Gale, do you recall anything about your attack? Did Zlythe say anything to you?"
Chloe closed her eyes. The flowers still in her arms grew heavy. Oliver reached out and took them from her lap to put them on the coffee table. Her heart thumbed painfully in her chest. The watch was letting out a continuous shrill. Oliver immediately pulled her against him, uncaring about Jones' concerned eyes.
"Shh…"
Chloe bathed in his warmth for a few seconds, then pushed on his chest gently.
"I'm all right, Oliver." Chloe pressed her palms a little harder to convince him to let go. The noise dialed down to its previous, less aggressive warning.
"I'm sorry, Detective…"
"You have nothing to apologize for, Miss Gale. The few weeks before they installed my pacemaker, I had one of those too." He pointed at her wrist. "The model was not as nice, though."
"It's a prototype from Wayne Enterprises. We are developing the software for them," Oliver butted in. He threaded his fingers through hers, anchoring her.
Chloe offered a small smile, then turned toward Jones. "My memories from that night are a little fuzzy. I know he was talking, but I was panicking and it didn't quite register."
Oliver opened and closed his mouth. Maybe he did remember something, or rather, the Green Arrow did. Jones nodded, deep in thoughts. "Of course. The Bratva has apparently set their eyes on you and Mr. Queen. That's concerning. I will assign—"
"No." Oliver cut him off. "No offense, but the police can find a better use of their resources than watching over us. If we need protection, I will hire private security."
Having blue shirts on their back was the last thing they needed. Chloe caught his eyes and read her next move there. She squeezed his hand before she returned her attention to the watchful detective. "That man, Zlythe, he was a drug dealer, wasn't he?"
"He served time for narcotrafficking, yes."
"As you may know, Detective, I'm a reporter. I do mostly high-profiles portraits of people or organizations, but I investigated the apparition of a new substance for the Register."
"You are talking about the drug called Rage."
He sounded like a parent unsure if they should be amazed by or disapprove of their children's whereabouts. His tone remembered her so much about Mrs. Kent she almost laughed.
"Yes."
She saw Oliver conceal a proud smile out of the corner of her eye. "Do you think it could all be connected?"
"Nabokov and I had a discussion earlier this week about the wellbeing of the city," added Oliver.
Jones narrowed his eyes on them. "Yes, you did mention that the other day. I can't say threatening the head of the Bratva is one of your smartest moves, Oliver."
Chloe startled at the sudden familiarity. Oliver only smiled. The detective rubbed his hand over his knee. She'd noticed he had done that several times already. Chloe wondered if the massage was a tell, or if he massaged the phantom pain of an old injury. "You think they're cleaning house."
Chloe leaned back in the sofa, watching Oliver. She loved how his face betrayed very little, while his brain sorted through facts and connected dots.
"It's possible." Oliver's dark eyes darted toward the white roses on the table. "What do white roses say in the language of flowers?"
Chloe pipped up. "White flowers are the symbol of purity and innocence. White roses are typically offered in apology."
And to mothers. She preferred not to think the Bratva was threatening her child. You didn't sacrifice your own pawns to send a warning.
"You must have made quite in impression if a mob boss sends you flowers." Jones pushed to his feet. "I am aware of reporters' love for the First Amendment, but considering the circumstances, Miss Gale, I would appreciate if you sent me a copy of your research."
Chloe exchanged an accomplice glance with Oliver. They had talked about offering the drug ring to the police on a platter. This was their chance to do so.
The petit blonde crossed her arms over her chest. "I want exclusivity. I've put a lot of effort into it and it is quite a scoop."
The older man sighed. "You know I have to refer to my captain and the DA for that."
Chloe countered with a knowing grin. "Well, I do need time to organize the information so…"
"I'll see what I can do, Miss Gale." The detective pushed to his feet at the same time her wristwatch pinged again. "I'll be in touch. Again, my apology for interrupting your morning."
"There's no harm done, detective. If we don't talk until then, merry Christmas."
"Happy Holidays, Miss Gale. Mr. Queen…"
"I'll walk you out."
Chloe stood too, and went to the kitchen to put her flowers into a vase, while the men discussed near the elevator. She arranged the roses to her liking. If they were really an apology from Evgeni Nabokov, it meant that the case was closed. The Green Arrow could return to more mundane crimes, rather than poked at the proverbial Russian Bear. She buried her nose in the gorgeous bouquet to scent the delicate perfume of the flowers.
"You do make a beautiful picture."
She straightened up in time to see Oliver lower his phone, smiling. "You mentioned Councilman Byers to him, didn't you?"
"I might have, yes. Jones has a good poker face, but I bet he wasn't exactly surprised that the name popped up during your 'investigation'."
She leaned into him when he gathered her in his arms. Oliver kissed the top of her head. "Great thinking, pulling the Pulitzer card. They will ask less questions this way."
Chloe crooked an eyebrow. "I was serious, Oliver. I will write an article about this."
He scrutinized her face for so long she knew he was weighting different answers in his head. She appreciated the effort when he refrained from trying to change her mind. "So I'm better starting on those waffles, hum? You'll need fuel."
Chloe stood on tiptoes to kiss his chin. "I could eat."
Since neither one of them seemed ready to let go of the other, she returned to her previous position with her head in the crook of his neck. "Is it really over?"
Oliver's sigh reverberated in her chest. "I don't know."
She breathed him in, the mix of sandalwood and soap a familiar comfort. It gave her the strength she needed. "There's one way to know for sure."
Oliver grasped her waist and pushed her two inches away from him, just far enough so that she could see his glower. "You are not going anywhere near him again."
Chloe shook her head. "A phone call will suffice."
"No. What's the point, you said there was no card anyway. They could come from Hal, or Lex…"
"Oliver…" She interrupted before he started citing more names. They both knew the odds.
"What it's not what we hope, and he's baiting us?"
She wrapped both arms around his midsection and reeled him back to her. "Then we'll know. Oliver, I can't leave my life with yet another target on my back. I have enough of those already."
His grip hardened, bordering painful. "I have half a mind to take you to the Australian outback so I can sequester you there. No internet, no phone, nothing for miles."
Chloe grinned into his shirt. "I thought you loved me…"
"I do. Even if it means I'll soon be the one with one of those," he taped her wrist gently. "Seeing how hell bent you are to send me to an early grave."
