Page 41 of Things We Hide from the Light
“Then you just happen to have a history with the marshal in charge of being a pain in my ass.”
Lina interlaced her fingers on the table and leaned forward. “Nolan and I had a sweaty, naked forty-eight-hour fling in a motel in Memphis five or six years ago.”
“That was right about the time you recovered $150K in stolen jewelry for your bosses at Pritzger, wasn’t it? And those fellas you recovered it from just happened to be the subject of an FBI investigation, didn’t they?”
She studied me for a long beat. “Where did you get that information?”
“The bust was big news. Made some headlines.”
“My name wasn’t mentioned in any of them,” she said coolly.
“Ah. But it was mentioned in the local PD’s incident report.”
Okay, so I’d done more than alittlequiet digging today.
She blew out a breath through her teeth. “What do you want?”
“Why are you here? And don’t give me some bullshit about missing your old pal Knox,” I warned when she opened her mouth. “I want the truth.”
I required the truth.
“I’ll say this slowly so you’ll be sure to catch it all the first time around. I’m none of your business. My business, including who I am or was ‘friendly’ with, what I do for a paycheck, and why I’m in town are also none of your damn business.”
I leaned in closer until our knees brushed under the table. “All due respect, Angelina? I’m the one with holes in me. And if you’re here for any reason relating to that, then it’s very fucking clearly my business.”
Her phone rang and the caller ID on the screen read “Dad.”
She stabbed the Ignore button and pushed the phone away, tension in her movements.
“Talk. Now,” I said.
She bared her teeth, her eyes going dark and dangerous. For a second, I thought she was going to lay into me, and I relished the thought of her anger rising up to slam into mine, waking it up and fanning it into an inferno.
But the inferno was interrupted by a shrill beep.
Lina slapped her hand over the watch on her wrist, but not before I saw the number on the screen next to the red heart.
“Is that a heart rate alert?” I asked.
She came out of her chair abruptly enough to startle the dogs. I got to my feet.
“That, like everything else involving me, is none of your damn business, Chief,” she said, then started for the doorway.
She almost made it, but we’d both underestimated my level of mad. I caught her, my hand clamping around her wrist and drawing her back.
She spun. I stepped. And that was how I found myself standing flush against her with her back to the wall.
We were both breathing heavily, our chests moving against each other with every inhale. She was a tall, long-legged woman, but I still had enough inches on her that she had to tilt her head to look up at me. I could see the pulse at the base of her throat.
Yes.It was a whisper in my blood. The closer I got to her, the louder it grew.
With control, I ran my hand down her opposite arm to her wrist and lifted it. She watched me without pulling away. I broke eye contact to glance at her watch. “That’s a pretty high heart rate for sitting around talking,” I observed.
She tried to pull free, but I held on.
“I wasn’t sitting around talking. I was sitting around trying not to break a cop’s nose.”
I still had her hand in mine. Her other one was fisted in my shirt. But she wasn’t pushing me away. She was holding me where I stood.
