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“What?” I asked, my pulse hammering in my wrist and throat, not used to being caught so off-guard. My hand was still holding the knife I’d pulled out of my cup holder.
A’s gaze cut there for a brief second, unbothered, before it was looking back out of the windshield.
“See… I got this strange feelin’,” he started again. “That you’ve been lying to me.”
Shit.
CHAPTER FIVE
A
You don’t get as far as I got in life by being blind to the shit that was going on around you. Especially when that shit involved your work.
So, yeah, I’d clocked the guys from the private investigator place. Sitting in their cars. Watching shit. Following people.
I had to give them some credit. They were decent at their jobs. If I wasn’t looking for them, and I didn’t know who they were, I probably wouldn’t have noticed them. Different cars. Different clothes.
The thing was, it was the men.
Didn’t see Hope not once.
It didn’t take a genius to realize what was going on.
They’d gotten her to agree to the job, then took it away from her without telling me.
Had no fucking idea what their issue was with her, but I didn’t appreciate being out of the loop. Or being lied to.
So when I just so happened to be meeting some of my boys at the bar and clocked her sitting in her car down the street.
Again, I’d have missed her if I wasn’t looking for her boys.
She was as good as they were.
Better.
‘Cause no one had reason to suspect women in their cars. Men lurking around could be suspicious. Not so much women.
Could be waiting to meet up with their girls. Or getting a couple minutes away from their kids.
All sorts of shit.
No one would look twice, less they were checking her out.
Her hand was on that knife before my ass was even on the seat.
Had to admit that shit was kind of hot.
She looked less run-down than she had the last time I’d seen her. There weren’t dark circles under her eyes or puffy lids.
“How could I be lying to you when I haven’t spoken to you?” she shot back after a beat.
“You’re smart, mama, I’ll give you that. Avoid lying to me more by sidestepping the question.”
“Get out of my car, A,” Hope demanded. “I’m working.”
“See… I don’t think you are.”
“Me, car, binoculars, notebook,” she said, gesturing around to each thing as she said it. “Working,” she added, exhaling hard.
“It’s seven,” I said.
“No shit,” she shot back.
“Nah, what I’m saying is… it’s seven. And you walked your pretty ass out of that office at ten after five, looking like you were done for the day.”
“Well, I wasn’t,” she said, gaze out the windshield.
“Lemme try this again,” I said. “You getting paid to sit your ass in this car and watch my men? Or are those asshole boys of yours trying to bullshit me? ‘Cause I don’t like being lied to, mama.”
“They’re not my boys,” she said, jaw tight.
“Answer me, darlin’,” I demanded, watching as her head snapped over, her gaze wide. And was that just a small spark of something in those dark blue eyes, or was that my imagination? It was gone too quick to tell.
“What was the question again?” she stalled.
“Did those dickheads you work with take you off my case?” I asked. Then, sensing her ability to weasel out of it again, I added, “In any official capacity.”
“They’re the senior members of the team,” Hope insisted.
“Not what I asked.”
“They don’t trust me,” she admitted, tone devoid of any vulnerability. But, I thought, only because she had a lot of time to work on masking it. There was no way that shit wasn’t a bloody, festering wound. Especially for a woman with as much pride as she had.
“They got a reason for that?”
“No,” she said. “Not anymore,” she added, voice lower. “But they don’t give a shit how hard I work, how much better than them I am. They saw you walk in, had dollar signs in their eyes, and wanted to be in control of raking in that money.”
“Then the fuck you out here for, mama?” I asked, shrugging.
“They’re good. But…”
“But they ain’t you,” I concluded.
“Something like that,” she agreed.
“And something else too?” I asked, sensing it hanging in the air.
“I don’t like lying. This way, I’m still on the case. I’m not lying.”
“So you’re working overtime for free just so you ain’t lying to me.”
“Something like that, I guess. Don’t,” she said, her gaze on my profile.
“Don’t what?” I asked.
“Do what you’re thinking about doing,” she said.
“And what am I thinking of doing?”
“Nothing good, judging by the way that muscle is ticking in your jaw,” she said.
“I’m not planning on killing ‘em if that is what you’re worried about.”
“Ah, yeah, I hope not,” she said, rolling her eyes. “That wasn’t what I meant, though.”
