Page 16 of Assassin's Prey
Satisfaction colored Bryant’s, “Thank you.”
I ended the call and looked up at three pairs of questioning eyes. “That man is going to be a problem.”
“The detective from last night?” Abby asked.
I grunted a reply.
“He’s just a cop,” Eli pointed out.
“No, he’s not.” I returned to my seat at the table, my arm brushing Abby’s as I passed. “He was part of the team that investigated our parents’ murders.”
Curses erupted from both Remi and Eli.
“What does he want?” Abby asked.
“Us, there. For more questioning.” I glanced at the clock on the microwave. “Can you be ready in an hour?”
Abby crammed the last bite of biscuit into her mouth while shooting me a mean look. A moment later she was heading for the bedroom.
Exactly where I needed her to be.
“E—”
His hand came up before I could even get his full name out. “Dig up everything I can on the douchebag cop, his partner, his family, his cat… I know, I know.” He grabbed his plate and Abby’s and headed for the sink.
“You want me with you at the station?” Remi asked.
I thought about that one a minute. Having two guards for Abby would be best, but… “No. The less exposure we have, the better. He’s already talked to me.”
Remi glanced at the bedroom, then met my gaze again, one eyebrow raised. “I wasn’t worried about Bryant. I’m more worried about a buffer between you and her.”
I gave him my best keep-it-up-and-you’re-dead smile. “Piss off.”
Remi shrugged, but I caught his grin as he took his plate over to the sink. My hand hit the back of his head as he passed. “Shut up.”
He snorted. “Make me, dickhead.”
Impossible. If I’d learned anything in the nineteen years since we’d been on our own, that was it. Running mouths and rampant opinions were a given. Unless we were on an op—then everyone deferred to me.
Everyone except Abby.
OceanofPDF.com
Chapter Eight
A police station was not the ideal place for a man like me, but that wasn’t why I tensed as we walked up the front steps. No, it was the visceral assault of memories that had me wanting to escape so hard I was sweating.
Abby brushed her hand along my bicep, seeming to sense my anxiety. She always did, even though I’d long ago perfected hiding my emotions. Hopefully no one here had her ability to see through my disguises.
A single touch wasn’t enough. As she passed through the door I held open for her, I settled my palm at the small of her back. Guiding her, yes, but also reminding myself. This is who I was now, the man whose simple touch could connect me with the most important person in my world.
Not the eleven-year-old boy who’d been filled with so much fear and grief and rage that he’d thrown up every time his uncle brought him here.
Even the smell was the same. Garbage, coffee, and chemical air freshener that couldn’t mask the underlying age and decay of the building and its inhabitants. We crossed the foyer to the front desk, the ring of my boots on the bleached tiles an echo of my past, a death knell that urged me over and over to flee. Back then, it was Amos Agozi’s cruel hand digging into my thin, bony shoulder that kept me moving forward. Now it was the discipline I’d built over a lifetime of survival, of killing. I knew what had to be done to get what we needed: information. I’d face my demons for Abby; nobody else.
“May I help you?” the man behind the desk asked.
“We have an appointment with Detective Bryant,” Abby said. I watched the man soften as he eyed her, the glimmer of attraction sparking in his expression. A little younger than me, without the hard edge I’d cultivated all my life. Did Abby want someone like him? Would her life be easier if I left her to find a man without my baggage?
