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He came over, each step angrier than the last, and sat exactly where she pointed. “Yes, ma’am.”
This was going well.
If by well, you really meant disastrous.
Big shocker there.
She pressed record on her phone. “Tell me what happened, in detail, please.”
He stared at the phone. It was routine to record an interview with a person involved in a crime, but it was a way to keep herself on track, too. She couldn’t yell at him for hurting her if her bosses would hear it.
Mark leaned back, crossed his arms, and said, “Steven and I work for the Shillings Agency, a private security company. We were assigned to guard Mr. DeLaCourte, a diplomat from France, and we spotted the suspect in the corner, watching our client. Steven said he’d go for him, and pull him away to safety, so I went after the suspect. As I approached, he pulled out a gun and aimed for my client. I lunged in front of the suspect—”
“In front of a loaded gun?” she asked. “Without protection?”
He tapped his fingers on his sleeves. “My charge didn’t have protection, either, ma’am. It’s my job to protect him.”
Leaning forward, she grabbed her phone and hit the pause button. “You could have been killed,” she pointed out.
He shrugged. “But I wasn’t.”
“It was still a dangerous risk, considering your stance on the subject.” She relaxed against the back of the chair again. “You remember why we broke up, right?”
“I do,” he said between gritted teeth.
“What if you’d been hit?”
He shook his head. “I wasn’t.”
“I wasn’t, either, the other day.” She shrugged. “And yet you broke up with me anyway.”
“I was just doing my job,” he said slowly.
“So was I. I know, I know. It’s different, right? Only…it’s not. Because you broke up with me for doing exactly what you did today. Your job.” She hit record on the phone, ending the conversation. “What happened next, Mr. Matthews?”
He stared at her for a second. “Daisy—”
“Officer O’Rourke,” she corrected. “Tell me what happened next.”
He stiffened. “I took the suspect to the floor, and Steven ushered our client to safety. He might have knocked him down, too, but I’m not sure. I was too busy securing the suspect. I placed zip ties on his wrists, and then we waited for the police to arrive, and now I’m here, in this room, with you.”
She nodded, reaching for her phone, but not pressing the stop button on the recording just yet. “Were you injured in any way?”
“No.”
“Are you certain?” she asked, eyeing the way he favored his left arm.
“Positive. Are we finished yet?”
“Yes.” She pressed the stop button. “I—”
He stood up immediately. “You know where to find me if you need me.” He headed for the door without another glance her way. “Thanks, ma’am.”
She gripped the edge of the table tightly. So tightly her fingers ached and her palms throbbed and her arm muscles protested. She wouldn’t say a word. Wouldn’t pick a fight. Wouldn’t make a fool out of herself. Wouldn’t—
The chair squeaked on the floor as she pushed it back forcefully. “So, let me get this
straight. It’s okay for you to risk your life, but not me. So, what, because you’re a man, it’s okay? But women should stay in the kitchen and cook,” she said, knowing it would piss him off, and despite her best interests, really wanting to get under his skin one last time.
