Page 92 of Smith

Disengaged.

Nothing.

“You’re right, it doesn’t. What it needs to be is done. You can’t show me the respect of answering a simple question, there’s the door, Smith. As you said, this is over. Not only me and you but my problems, too. You got your man, your case is all wrapped up, I’m not in danger. Babysitting duty is over.”

His eyes narrowed.

Finally! Something.

“You’re kicking me out?”

“Aren’t you observant.”

Narrowed eyes turned into tiny, scary slits.

“There are no simple questions,” he contradicted.

His refusal to answer, followed up with a stupid excuse that as my father would say, was nothing more than words strung together in a sentence that decisively meant nothing for the sole purpose to evade, proved I wasn’t going to get anywhere.

I couldn’t outsmart, outplay, outmaneuver a Team Guy with years of training. If he didn’t want to speak, he wouldn’t. If he didn’t want me to know his thoughts, I wouldn’t. If he wanted to hide his emotions from me, he would.

I tossed my purse on the couch. Turned and made my way through my house to my bedroom. My oasis. The one room in the house I redid without resale value in mind. This room wasall mine. It had never failed to make me smile—first thing in the morning when I woke up, last thought of the day when I went to sleep. That was, until that moment. I wasn’t smiling, not even my pretty chandelier that cost a fortune and was a monumental pain in the ass to put up brought me joy.

I was pissed, hurt, heart sore, and it was worth the repeatpissed.

I yanked off my clothes, tossed them on the floor, and headed to the shower.

Before I got to my bathroom I heard the front door slam.

I felt the sound ricochet through my body.

The finality of it pierced my stupid heart.

Mission: Fail.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Fuck.

I stepped out onto Aria’s porch, sucked in humid air that did nothing to cool my burning lungs, and stared at her street.

What the fuck am I doing?

I needed to get in my truck, drive away, and leave Aria to her life.

Just answer her question, dumb fuck.

My ringing phone saved me from further contemplation.

Kira.

Thank fuck.

“Hey,” I answered.

“Hey,” she started hesitantly. “Sorry to bother you but I thought you’d like to know, the cops ran the gun, nothing’s popped yet.”

“Good news.”

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