Page 8 of Deadly Secrets
Brooke squeezed the shoe in her hand so tightly her fingers cramped. “Rejecting your offer has nothing to do with my ego. I’m more than happy to work with the caliber of experts on your taskforce.Yourego, however, could be one of the reasons I’ve repeatedly declined your offer in the nicest way possible. Since that has been completely ineffective, let me state my refusal more clearly: no way in hell will I work for you.”
“With me,” he corrected. “You wouldn’t work for me, Dr. Heaton, onlywithme.”
“Your ego can’t handle it.”
He chuckled. “My ego can handle anything you dish out, sweetheart. I welcome the challenge.”
The look he flashed her confirmed his statement, his eyes made even more intently blue in the dashboard light. The shoe clenched in her fingers didn’t get a reprieve, but her solid grip was for an entirely new reason.
The devil on her shoulder liked this cat-and-mouse game. Liked how Roman was as at ease trading banter with her as he was saving her from a rain of bullets.
I need you.
How long had she waited to hear those words? From anyone?
Plus, she was actually talking to him while in the close confines of his car where she could smell the not intolerable scent of coffee and male sweat under the alcohol he must have splashed onto his shirt to convince his contacts that he was drunk. Maybe if she kept him on his toes and their dialogue laced with her honest irritation at him, she could stop feeling like a ridiculous teenage girl.
“You may enjoy a verbal sparring match, Dr. Walsh, but I find most of them to be tedious and unnecessary.”
“Is that so, Dr. Heaton?”
He was just as mouthwateringly gorgeous in profile as he was full on. The right side of his mouth quirked as if he were holding back another insouciant grin. He may have been reining in the smile, but his voice was full of mocking humor.
All right. Walsh wasn’t the only one who liked a good challenge. She was known for her stubbornness. “Look, Dr. Wa—”
“Call me Roman. I did, after all, save your life less than an hour ago.”
He wasn’t going to let her forget that she owed him. The tiniest bit of guilt sizzled in her belly.
Idoowe him.
She dropped her head back against the headrest. She’d love to call him by his first name, but that evoked a level of friendship, an intimacy, they didn’t share, regardless of his heroic act in the bar. “Even if my current work schedule wasn’t already maxed, providing consulting services to the DTT would present a challenge for me. I’m already consulting with the SCVC Taskforce when needed. There could be a…conflict of interest.”
“Conflict of interest?” He snorted. “Cooper Harris and I are on the same page. Our cases often overlap and we share resources, just like tonight. Thomas Mann’s CI inside the MS-13 group recently went missing so I stepped in and used mine. Yes, Harris and I report to different directors, but we’re all on the same side.”
Arguing with him was getting her nowhere and they were nearly to her hotel. “Why me?”
The question seemed to catch him off guard, which was exactly what she’d intended. “Whynotyou?”
“No, I mean it. Why me specifically? Why are you so determined to get me on your team?”
She wasn’t sure what she expected to hear, and she watched his expression intently to see if he had to comb through the reasons.
He didn’t. As he pulled into the hotel lot, he put the Jeep in park and turned to her. “You’re the best on the West Coast, Dr. Heaton, in all areas of your expertise. Maybe in the entire country.” He gave her that irritating grin once more and took the Madden from her hand as he leaned in close. “And I only ever allow theverybest on my team.”
Before she could respond—she was once more speechless anyway—his phone rang.
The Jeep’s in-dash nav system was linked to his cell by Bluetooth. The sexy nav voice told him the incoming call was from Polly. Did he want to answer?
Polly, of course. Probably his girlfriend. Brooke reached for the door latch. “Thanks for the ride.”
She started to get out, but the door was locked. A hand landed on her arm as he answered the phone.
“What’s up, P?”
The woman’s voice sounded young, a little anxious. “You okay, boss? We heard about the gunfight with Merton.”
“All limbs intact, although I’m on the hook for a pair of shoes by some guy named Steve Madden.”
