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I’MINCONTROLHERE.I have to tell myself that because fear charges through my veins like a shock of electricity, filling me with jittering energy. I’m in control.
Sure, beefcake number one is holding my arm so tight I’m sure he’s going to leave a bruise. And okay, ofcourseI would feel safer if I had a weapon handy. But I know how to handle a big guy. I know exactly where my elbows and knees need to go. And I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he thinks I’m a dumb drunk girl and based on that he will underestimate me in a fight. Which I willabsolutelyuse to my advantage.
“C’mon, pretty girl.” He leers at me with his colourless eyes, and his puffy lips curve into a smile. “Let’s go this way.”
Dark hair, dark eyes. Heavy brow and bulbous nose. Tattoos on his right arm that peek out from his cuff. They’re coloured tatts. Faded, though. Details rattle through my brain at lightning speed, all getting logged away so I can compare them to mugshots Max provided us at the beginning of the assignment.
“No,” I say in a kind of singsong voice my roommate uses when she’s had a few too many Chardonnays. “I don’t want to go that way.”
I glance at Matt, who doesn’t even try to intervene. And he knows who I am, because I saw it on his face the second we made eye contact. Not that he mentioned it, however. He acted like he’d never seen me before. I’m pissed he’s willing to let a neighbour get into trouble like this, but his inaction tells me something important. He’s scared of these guys.
“I want to talk.” I bat my eyelashes at beefcake number one and then a waft of rotting garbage hits me. I don’t need to pretend to be grossed out by that, so I let my natural reaction play out. “Why are you hanging out in such a stinky street? Haven’t you got anywhere nicer to go?”
“We’re conducting business, sweetheart,” beefcake number one drawls.
“Are you garbagemen?” I giggle and sway on my heels. “Is that why your business is out here?”
“Do we look like garbagemen?” Beefcake number two glares at me. He’s also dark-haired and dark-eyed, but seems cleaner cut. No tatts that I can see.
“She’s a stupid drunk bitch,” Matt says, almost snarling at me. But the action feels a little forced, like he’s trying to draw attention away from me.
Speaking of drawing attention...
I catch sight of Owen rushing up the alley toward me, his face filled with worry. Shit. He’s going to blow everything. I’d hoped to poke around a bit more, see what else came out. I can handle these guys, especially since there are a ton of security cameras focused on the loading bay. They wouldn’t do anything in plain sight, so all I have to do is make sure I don’t stray too far.
“What the fuck?” Beefcake number two swings his head around and jams his hands into his pockets as Owen approaches. “Can I help you, mate?”
His tone has the acid-dripping edge of someone who is definitelynotgreeting a friend. Owen catches the cue and slows, arranging his face into an expression that’s more world-weary than fearful. “Just looking for my wife. She has a tendency to wander off when she’s drunk.”
Beefcake number one raises a brow and looks at me. “This guy’s your husband?”
My mind spins. If I lie now, I might get more information out of these guys, but at what cost? Who knows what they’ll do to Owen. Not to mention that Matt would be curious as hell. I can’t risk it.
“Oh, hey.” I make my voice syrupy sweet as I wriggle out of beefcake number one’s grip. “There you are!”
“Here I am,” he mutters, rolling his eyes. He looks at the three men and shakes his head. “A word of advice—don’t get married.”
I pout and allow him to lead me back down the alley, past the graffiti-covered brick walls and a seemingly endless collection of stinking garbage bins. Eventually, we curve around a corner and find ourselves on Love Street.
“I had that handled,” I say, tugging out of his grip. My drunk act is totally gone now. “I told you to wait inside.”
“While that giant monster tried to drag you into some abandoned corner? There were three of them, Hannah. You’re not invincible.” It’s only now that I notice how absolutely and totally pissed he is. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Owen this mad before.
But he’s not the only one. “You didn’t even give me a chance. How long was I out there? Barely five minutes. Not even. Three minutes.”
I storm over the street, letting my resentment flow freely. It doesn’t matter if people see us fighting, because we can chalk it up to me being an “angry drunk.” Neither one of us says a word until we make it into our apartment. But if Owen thinks I’m going to let him off the hook, then he’s about to have a rude shock.
“You impeded this investigation,” I say as I dump my bag onto the couch and kick off my heels. I’m keeping my voice low, but I can tell he understands how pissed I am. Good. “I could have secured important information.”
“You could have gotten yourself in a whole lot of fucking trouble.” He’s vibrating now. The emotion pours off him like a wave, washing over me and mixing my feelings up. Usually, when someone cuts my grass like that, it’s because there’s doubt over my capability. The force doesn’t have as much misogyny as it used to, but it’s still there.
This, however, is different. Owen seems genuinely worried about my safety. But ultimately, that doesn’t matter. The job comes first.
“I’mthe detective on this investigation.” My voice is low, hard-edged. Soft enough that nobody walking past our apartment would be able to hear, but loud enough that Owen gets the message. “Not you. So that puts me in charge.Icall the shots.”
“I’m not going to sit on my hands while you act like some dumb rookie, Anderson.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “Do you have any idea what could have happened? Do you have any goddamn idea what the world is like out there?”
“Do I have any idea?” I shake my head. “What do you think I do all day? Write reports and apply my lipstick?”
