Page 131 of The Exit Strategy

“Cole.”

“Juniper.”

She sets down her fork, and unease unfurls in my gut when she refuses eye contact. “I need to tell you something.”

My mind quickly takes inventory of what the hell she could say right now.

Whatever it is, I’ll fix it.

There’s nothing I can’t help her address. Resolve. Take care of.

“I got the document from the handwriting specialist. It’snotarized, and she’s been used in numerous court cases, so she’s reliable.”

My shoulders unlock with one long exhale I hope she doesn’t notice.

“Okay, that’s good.” Really fucking good. So good, I worry for a moment that the flood of relief coursing through my veins will make me miss something important.

“There’s more.”

I stare at her, waiting patiently while my insides do the exact opposite.

“I found an address,” she says.

It takes me a moment for my brain to comprehend what she’s saying.

“Devin,” I rumble. That asshole hasn’t ruined enough for me? Now he’s ruining my first date with Junie?

Figures.

“I found it yesterday. It’s for a PO Box in Charleston, and in order to get a PO Box, you have to give them a street address…so one exists. We just have to find it.”

I’m chewing on the inside of my lip while my mind recategorizes and restructures one clusterfuck after another.

“Okay,” I say cautiously.

“I almost went to check it out.”

I suppress a smile. Junie likes information even more than her coffee. Sitting on this must have been torturous. “But you didn’t.”

She shakes her head.

“And you really wanted to go. You probably had visions of stakeouts, complete with snack choices.” It’s a guess rooted in history.

“Just because you think you know everything about me doesn’t mean you need to always share with the class.”

“I don’t think, sweetheart. I do know everything about you—everything important anyway.”

“Didn’t Nana Mae teach you to be a gentleman? Sometimes it’s okay to let things go, Cole.” Her scoff attacks my nerve endings with a pleasurable shock.

“Like you did with your stakeout plans.” I’m no longer in control of my tone. It’s low, silky, and intended to undo her.

“I’m giving you your four days. I should at least get credit for that, by the way. Noted for the record at the very least. I’m giving up a fundamental piece of my identity by not going after this information.”

“Noted,” I rumble. “Tallied and recorded for posterity’s sake.”

She picks her fork back up, but I’m not sure if it’s to continue eating or to use it as a weapon.

I’m finding I like the unknown of Juniper Mercer even more than the snark and sass of Viper. Since the day I met her, her modus operandi has been to react first and worry later. Yet here, at The Haven, she’s given me four days because I asked for them.