Page 54 of Right Number, Wrong Man
Hailey laughs brightly like she didn’t nearly murder me with a chaste kiss on the cheek. She plops the Stetson back on my head and sinks into her seat, smiling contently.
I cough to hide how hard I’m hyperventilating.
Don’t do it, Colt. Don’t reach over and kiss her. Don’t.
Before I can do something stupid, I start the car and pull out onto the street.
“Fine. Maybe itistime to make peace. Temporarily, atleast,” she says and turns the DVD in her hand. “A truce. You just bought yourself a night of peace, sheriff.”
“I was with the army, not the police,” I say. It’s meant to be a joke, but I sound too gruff, like I’m chastising her.
Damn me and my chronic emotional constipation.
She gives me an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Sheriff sounded funnier in my head, but I meant no offense. You were a sniper, right?”
She remembers that? I thought she didn’t give a rat’s ass about anything to do with me.
“Yeah,” I choke out and smile back, subtly checking my reflection in the rearview mirror.
My grin only looks half as horrible as I thought it would. Still pretty shit, though. I expected more similarities with the Joker, but it’s more on the side of a mild facial spasm. The muscles around my mouth must’ve atrophied from years of scowling.
My head is filled with cotton. The world around me feels far away, separated by a thick fog, and I can’t seem to slow down my heart.
I’ve been in worse situations on plenty of missions and not once did my calm falter, not once did I slip up and let fear get the better of me. But this is the first time Hailey has been nice to me. It’s the first time she’stouchedme voluntarily.
She kissed me on the cheek, for crying out loud!
Which man wouldn’t be an emotional wreck after that?
“Do you always carry a gun because you miss your rifle?” she asks, her voice thick with mischief.
I glance over and find her grinning. Now she’steasingme?Playfully?
I relax a fraction and shrug. “It’s for protection.”
“I don’t believe that. You seem like the type of guy who gives his gun a name.”
I suppress a flinch, hiding the motion in a tap against the holster at my hip. “Nah, this is just a gun.”
My rifle has a name, though. It’s called Grace after your middle name.
My thoughts get too loud and I turn on the radio to drown them out.
“The Eyesnatcher has claimed another victim,” the newscaster announces. “This morning, police found?—”
I grab the tuning nob, switching to my favorite country station. Riley Green’sDon’t Mind If I Doblasts from the speakers and I expect Hailey to complain, but she doesn’t. She nods along and that sight almost gives me another heart attack.
Is it opposite day?
I thought she hated country music. I know Mike did and he tried his hardest to lose his accent, too. He wanted nothing to do with his Texan roots.
Was her dislike for country just his influence spilling over?
“How did you know that theWraithface Chroniclesare my favorite movies?” Hailey asks, wiggling her foot in rhythm with the music. “I watch lots of horror and I don’t think I ever told you.”
I peek at her. She’s painfully beautiful with the sun casting a glow on her face. Her brown hair shimmers like copper and I want to run it between my fingers, wrap those silky strands around my fist.
“Did you forget we grew up alongside each other, Spitfire? I’ve been gone a long time, but I know an awful lot about you from being around back then. From watching. Listening. Paying attention. Hell, I reckon I know almosteverythingabout you.”
