Page 16 of Playing With Love

And…there it was—more proof. Not that more was needed but it was there all the same. The woman could read me.

“Whatever plan you’re conjuring up in that head of yours, you should stop now. He’s my partner, I’ll deal with him. Just to say, I’d be more than pissed if you involved yourself in my work. I’d be irate, actually.”

I lifted my hands in surrender but only because that mask of indifference she wore had slipped. The smoke show had lifted and her fiery personality shone through.

Fiery and passionate. Two things I loved about her—both out of, but especially in, the bedroom.

The one night we’d spent together had been an education. The woman didn’t have sex, she didn’t fuck, she consumed—nails digging in as she held tight, sucking as she tasted, teeth biting. And she did with a wild look in her eyes that stated plain she would devour every moment and beg for more. Which she’d done. Begged and cried out in pleasure and gave as good as she got. Her desperation had mirrored my own. Yet, I’d stupidly walked away, not ready to admit she was the one. I still had fire in my gut. I wasn’t ready to stop chasing the high of undercover work. Infiltrating the enemy, taking down organizations, stopping the flow of drugs. I didn’t regret my work; what I did regret was losing Liza in the pursuit of it.

“Just tell me his laziness doesn’t put you in danger.”

“He’s too lazy to put me in danger.”

Her response had my chest tightening.

“Lizzy—”

“He’s incompetent, I’ll give you that. But no, he doesn’t put me in danger. It’s this.” She pointed to the ceiling. “He’s upstairs in his room probably watching YouTube instead of looking into Tate Archer or Beatrice Collins. Two names I briefed him on after we left the station. But, why would he when he knows by morning I’ll have a report ready to send in. He doesn’t care that two sets of eyes are better than one. He has no concept of teamwork or how to bounce theories and concepts around. He’s the least interesting or interested person I know.”

I had no idea how Liza worked with Frank. She had little patience for stupidity—under-skilled and unqualified were two of her least favorite qualities.

“Nightmare,” I repeated her earlier assertion.

“Yes. Complete and total pain in my ass.”

Begrudgingly, I let that conversation go and moved us back to a topic that was less likely to make me want to tear into her jackass partner the next time I saw him.

“We have fourteen days to prep for our assignment,” I started but got no further.

“Can we table that discussion for now?”

I took in her tired eyes and wary expression and gave her that play.

“Make you a deal.” My offer was met with skepticism. Not that I blamed her; if I was in her position—meaning on her back foot with a bevy of issues she didn’t want to discuss—I’d be on guard as well. And as much as I wanted the air cleared and answers, now was not the time to push. “You take Beatrice Collins and I’ll dig into Tate Archer.”

Her shoulders sagged in relief.

Don’t get too comfortable, Lizzy, there will be a coming to Jesus soon.

“I’m sure you have better things to do with your night.”

The only better thing I had to do with my time was to spend it with her up in her room. But I knew that option wasn’t on the table.

“You gonna keep me company while I drink?” I asked, knowing the answer.

“No.”

“Right, then I got nothing better to do. Divide and conquer. This saves us both time doing the same work.”

“Fine,” she breathed her agreement.

I picked up my beer and shook my head.

“I see you’re still oh so gracious with accepting help.”

That comment earned me a lip twitch and shoulder shrug.

“You know me…” she let that hang, and popped her abandoned fry into her mouth.