Page 52 of Callan

“I don’t live there if that’s what you expected me to say.”

His eyes hold mine.

“Why were you looking for me?” he asks.

Ignoring his question, I cross my arms over my chest and lean against the counter.

“How did you know I was there?” I probe in defiance.

He tips his gaze down as if he’s noticed a piece of lint on his coat before quickly pushing his reply to me.

“Stop playing games, Mackenzie. You don’t need to know everything about me. In fact, the less you know, the better you are.”

“I’ve already figured that one out. Still, there is stupid shit that falls into my lap, and I have no choice but to keep you informed.”

I would invite him to take his coat off, sit down, and perhaps have a cup of coffee.

To my chagrin, he slides his hands into his pockets, making my idea silly.

“What did you find out?” he asks.

“Her husband is back,” I say, gauging his reaction. “But you must know that.”

He silently nods.

Oh. So, he does?

Maybe he has other people running surveillance as well.

Or maybe he’s doing it himself.

“What else?” he mutters, not in a good mood.

He cocks an eyebrow at me, and the kitchen lights glint in his eyes. His arresting looks make my heart skip a beat. It's too bad that his personality is flawed, and at times, I walk on a minefield with him.

“Someone broke into her place.”

My eyes are stamped on his face, waiting for the slightest reaction. Deep down, I want to know whether he was the person going through her things.

Whether he is a crook dressed like a king and whether this story has layers buried so deep that if I knew the truth, I’d run for the hills.

“What makes you say that?”

Curiosity glimmers in his eyes, borderline misleading.

Maybe he’s curious about what I have to say and not what has actually happened, which doesn’t exclude the possibility that he might’ve been involved.

What is it with him and the woman upstairs?

I honestly don’t see the connection.

It all started like a tryst. A sexual escapade with foreseeable complications since she was married.

It was all about him hitting on the wrong woman and having some fun before her crazy husband came home.

But this is not that.

“Would you like a glass of wine?” I ask, pushing off the counter and allowing him to ponder my offer as I turn my back to him and reach inside the cupboard.

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