Page 79 of Wicked Sexy (Wicked Games 2)
I force myself to hold his gaze steadily, to keep my breathing slow and even, to stand upright when it feels like I might at any moment fall to the floor.
Without another word, Connor turns on his heel and walks out, leaving the door open behind him.
And what’s left of my heart breaks a little bit more.
Twenty-Two
Connor
As soon as I enter the room, I know something has happened in my brief absence. The mood has turned from excitement to frustration.
Almost as big as my own.
I walk over to Ryan. He’s standing with his arms crossed over his chest, watching me with narrowed blue eyes.
“What’s going on?” I jerk my chin in O’Doul’s direction. He’s huddled with Chan in a corner of the room, gesticulating and shaking his head, obviously annoyed.
“You tell me. Why do you look like your face was on fire and someone tried to put it out with a hammer?”
I sigh and run a hand through my hair. “Here’s the part where I tell you to mind your own business, brother.”
Ryan bristles. “I told that broad in no uncertain terms that if she fucks with you—”
I clap my hand on his shoulder and look him in the eye. “Number one, don’t call her a broad. It’s disrespectful. Number two, dial it down a few thousand notches. I don’t like you threatening her.” My voice softens. “Number three, I appreciate your concern, but this is one battle I’ve gotta face on my own.”
His look sours. “Yeah, well, it looks to me like you’re walkin’ into this battle with a slingshot while the other side has a mile-wide fuckin’ lineup of tanks pointed at your head.”
I slowly nod. “Sounds about right.”
“Listen, brother—”
“I’m a big boy, Ryan,” I say, my voice nearly a growl in my throat. “Leave it alone.”
He cocks his head, folds his tattooed arms across his chest, and thoughtfully strokes his goatee like he does whenever he’s trying to suss something out. After a second, he says, “Huh. Never thought I’d see the day.”
I drop my hand from his shoulder. “Don’t even want to know what that means. And don’t tell me either!” I snap when he opens his mouth to say more.
He shrugs. “Suit yourself, ‘big boy.’” Then he smirks at me. “Just make sure I get an invitation to the wedding.”
“Gimme a fuckin’ break, will you?” I say, scowling.
Ryan has the balls to laugh.
Then O’Doul calls Tabby’s name. Unsmiling, she appears in the doorway of the adjacent office, looking like she’d rather be anyplace else than here. She leans against the door frame and looks him up and down with her lip curled and her nose wrinkled, a hand on her hip.
Ryan says under his breath, “At least you’re not the only one on her shit list.”
I mutter, “Shut up.”
O’Doul’s tone is brusque. “The location file was corrupted. Whatever data your program extracted was useless in determining Søren’s whereabouts. On that front, we’re back at square one.” A loaded pause follows. “So about that phone number you have.”
Tabby says innocently, “Oh, so you need my help with your case again?”
I can already tell where this is going, but O’Doul doesn’t know her as well as I do, so he just nods as if he’s not about to get his balls handed to him on a platter.
“Obviously we’ll take every technical precaution so the call can’t be traced from his end. On ours, you only need to keep him on the line for—”
“And what do I get out of it?”
