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A voice inside his head screamed at him to run. He was on dangerous ground, not only with her terms, but with the entire conversation. He should walk away now, before he made a mistake that cost him everything.
“I have a counteroffer. And it’s non negotiable.” She raised her eyebrows and he continued. “You can ask, but no guarantee I’ll answer.”
She considered his offer for a few seconds. “Deal.”
“Deal?”
She nodded and for about two seconds he thought he’d outsmarted her, that he’d found a way to have coffee with her without exposing himself and MIS. Then he remembered she probably didn’t need him to say anything to know what he was thinking.
Because she was a fucking prosecutor for the State of Massachusetts.
6
She tried unsuccessfully not to limp during the walk to The Friendly Toast. Her leg hurt, but she didn’t think she’d reinjured it. Her right hip had taken the brunt of the impact of her fall, but her body didn’t absorb shock as well as it had before the accident. A twisted ankle could send pain shooting up her entire leg, and a tough day at the gym could force her onto a regimen of ice and ibuprofen regimen for days. Sometimes she felt like a thirty-year-old trapped in the body of an old woman.
She was almost glad she’d fallen. Nick Murphy would assume her limp was the result of her near run-in with the dog and not something more serious.
He walked silently beside her. She was glad he didn’t offer her an arm, that he didn’t seem to think she needed help even as he matched her pace, probably much slower than he would have walked on his own.
When they finally reached The Friendly Toast, Alexa waved to the manager and he pointed to her favorite spot at the back of the room. Alexa led the way and they settled into the red and white booth.
She resisted the urge to sigh with relief, finally off her feet after the fall, which had freaked her out more than she could let on in Nick Murphy’s company.
She watched as he looked around, taking in the brightly colored room, his gaze traveling over the green and yellow walls, the silver and pink counter, the fifties-style chairs and Formica tables.
“What the fuck is this place?” he asked.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never been to The Friendly Toast.”
“It looks like Disney threw up in here and then finger-painted with its own vomit,” he said.”
She grimaced. “That’s… quite a description. Maybe you should be a writer.”
“Or a restaurant reviewer,” he said. “I’d be honest at least.”
“I like it here. It’s cozy, and the food is amazing.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” he said.
They looked at the menus and Alexa tried to ignore the warning bells ringing in her head. She was having coffee with the potential subject of an investigation. It was true that her office hadn’t yet opened an official investigation into MIS, but they were compiling information with an eye to convening a grand jury.
At the very least, it was highly irregular for an Assistant AG to have a friendly meal with a potential target, and she knew her boss Imani would consider it totally inappropriate.
At least she’d gotten him to agree to questioning. She didn’t actually believe he would tell her anything of value — MIS’s financials were way too clean for Nick Murphy to be anything but highly intelligent — but reading people was a critical skill for a prosecutor, and she was better than most.
She ordered coffee, then listened as Nick ordered a banana waffle with a side of bacon and eggs.
“I thought you said coffee.”
“I assumed when you said you wanted to ask me questions that it was a business breakfast. And if you’re paying, I’m eating,” he said.
Nick Murphy was anything but broke. The assets she’d been able to trace were significant, and she had a feeling they were just the tip of the iceberg.
“I’m not,” she said. “This is unofficial.”
His grin was devastating. “Worth a try.”
She ordered French toast and orange juice, then waited for the waiter to bring their coffee.
