someone to buy my load of garbage.”
“You must have sold it well.”
He shrugged. “Wasn’t that hard. There have been days when I half believed it myself. There’s a fine line between authority and despotism. Gets crossed a little too often for my taste, you know?”
She nodded. “I do, actually. And it’s not always the government.”
“Oh, I know. I’ve seen how Billy Dawson runs the local BRI cell. Tin-pot dictators have nothing on him.”
“Nobody at the Barrowville PD even checked on what you were saying about the conference?” A hint of her previous skepticism seeped into her question.
“Police forces in this neck of the woods have a serious corruption problem. But even if they didn’t, there’s the issue of how these local cops see The Gates.”
“As interlopers?”
“Something like that. See, Quinn has this thing about hiring people who maybe don’t have the best of track records.” He couldn’t keep the wry tone from his voice.
“Does that include you?”
“Maybe. I was a wild kid, and if you were to go by the way I’ve been behaving over the past year or so, you wouldn’t think I’d changed that much.” He’d gotten into his share of bar fights since returning home from overseas. He couldn’t even blame it on booze, since he’d been stone-cold sober every time. Drinking hadn’t done a thing to stem the pain and anger.
Of course, the fights hadn’t done much to make him feel better, either. He’d supposed, at the time, that pure luck had brought Alexander Quinn into Smoky Joe’s Saloon a few months ago in time to stop a brewing fight and hand his business card to Hunter with an offer of a job interview.
Now that he’d worked with Quinn for a while, he realized that the man had probably gone to the bar with the express purpose of recruiting him for The Gates. Quinn didn’t do anything without a plan.
He just wished he knew what Quinn’s plan was at the moment, because sitting around and waiting wasn’t his style. But he’d seen too many missions go belly-up when someone down the chain of command decided to change things on the fly without having all the information.
“What are you thinking?” Susannah asked.
Glancing up, he saw her studying him with eyes too sharp for his liking. The woman was turning out to be nothing like what he’d thought she’d be. He’d figured her for smart, but he hadn’t banked on her being so observant and insightful that he’d feel like a bug she’d pinned under a microscope for further study.
“What makes you think I’m thinking anything?”
She reached up suddenly, her fingertips brushing his forehead. “This little line. It appears when you’re trying to figure things out.”
He tried to relax his face as she dropped her fingers away, but the feel of her cool touch lingered on his brow. “And you know this because we’re such old, close friends.”
“I know this because I pay attention.” She reached out again, this time touching the muscle directly behind his collarbone. “Your trapezius muscle tenses up when you’re worried.”
“Doesn’t everyone’s?” He knew a frontal attack when he saw one. Every instinct told him she was trying to unnerve him with her touch. Maybe that was her way of regaining some sense of control over her life.
Problem was, it was working. Even the slightest flutter of her fingertips against his skin had sent heat rushing south to his groin. If she ever put her mind to seducing him...
She dropped her hand away from his shoulder, and it took an effort not to groan in response. Her gaze sharpened as it met his. “I know a lot about that hotel, Hunter. I know how things work, where things are, who does what. I can help you if you’ll just let me in on what you’re planning.”
He wasn’t much for trusting other people under the best of circumstances, and his current situation certainly didn’t qualify for best of anything. But she had proved to be a lot tougher—and
“You must have sold it well.”
He shrugged. “Wasn’t that hard. There have been days when I half believed it myself. There’s a fine line between authority and despotism. Gets crossed a little too often for my taste, you know?”
She nodded. “I do, actually. And it’s not always the government.”
“Oh, I know. I’ve seen how Billy Dawson runs the local BRI cell. Tin-pot dictators have nothing on him.”
“Nobody at the Barrowville PD even checked on what you were saying about the conference?” A hint of her previous skepticism seeped into her question.
“Police forces in this neck of the woods have a serious corruption problem. But even if they didn’t, there’s the issue of how these local cops see The Gates.”
“As interlopers?”
“Something like that. See, Quinn has this thing about hiring people who maybe don’t have the best of track records.” He couldn’t keep the wry tone from his voice.
“Does that include you?”
“Maybe. I was a wild kid, and if you were to go by the way I’ve been behaving over the past year or so, you wouldn’t think I’d changed that much.” He’d gotten into his share of bar fights since returning home from overseas. He couldn’t even blame it on booze, since he’d been stone-cold sober every time. Drinking hadn’t done a thing to stem the pain and anger.
Of course, the fights hadn’t done much to make him feel better, either. He’d supposed, at the time, that pure luck had brought Alexander Quinn into Smoky Joe’s Saloon a few months ago in time to stop a brewing fight and hand his business card to Hunter with an offer of a job interview.
Now that he’d worked with Quinn for a while, he realized that the man had probably gone to the bar with the express purpose of recruiting him for The Gates. Quinn didn’t do anything without a plan.
He just wished he knew what Quinn’s plan was at the moment, because sitting around and waiting wasn’t his style. But he’d seen too many missions go belly-up when someone down the chain of command decided to change things on the fly without having all the information.
“What are you thinking?” Susannah asked.
Glancing up, he saw her studying him with eyes too sharp for his liking. The woman was turning out to be nothing like what he’d thought she’d be. He’d figured her for smart, but he hadn’t banked on her being so observant and insightful that he’d feel like a bug she’d pinned under a microscope for further study.
“What makes you think I’m thinking anything?”
She reached up suddenly, her fingertips brushing his forehead. “This little line. It appears when you’re trying to figure things out.”
He tried to relax his face as she dropped her fingers away, but the feel of her cool touch lingered on his brow. “And you know this because we’re such old, close friends.”
“I know this because I pay attention.” She reached out again, this time touching the muscle directly behind his collarbone. “Your trapezius muscle tenses up when you’re worried.”
“Doesn’t everyone’s?” He knew a frontal attack when he saw one. Every instinct told him she was trying to unnerve him with her touch. Maybe that was her way of regaining some sense of control over her life.
Problem was, it was working. Even the slightest flutter of her fingertips against his skin had sent heat rushing south to his groin. If she ever put her mind to seducing him...
She dropped her hand away from his shoulder, and it took an effort not to groan in response. Her gaze sharpened as it met his. “I know a lot about that hotel, Hunter. I know how things work, where things are, who does what. I can help you if you’ll just let me in on what you’re planning.”
He wasn’t much for trusting other people under the best of circumstances, and his current situation certainly didn’t qualify for best of anything. But she had proved to be a lot tougher—and
Similar Books
