Page 20 of Deadly Secrets
The facts on her background check didn’t mention a significant other, and she didn’t stay in touch with her parents.Must be lonely. “Yours too. You mentioned how booked your schedule is. Twice, I believe.”
Her gaze rose and he smiled, taking the sting off the jibe.
A faltering smile crossed her face. She picked out a chip and crunched on it. “I’d like to see your case notes on The Reverend. If you’re willing to share.”
“You’re joining the DTT?”
“I’ll review the case and see if I can add anything of value to it. Don’t get your hopes up. If the only thing I can help with are the sigils, the analysis I already wrote up will do that much. If I can help beyond that, we’ll discuss my consulting terms. If not, I’ll be on my way. I have a dig waiting for me in Utah.”
Hot damn.Roman finished his sandwich and took a swig of soda, smiling behind the can. “Thank you, Brooke. I mean it. I have no doubt you and I are going to blow this case wide open.”
She broke off a piece of scone, apparently ready for dessert. “You’re doing it again.”
“What?”
She waggled a finger at his face. “Smoldering.”
He grinned and winked. “That’s what heroes do, right?”
Her gaze dropped to her food, but she was grinning too. “Right.”
“So answer me this—Indiana Jones or John McClane?”
“What?”
“Which hero do you prefer?”
“Seriously?”
“Answer the question and I’ll buy you another scone for the road.”
“Neither.”
Hmm. “Then who?”
Her brows squeezed together. “Why do you care?”
But all of a sudden, he knew. It was written all over her face.
Conrad Flynn.
The hero from the romance novel.
Who was an accurate match for him.
“Never mind.” He gathered up their wrappers and the tray. “Let’s go meet my team.”
The Domestic Terror Taskforce had all the cool toys.
Brooke followed Roman through the glass doors of Laudlin Towers, a swanky high-rise on the east side of San Diego, and waited patiently as he greeted the security crew.
“Where you been, Roman, my man?” a young guard asked, sliding a sign-in form across the desk to Roman.
Roman logged them in and did some kind of fist bump-hand slap combo with the guard. “Staying out of trouble, Bijay. You taking care of things here?”
“You know it, brother. I need to see the lady’s ID.”
Brooke fished out her driver’s license and the guard made a note on the computer in front of him before handing it back. “Any weapons?”
