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When the elevator arrives, I rush inside and sag against the back wall, closing my eyes. What a fucking day, and I still have to meet Bronson. Groaning, I ride down to my car and slide into the leather, relaxing for a moment before I start the engine.
Well, at least now they might actually start treating me like a human instead of an object.
I meet Bronson behind Taco Bell like he asked, and when I get out of the car, he strides over before getting in my face. “No wire? Do you want to go back to jail?” he threatens.
“Oh, cut the shit. I couldn’t wear it, they would find it. We need a different way. Did the receipt help at least?” I snap, propping my hands on my hips.
He groans, scrubbing his face. “Maybe, but we need a way to know everything, and meeting every night isn’t possible, so wire or jail,” he warns.
“What if I report every night?” I question desperately.
He frowns, watching me. “Fine, every night I want an email with a rundown of the day. Make notes in your phone if you have to. And keep searching, we need more than a receipt. We need something that ties them to the location of the murder.”
“That won’t happen, they’re too smart,” I argue, already knowing that.
“Don’t give me shit, O’Brien, just do it,” he yells in my face before storming away as I throw my hands in the air.
“Maybe if you told me more of what I’m looking for,” I start, but he gets in his car and peels away, leaving me standing there. “I could help,” I finish. “Asshole.”
I get back into the Ferrari and program the map to take me home. It’s definitely a wine kind of night, stupid men and their fragile egos. Can’t they all see what’s right in front of them? Not just a pretty face…but an opportunity?
If only Bronson would trust me, if only the Dixen brothers would let their guard down…
If only…
