Page 67 of Tate
She threw her arms around his neck, holding on. “Tate. Sheesh. Knox told me about the fight.” She leaned back, glaring up at him. “Why did you let him get the jump on you?”
He blinked at her. “Uh…”
She grinned. “Kidding. But you scared the snot out of me.” She kissed his cheek. “What are you doing here?”
“Don’t you answer your voicemails?”
Her mouth gaped a moment before she made a face. “Oh. Right.” She went into the kitchen and opened a drawer. Pulled out a smartphone and scrolled. “Seven messages?”
“I’ve been worried.”
She set down her phone. “Aw?—”
“No, seriously. I’ve been calling you for nearly two weeks. Where have you been?”
She slid the cell phone back into the drawer. “At work.”
He made a face.
“Sorry. We’ve had a few things, uh, going down…”
Her gaze flickered to a satchel tossed onto the sofa. And that’s when he spotted the suitcase. The Delta planeside check tag still dangled from the handle. “Work?”
She walked over and grabbed the bag. “Work travel.”
He spotted her passport in the side pocket of the satchel and made a grab for it.
“Tate! That’s my personal business.”
“Italy. You went to Italy?” He thumbed another page over. “And the Czech Republic?”
She retrieved the passport from his hand. “Yes. I…had work there.”
“RJ—”
“Have you eaten?”
“Not since this morning. A bagel in the Nashville airport.”
“Nashville.” She trolleyed the suitcase into the bedroom and he followed. She threw it on the bed, then pushed him out of her room and back to the living room. “What are you doing there?”
“I’m working for Senator Jackson—nice digs, by the way.”
A long, gray contemporary sofa lined one wall, two armless chairs on the far side by the window, and a metal-and-glass coffee table centered the room, all on a white Persian rug over wooden floors. A flat-screen television hung from the wall.
“Yeah, yeah. Senator Jackson? Glo’s mother? How did you get that gig?”
“Glo fired me, her mother hired me. Easy. And now I’m trying to keep Glo safe from the Bryant League.”
Ruby Jane sank onto the sofa and pushed her hands into her hair. He’d forgotten her habit of messing her hair when she was thinking. Or frustrated.
“You okay, sis?” He sank down into one of the armless chairs.
She leaned back, let her head flop, closed her eyes. “Yeah. Long few days.”
“At work. In Europe. Yeah, that jet lag is a beast.”
Her mouth quirked into a smile. “Fine.” She opened one eye. “I sometimes go out to the field to help with…situations.”
