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“Is this because we slept together?”
“Probably, yes,” he conceded.
“So now we have something to lose?”
“Us, we have us to lose. Maybe you could… you could do something else.”
“Oh, I get it. I’m the girl. Let the big strong guy do the heavy lifting, play the hero while I stay home in pumps and pearls and bake the cookies and pop out the babies.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“In case you missed it, slick, I can take care of myself.”
“I’m not denying that.”
“So if you’re really gung ho on this domestication thing why don’t you stay home and play house, and I’ll kick down the doors and shoot the guns?”
“I can’t live my life that way. Always worried that you wouldn’t come home.”
She pulled off at an exit, drove the truck onto the shoulder, slammed the gear shift into park, and faced him.
“Well, how do you think I’d feel if I were the one waiting at home?”
“The same as me,” he said quietly.
She nodded. “That’s right. The same as you. At least if we’re out here together, we have each other. We can rely on each other to get us both home every night.”
“And if we both take it in the end? Like what almost happened tonight?”
“I can’t think of any other way I’d want to go out. How about you?”
After a long moment of silence he tapped the steering wheel. “Put it in gear. We’ve got a job to do.”
“So we’re on the same page now?”
“Actually I’m pretty sure we always were.”
CHAPTER
59
THE SUV HAD SCREECHED to a halt on Fifth Avenue, the door had opened, two burly men had jumped out, lifted Peter Bunting completely off the pavement, and thrown him into the vehicle before he knew what was happening. The truck had raced off and he’d found himself squished between his two captors. They said nothing in response to his questions. They never even looked at him.
The place they took him to was belowground and heavily secured. It was a location New Yorkers would walk over millions of times a day and never know was even there. The room was dark. Bunting stared up at the man in fear.
James Harkes looked different than he had in past meetings. He was dressed the same; black suit that could barely restrain his muscular physique. But his demeanor was different. It was crystal clear that Bunting was no longer in charge.
If I ever was.
Harkes was. Or rather whomever Harkes was reporting to, and Bunting now had a solid idea of who that was.
“Let’s go over your debrief one more time, Bunting.”
There was no more Mr. Bunting.
“We’ve been over it three times. I’ve told you everything.”
“We’ll go over it until I’m satisfied.”
