Page 17 of Deadly Force
“That’s… really sweet.”
The side of my mouth twists. “I’m not doing it because it’s sweet. I’m doing it because it’s the right thing to do.”
She lets out a tinkling laugh. “Oh, that’s right—big, tough men aren’t allowed to be vulnerable.”
My fingers tap the steering wheel as the pavement flies under us. This woman is getting under my skin.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, lady. I’ve seen grown men crying for their mamas. I’d call that plenty vulnerable.”
“Mmm. Where was that?”
I glance at her and flinch when I find her furiously scribbling in her notepad. “What are you doing?”
“Writing down what you just said.”
Checking behind me first, I pull over to the side of the road and extend my hand. “Lemme see.”
She snatches it up and holds it to her chest. “No! Why? It’s in shorthand. You won’t understand it.”
I wiggle my fingers. “I want to see.”
She heaves a sigh, then slaps the notepad into my hand. “I’m telling you?—”
With a smile, I rip the note off, along with three sheets underneath, just in case she decides to go old school and use a pencil to recover what she wrote. As she mutters under her breath, I crumple the paper into a ball and toss it over my shoulder.
“Nice try. But I’m not interested in being in your story.”
Her shoulders square. “I wasn’t going to put youin it. I don’t even know how to explain you to my boss, let alone write a story featuring you.”
I lock eyes with her. “Then why were you taking notes?”
At the slightest dip of her chin and the flash of annoyance in her eyes, I know I’ve caught her in a lie. I need to be careful. She’s an ally, but she’s also far too hungry for recognition.
“Consider everything I say to you off the record and confidential.”
Her nostrils flare. “Are you always this guarded?”
I shake off her comment. “You always this nosy?”
She chuckles, and the sound makes warmth spread through my bones. “I’m paid to be.”
I flick a look in the rearview and swing out onto the road again. “And I’m paid to be cautious.”
“Do you get paid per square inch?” she says.
“Funny,” I say.
“Well, do you?”
I blink, grind my teeth, and clench the wheel tighter. “What I get paid, and everything else to do with Hightower, isn’t up for discussion.”
“Couldn’t you at least tell me about the structure?—"
No. I can’t. Thestructureand everything else about Hightower are strictly need-to-know.
“This isn’t a negotiation.”
She harrumphs but doesn’t say another word.
