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She ignores me and reaches into the bag. For one insane second, I think she's going to pull out another surveillance device. Instead, she produces beef jerky.
“I brought this.”
I stare at it.
She wiggles the bag.
“No.”
“You don't even know what kind it is.”
“I don't care.”
“Original.”
“Callie.”
“Not teriyaki.”
“I said no.”
“Peppered would've been my second choice, but—”
“Put the fucking jerky away.”
She does.
I look back at Mercer's house.
Silence settles inside the truck.
Ten seconds.
Twenty.
Thirty.
I can feel her beside me. She's actually quiet. Which somehow makes it worse.
I glance over.
She stares straight ahead, hands folded in her lap.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“What are you doing?”
“Sitting.”
“I told you to go home.”
“I don’t like being told what to do.” Her green eyes meet mine. “Especially by men. Unless we’re naked and—”
“Stop.” I breathe slowly through my nose.
She reaches into her bag. It rustles.
