Page 149 of Things We Hide from the Light
“It’s your tell. You should do something about it.”
“Angelina?”
“Yeah.”
“I meant what I said. Dilton is my problem. If he tries to contact you again, I need to know.”
“Got it,” I said softly.
“Good.”
“How are you feeling? Not that I care,” I added quickly.
“Better. Solid. I kicked Knox’s ass at Career Day,” he said smugly.
“Literally or metaphorically? Because with you two, it could go either way.”
“Bit of both. You sleep okay?” Nash asked.
I’d slept like the dead. Just like I did every time I was in bed with Nash.
“Yeah,” I said, not willing to give him more.
“What’s that psychology minor say about a girl who doesn’t like to be touched except by the guy who just keeps pissing her off?”
“That she has serious emotional issues that need to be addressed.”
His laugh was soft. “Have lunch with me, Angel.”
I sighed. “I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Mostly can’t. I’m not in town.”
“Where are you?”
“Arlington.”
“Why?”
I wasn’t falling for the “come on, you can tell me anything” tone. But I also had nothing to hide.
“I’m waiting for Wendell Baker.” I told him.
“You’re doing what?” He was back to using his cop voice again.
“Don’t be dramatic. You know what I mean and who he is.”
“You’re surveilling muscle for an organized crime family?” he demanded.
And there he was, my pissed-off, overprotective-for-no-reason, next-door pain in the ass.
“I’m not asking for permission, Nash.”
“Good. Because I sure as hell wouldn’t give it,” he said.
“You are infuriating, and I want off this merry-go-round.”
