Page 54 of A Real Good Bad Thing

“Next time, can you tell me your plans?” she asked. She was so earnest in her request, and I knew I’d hurt her by not telling her. I’d had my reasons, true. But she wanted me to show her we were on the same team. I’d have to do that for her if we were to keep working together.

“I will.”

“Good. So,” she said, rubbing her palms, her lips curving as if in anticipation. “How was it? Sneaking into his house?”

“Fun,” I said, flashing a grin.

“Did you get a thrill out of it?” She sounded wickedly enchanted by the possibility. Maybe hooked on it.

“Honestly, yes,” I said. “I love what I do. It’s exciting to try to right a wrong.”

Her gaze drifted to my arm, and the scar I’d recently acquired. “Speaking of righting a wrong, and truth or dare—truth again. That’s not from a fishing accident, is it?”

I held up my hands in surrender and laughed.

“How did it happen? Tell the truth this time. If you even can,” she said, but her tone was teasing, like we’d moved beyond her annoyance over feeling tricked. I was glad of that. Grateful to be onthisside of the evening. Especially when she dropped her hand to my wrist and ran a finger along the scar.

Her touch unlocked me. I no longer wanted to hide who I was from her for self-protection. I wanted her to know me.

I shook my head. “Knife fight in London. Couple of lowlifes who stole a priceless antique.”

“Did it hurt?” she asked.

“At the time, yes.”

“And now?” she asked, running her finger along the line of raised white flesh.

My breath hitched. “No,” I whispered, taking her hand in mine. “Truth or dare?”

She flashed me a grin. “Dare.”

“I dare you to go for a walk on the beach with me.”

“I thought we were trying to focus onjustwork.”

“You mean a walk on the beach isn’t work?” I asked playfully.

“Not with you,” she said.

I couldn’t argue. Truthfully, I wanted to get to know her better. “Let’s talk more.”

I toed off my sneakers and left them on the entrance to the beach next to her flip-flops as we headed along the sand, the ocean waves gently lapping against the shore in a peaceful night rhythm. “You said you appointed yourself as a private detective for your mom. What made you want to do it?”

“Eli screwed around on her for years.”

I burned. “There’s a special place in hell for people who do that.”

“Maybe there is. The hard part is I kind of had a feeling.” She sounded a touch guilty.

“Why do you say that?” I asked.

“He had so many friends who were women. Maybe they were colleagues. I didn’t want to think he was cheating, that he’d hurt our family like that. I sort of hid from the truth at first myself, but even when it was clear what was going on, I wasn’t sure if I should say something or not. Was it my place to tap my mom’s shoulder and say, ‘Mom, do you think your husband’s screwing the assistant?’ But she learned about it on her own, and he groveled, and she tried again. But it didn’t work.”

“She’d had enough of him?”

“Yes. At that point, my brother and I were both out of the house and living on our own, so she no longer felt that obligation that I think was the biggest driving factor for her in staying with him when I was younger. They got divorced, but he’s a very shrewd man and knows how to manipulate. He was able to get away with pretty much everything and leave her with very little.”

I scoffed. Guys like that were the worst. “That’s just shitty.”

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