Page 64 of Garrison's Creed

“Not your call, Cash.”

“It’s better that—”

“Stop. Just stop.” She tried for a deep breath, but fury and frustration built in her lungs. “You said we were okay. That we’d work together, that you understand I’m good. Shit, I’m better than good.”

Beth nodded. This nod was a serious one, trying to reinforce the truth. “She is.”

Cash swallowed the rest of his drink. “We are working together. Just let me do the heavy lifting.”

“I might if you talk to me about it first! That’s how partnerships work. You can’t—”

He pushed out of his chair and stood to his impressive height, then leaned over her chair, imprisoning her in his protective arms. “Why not? It’s safer—”

She jutted her chin up to meet his sapphire stare. “To quote the great Cash Garrison,bullshit. You can take a bullet between the eyes as easily as me, so don’t tell me it’s safer for you.”

She pushed a hand against the expansive plane of his chest and stood, matching him. Cash versus Nicola. Losing ground on this would be detrimental to her professionally.

They didn’t say anything. No one around them did either. Every person on the patio stopped and stared. The waitstaff watched. Someone, somewhere clanged a knife on a plate.

“Check please,” Beth whispered.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Being stuck bitch in a Cash-and-Beth-sandwich on the front seat of the truck proved annoying. Beth was passed out and propped up against the door. Cash had an arm draped over the wheel, humming along with the radio like he wasn’t a macho jerk.

Everything he’d said in their spar hadn’t meant a thing. She thought she had a grip on her and Cash, but she was wronger than wrong. She felt plain stupid for assuming that he’d be different than any other man, not seeing what she wanted and instead playing big dog. His delivery, acting all cocky and beating his chest like Tarzan, hadn’t helped. So he wanted to protect her. Too freakin’ bad. It wasn’t his call. Shit, she wanted to protect him. Bet that’d make him shrivel up.

“I’m not sorry.” There he went, running his mouth.

“Couldn’t care less.”

“Well, I’m not thrilled you’re mad at me.”

“Still don’t care.”

Beth smacked her lips as she slept. Her occasional snore broke the hum of the road as Nic directed Cash to Beth’s condo.

“I’m good enough to be out in the field, Cash. I’m strong and I’m smart and—”

“I get that,” he said on a breath. “But I’d rather just take care of it. It’s a man thing. A protective thing.”

“You don’t know me at all. I don’t want to be protected. I like protecting. I’m a sleuthing badass. I like what I do, and you stepping in isn’t, isn’t—”

“Isn’t what, Nic? Not my call? ‘Cause I’m making it my call.”

“It’s not fair.” She pointed for him to make a left turn onto a tree-lined road. “It’s not fucking fair.”

“Babe, life’s not fair. You of all people should know that.”

“But I can choose who I work with, and that means I don’t have to work with you.”

“You do through this assignment.”

“Well, screw that. You and my big brother don’t call the shots.”

“Yes—”

“I’ll go out alone. You and Roman can sit around like old biddies and bitch about that. I don’t care.” She took a breath and pointed. “Pull in right there. That turnabout.”

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