Page 45 of Deadly Secrets
God, I hope so. “Absolutely.”
A smug smile spread across Roman’s features as he shut the door and went around to his side of the vehicle. He started the car and turned to her. “I know you’re top notch in the research department, but it’s like learning to handle a gun. You can read how to shoot and watch a dozen YouTube videos, but until you actually get one in your hands and fire it, you’ll never learn how to handle a weapon properly. So while I agree that book knowledge and researchisimportant, Doc, hands-on research is vital as well.”
In some ways, Roman was like a gun. “No worries there. I have every intention of getting my hands dirty with this research subject.”
His brows furrowed again, seemingly in confusion this time. “Are we still talking about self-defense?”
Quite possibly.
At least where my heart is concerned.
Roman rarely enjoyed taking a woman shopping. Brooke, however, attacked it like she did everything else—with speedy efficiency.
She’d made quick work of grabbing a couple shirts, jeans, underwear, some tank tops, and a pair of flip-flops at the local big box chain store. Into the cart went shampoo, body wash, and deodorant. The store had a section of paperbacks and magazines and she wheeled her cart in that direction.
“I’ll just be a minute,” she said, pointing at the sporting goods area. “Why don’t you see if they have any boxing stuff.”
What was she up to? The place sold everything from guns to soccer balls, but their boxing equipment selection was sparse. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
“Why?” She stopped the cart at the end of the aisle and pinned him with a look. “It’s a public place in the middle of the day. I hardly think I’m in danger.”
He needed to train her in evasion and hand-to-hand combat. Soon. “I don’t take chances.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly and she bit her bottom lip, rolling it in as she seemed to be arguing with him in her head.
Yep, she was definitely up to something, but what?
Damn, he wished he could take her back to his place rather than the office. He wanted a taste of that lip himself.
“I’m just going to grab a fashion magazine.” She wheeled the cart around. “Wait here.”
A fashion magazine? She didn’t strike him as the type to get much out of in-depth articles on the latest runway show and hairstyles. “I thought you needed a research book.”
“Don’t worry about it.” She waved him off. “I’ll figure it out.”
He checked his watch as she made her way down the aisle, then pulled out his phone. He had three texts from his team and one from Cooper Harris. That morning before Brooke had gotten up, Roman had spoken to his boss, Quinn Kuprin. Kuprin had upped Brooke’s official Homeland security clearance and had also mentioned pulling in the SCVC Taskforce to lend a hand with The Reverend case.
Normally, Roman didn’t like sharing. Harris’s team was different. Since they’d helped each other out before, he thought it might be a good idea. Harris’s resources weren’t as wide and deep as Roman’s, but more boots on the ground, finding leads and interviewing sources, never hurt.
The text from Harris told him Director Dupé had okayed a cross-team effort on The Reverend’s case. After the latest mass suicide, the FBI and Homeland seemed to be in agreement that the killer deserved a special, temporary cross-taskforce dedicated to taking him down.
With FBI, DEA, Homeland, and NSA all working this case, Roman felt sure The Rev would be behind bars soon.
Especially if Brooke could help them.
He glanced down the aisle, making sure she was still okay and found her deep in the paperback section. She snatched a book from the shelf, tossed it in the cart and hurried back to him.
“Ready,” she said, blowing by him. “You can bring up the car while I pay for my stuff.”
He took the cart from her and started wheeling it toward the cashiers a mile away. “I’ll take care of it.”
“What?” She tried to take the cart back. “No way. It’s my stuff, I’ll buy it.”
Gently but firmly, he pried her fingers off the handle. “Your clothes and briefcase were stolen because you were helping me with this case. I already owed you a pair of shoes. You’re staying here to work with my taskforce instead of flying off to your next job helping the Smithsonian. I’ve got it covered, Brooke.”
She huffed but turned the cart loose. “I don’t feel right about it.”
They walked and he kept an eye out. The Reverend didn’t seem the type to do his dirty work in public, and yet he obviously knew how to use public places, like the mission, to stalk his prey. “Why not?”
