Page 49 of Wicked Sin

“No thanks.”

“Not about the kiss. I thought we could get to know each other better.”

“You know me as well as anyone.” She says it flippantly, but I wonder if it’s true. Which isn’t to say that I know her—I don’t. But maybe nobody does.

“Then I need to play catch up on the sharing. Remember how I told you that you’re my only case?”

“Sure, I guess.”

“You might be my last case as a detective. At least for a while. I’ve put in a transfer request to an undercover unit.”

That gets a flash of interest. “Dangerous.”

“It can be.”

“Why do you want to transfer?”

Because it’s dangerous. “I’m ready for the next challenge.”

“Bullshit.” Her eyes are bright now. Curious.

“That’s the polite version of the answer, I guess. It’s not a lie.”

“But it’s not the whole truth. You want to share, Detective, you gotta share for real. Because it’s hard to compete with my mom pimped me out to her billionaire friends when I was a ripe little Lolita.” She purses her lips. “Have you ever shot anyone?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me about that.”

“No.”

“You’re no fun.”

And now we’re back to bratty. Fantastic. Instead of rising to the bait, I relax back in my chair and drink my coffee.

It doesn’t take long for her to shift uncomfortably.

I smile.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“That’s a classic trick, creating silence so I’ll fill it.”

“It’s not a trick. You didn’t seem to like my efforts to make conversation.”

She looks down at her own mug, sitting on the coffee table.

“Do you want more coffee?”

She shakes her head. “I’m fine.”

“Let me know when you’re ready to eat something. I’m a decent cook.”

“Stop!” The word tears out of her, a bark, and then she slaps her hand over her mouth—in exactly the same way I did just a little while ago.

I slowly raise my free hand, palm out. “Hey. It’s okay.”

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