Page 4 of Wild Card

I’m finding it hard to maintain my disinterest around Maxim. There’s something about him that throws me off balance. He’s got me trapped, and I’m not sure how I’m going to get away.

Damn it, I’m getting rusty. The one thing I’ve always been good at is getting away.

“Worse situations? Like what?” he asks, breaking the quiet. Does it bother him? I tuck that away. Normally I run my mouth, whether it’s being sweet, annoying, or hostile.

“Why would I tell you that?” I toss back at him.

“You could go back to singing.”

“Nope,” I chirp. “Are you a Taylor fan or something?” Everyone loves her, but I know all her songs, so it was an easy choice.

“You have a sweet voice.” My chest tightens for some inexplicable reason. Maybe I’ve got heartburn. I’ve never had it before, but that has to be what this is.

Once again, the quiet grows. “How about if I answer a question, you answer one,” he offers.

“Hmm.” I tap my finger against my lips, not sure this is a good idea. But as always, my curiosity gets the best of me. “Okay.” I sit up straighter and turn slightly to face him.

“No lying,” he orders, and I roll my eyes.

“Fine,” I huff. “But I go first.”

“Deal.” Another smile plays at his lips but he quickly gets it under control. Why do I want to break that control?

Maybe because I enjoy pushing things to the edge.

“Are you a cop?” I blurt out.

“Pretty much.”

“‘Pretty much’? That’s not an answer.”

He lets out a long sigh. “To most of the world, no. To a select few, yes.”

“Ooooh, like the FBI or CIA. Wait! Is there an agency that no one knows about like SAA or something?” I bet the government has another secret branch they don’t tell us about. If I ran the government, I know I would.

“SAA?”

“Secret Asshole Agents. It would fit for you.” I shrug. “I don’t know. I made it up.”

He lets out a low chuckle that’s deep and way too sexy. I didn’t know a laugh could be sexy, and it makes me giggle. People think I’m stupid or adorable. Either works in my favor for the most part.

“Okay, my turn.” I already know what he’s going to ask. “Tell me about the situations worse than this.”

Crap.

“If I have to pick I suppose it’s one I’m in now.”

“I’m not going to hurt you, firecracker.”

He keeps calling me that, and I kinda don’t hate it. It’s different from “babe” or “honey.”

“I’m not scared of you. Physically at least,” I admit. “It’s my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” he grumbles, and his eyebrows furrow.

“Ex-boyfriend, I guess. I don’t know. I never really called it off, but I ghosted him, so you’d think he’d get the message. Men can be so dense.”

Maxim grips the steering wheel tighter. “How is that situation worse than having Vince Sledge murdered in front of you?”

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