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I sip my beer.
“This is the worst idea ever.” She picks up her pint and drinks deeply, before asking, “What in God’s name would he want with you? If he’s interested in someone pissing him off, that I can see. But buddying up to him then becoming his new best friend has failure written all over it. Or are you going to pimp yourself out and become his boy toy?”
I choke on my beer. If I were so inclined,he’dbemyfeckin’ boy toy.
“If so, you should reconsider given your skill set.”
“My skill set?” I sputter.
She flashes me a wide grin.
Christ’s sake. I’ve half a mind to bend her over the table and give her what for. End the assumption I’ve planted in her head. Ride her hard then send her packing.
If Hayden catches wind of my involving a civilian, there’ll be hell to pay. The world runs smoother with TORC handling governments’ dirty work. We follow a strict set of rules—Hayden’s rules. My colleague, Kylie Smith, could give you an earful on what happens when those rules get broken.
But boss did say, “By any means possible.” Involving this attractive, feisty woman into the game will help balance things out.
“We work together, you forget that night.”
She nods. “If you stop being vague and start treating me like your partner.”
“I’m going to do better than that. I’ll be treating you like my chailín.” When I see her confusion, I add, “Mymot. My girl.”
“Your girlfriend.”
“That’s what I said.”
She rolls her eyes.
“Ever play good cop, bad cop?” I ask her.
“Yes.” She quickly comes to her feet. Jaysus, she’s excited. And wouldn’t you know that sparkle in her eyes is making me hard. Then her lips curl up to light up the room. She’s beautiful, in a pure and wholesome way. A person with morals. A woman on a mission to change the world as she sees fit.
Shame I’m going to disappoint her.
She laughs, drawing my attention. “I’m always the bad cop.”
I feel my cock hardening. “I bet you’re a bad one. Naughty. Filthy, even. With a mouth on you worth listening to.”
A pink flush trails up her neck to her cheeks. She’s sexy. Smart. Observant. A risk-taker. She’s got the skill set that’ll help lock down this buyer.
But I don’t want to see her killed.
I’d like her to get her happy ending, though with the lies I’ve been dishing out, it’s unlikely she’ll find one.
“A toast,” I say, breaking the moment. Focus on the job, you eegit, and stop messing with her head. “May we get what we want. May we get what we need—”
“I know this one,” she interrupts. She reaches across the table and clinks her pint to mine.
“But may we never get what we deserve.”
