Page 121 of Lady and the Hitman
And that was the most dangerous part of all.
Mina let out a breath. “Jesus Christ, Zara.”
I stared at the newspaper.
Then I grabbed it and shoved it into my bag.
“I have to go.”
She didn’t stop me.
I walked the ten blocks to The Tasting Room, unsure if I was heading toward salvation or self-destruction.
When I stepped inside, he was already at the bar.
A glass of neat bourbon in front of him. His jacket off. Sleeves rolled. Expression unreadable.
He turned when he felt me.
I didn’t speak.
He didn’t either.
I walked toward him like I was walking off a ledge.
“I read the column again on the way over,” he said.
My heart pounded. “Don’t quote me to myself.”
“Then answer me.”
“About what?”
“Why you’re afraid.”
I hesitated. “Because I don’t know how to explain you.”
“Then don’t,” he said. “Just show up.”
I exhaled slowly. “You make everything feel bigger than it is.”
“No.” His eyes narrowed. “I make it feel the way it is. You’ve been living small, Zara. Not because it suits you. Because it’s safe.”
I swallowed hard.
“Do you want safe?”
“No.”
He studied me for a long beat.
“Then stop running.”
His hand found mine, sliding across the bar like a claim.
And I had to decide whether or not to pull away.
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