“I fixed your computer, didn’t I?”
“Anyone can run antivirus software if they research what to run.” The provocative words slipped out and he wished he could call them back.
“Anyone, except you,” she snarked. “Out.” She walked to the door and held it open.
Oh yeah, he was doing this all wrong. He was pushing her buttons, and that was not his intention. She’d even ignored the declaration of love he hadn’t meant to throw out there. “Can we talk about it?” His stomach churned and his heart ached. He rubbed a hand on his chest to ease the discomfort.
“I’m done talking. I’m done trying to prove myself to you. Get out of my house. Before I phone the police.”
“Honey…”
“Stop saying that. Stop.”
God, she was beautiful with her face flushed pink with anger. She stood tall and straight, chest and shoulders heaving, one hand on her hip, the other pointed at the exit. He knew better than show amusement at her anger over using her name. It must be annoying to have your name sound like you were being patronized.
“I apologize.” He stood and walked slowly toward her, trying his best to be non-threatening. She was already irate, no sense angering her further. “Is there nothing you can tell me about your work?” He was pushing his luck.
She pushed the door shut and grabbed him by the hand. She dragged him down the hall and opened another door. She waved widely and gestured him inside to see what wasn’t readily apparent from the doorway.
An entire wall full of computer monitors. Ten of them. Several computers and printers. The room was as neat as a pin. An air conditioner whirred quietly in the window. “Holy cow,” he whispered, half awestruck.
“This is where I work,” sarcasm rang in her voice. “Believe me now?”
“I never said I didn’t believe you. But honestly, for all I know, this means you are a hacker in league with Zindle for some nefarious purpose.” Once again, his errant tongue betrayed him by spitting out random, baseless thoughts. The pain in her eyes hit him like a bullet. He’d gone way too far.
“Suppose you tell me every single detail of all your military missions? Where did you go? Who did you see? Did you drive a tank? Poison some dictator’s water supply? Rescue a village from infidels? Maybe you were a sniper, sitting high on a hillside, randomly gunning down strangers like you were in a video game.”
“It wasn’t like that,” he said, trying to explain himself. “I only shot when I was told to. There was no random killing. Designated targets under the perfect conditions with no chance of hitting an innocent bystander.”
“You were a sniper?” Her voice cracked as it rose on the last word.
“I told you I killed people.” He didn’t try to sound defensive; the words just came out that way. He’d done what he had to. Under orders. He’d spent months in therapy dealing with the aftermath. He’d hated every moment of his job. But he was an excellent shot. One of the best in Canada. He wasn’t a record holder, but he was good with a rifle. He had the skills to fill a need.
“Just how many people have you killed?”
He studied her expression. To his relief, there was no fear, just curiosity and confusion.
“I can’t tell you. You don’t have the clearance. Strictly need to know.”
“I have clearance.” She crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for him to speak.
“Military clearance?”
“Yes.”
“So, you don’t just do random research. You’re working for the military.” She just confirmed his half-formed opinion. He jumped on her mistake and ignored the question of how many people he had killed.
Realization of her slip replaced the confusion in her eyes. “I shouldn’t have said that. Forget you heard it. Please. I could lose my job over this. I need my salary to live on.”
She wouldn’t need money if she married him. He had more than enough to support two people. The thought came out of the blue. He was beginning to think parts of his brain operated on an entirely different level, one that he wasn’t aware of.
“I can’t unhear something, but I can agree not to share the information,” he promised. “Tell me about Zindle. He’s said he’s military, how does that relate to your work?”
“I can’t talk about it. Cameron is my boss. End of discussion. Unless of course you want to tell me about all your hits?”
This was going nowhere. Round and round. Each wanting to know more. Both unable to share the secrets dividing them. If she did have military clearance, she would know better than to push him for details. He could never tell her. Clearance on missions was level four, and need to know. She had no need to know. None.
“You know I can’t talk about it.” He returned to the entry and put his coat and boots on.
“You’re leaving? You just bust in on me, demand answers, then skip out on me?” She was almost yelling. Her eyes flashed with anger and recrimination.
“Unless we have complete honesty between us, this isn’t going to work. Goodbye, Honey. I’ve enjoyed the time we spent together.” He opened the door and slipped out into the hallway, easing it shut behind him.
He was being an unreasonable jackass. If she was military, or a civilian contractor, she couldn’t share what she did. He knew that. He understood her no information stance. Still, it rankled him. If she loved him, she should trust him enough to share her secrets.
“Yeah, like you shared yours,” he muttered as he strode out of the building toward his jeep half a block away.
