Page 98 of No Headlines Please

Her eyes filled with something that looked almost like relief. "Good." But then her jaw tightened. "But just so you know, if I see you again, I will be calling the police. Or the FBI. Or somebody."

I stared. What the fuck?

I didn't respond well to threats, especially to threats that were so ridiculous I wasn't sure whether to argue or laugh.

I'd seen more than my share of crazy. And Delaney wasn't the first girl to change her clothes before picking a fight.

By now, I'd seen just about everything.

I gave her a look. "So you're telling me to what? Leave Chicago?" I couldn't contain my sarcasm. "Uh, yeah. That's not gonna happen."

"Seriously? Even though it's over?"

Was she nuts? Hell, if I was forced to leave town every time I pissed someone off, I'd spend half of my time on the road.

I let out a humorless laugh. "But hey, you could always leave."

"Fine." She gave me a stiff smile that didn't even come close to reaching her eyes. "Asshole." And with that, she turned and stomped away, leaving me staring after her.

Silently, I watched her go until she stopped not at the nearest elevator, but at the door to the stairwell. She yanked it open and disappeared quicker than I could say, What the fuck just happened?

I was still staring at the empty space when I suddenly realized something.

Her car.

In all the drama, I'd forgotten to mention it.

Fuck.

39

One Card, No Answers

Delaney

Walt stared from the open doorway. "Have you been crying?"

Yes, I had, in fact. After leaving Maddox, I'd made it down only three flights before bursting into tears – as if I'd just broken up with a boyfriend of two years instead of a dangerous stranger I'd known for barely two days.

What a joke. I couldn't even call it a breakup, because we had never been a couple.

I wasn't even sure why I'd cried. I kept telling myself it wasn't about him at all. After all, the past two days had been a complete dumpster fire without any help from him – whatever his name was.

And now, I was about to cry in front of Walt, someone else I barely knew. But I'd still felt obligated to stop by – not for my sake, but for his.

In reply to his question, I reached up and rubbed at my eyes while mumbling, "It's probably just allergies."

Walt studied my face. "Allergies, my ass. What's wrong?"

Inside his apartment, the ballgame was blaring. On the side-table next to the nearest recliner, I saw the plate I'd brought down earlier – except now it was empty, with the foil crumpled up beside it.

I tried to smile. "Nothing. I've just got something to tell you, that's all."

He glanced at my dress. "You changed your clothes."

"Uh…yeah." Heat crept up my neck. "That's part of the story, I guess." Again, my gaze strayed to his TV. "But maybe you want to wait for a commercial?"

"Eh, forget the game," he said. "The Sox are down by six. No way they're pulling that out of their ass." He flicked his head toward the living room. "You wanna come in?"