Jordan Summers - [Dead World 01] by Red (html)

she said, debating whether to leave now or once the food arrived.
Her stomach growled, deciding for her. Red didn't like being on the receiving
end of questions, even when they were couched in politeness.
    Morgan brushed at invisible crumbs with the back of
his hand. "Just making small talk."
    "Sure, whatever you say." She sat back.
    "How about we start this
conversation over?" Mor gan
suggested.
    "Why, when it's going so well?"
    He chuckled. "Have it your way. I believe you
were about to tell me how long you've been on the team."
    "You've read my file. How long did it say?"
she volleyed back.
    "Files rarely tell the whole story. I'd rather
hear it from you, if it's all the same."
    Red snorted. "Wow, that's a new one."
    "What is?"
    "Someone actually taking the time to ask me about
my job."
    Morgan frowned. "Why is that surprising?"
    She shrugged. "I just didn't expect it."
    "There still aren't many women on the team, are
there?" he asked.
    "It is what it is. I'm used to it by now."
Red reached for her canteen. He was too perceptive for his own good.
    Morgan quirked a brow. "If you say so."

Her gaze leveled on him. "I do."
    "Fine." He reached for the lid of his
canteen and slowly unscrewed it, but didn't drink. "Truth is I didn't want
to know about your job. I wanted to find out about you."'
    "I thought this was a working dinner." Red
said.
    '"You said that, not
me."
    Her eyes widened in surprise before she could school
her features. Red hadn't expected that kind of candor. She shifted
uncomfortably as if her seat had suddenly grown lumps: no one had ever been
inter ested enough to ask about her, not
even the men she'd joined with.
    "I've been with the team for ten years. What else
would you like to know?" she asked, surprising herself and Morgan, if the
startled expression on his face was any indication.
    "You can start by telling me why they call you Red. It can't be because of your
dark features or your hair, since it's black." He sat back, his large
frame relaxing into the chair.
    "No, it's not due to my appearance." Her
stomach dropped and her face blanked. "You know why. It's all in the
file."
    "Actually, that part's a
little vague. I can guess, but I'd rather
you tell me."
    "Sure you want to know before the food arrives?
Might ruin your appetite."
    "I have a pretty strong stomach, so I'll chance
it."
    "Suit yourself." She projected bravado that
she didn't feel. "I tend to spill a
lot of blood when I go af ter an
unknown. Very few surrender. I don't set out to kill anyone. It just happens. I guess I don't
appreciate being fired upon."
    "You don't miss." It wasn't a question.
    "Never. My grandfather says I'm like a modern-day
Annie Oakley, whoever that is."
    Morgan sat forward. "Where's your backup when all
this is happening?"
    Red snorted. "What backup?"
    "I see." His jaw tightened.
    "Actually, I doubt you do."
    "You're probably right. What does a boundary town
sheriff know about violence and unknowns?" he asked flippantly.
    Red's stomach clenched. She hadn't meant to sell Morgan short. Sheriffs like him were the front
line of defense against the unknowns. She knew that better than most, since his work aided hers.
"Sorry," she said.
    "You should be."
    They sat in silence for a few minutes, neither willing
to be the first to yield. Finally Red gave in. She  wouldn't garner Morgan's
cooperation if she continued to piss him off. Time to do a little male ego re pair.
    "How did you get into law enforcement?" she
asked, changing the subject.
    "I guess you could say it's in my blood," he said, casually as he glanced around
the room, taking in the other patrons. Red followed his perusal. Several peo ple
looked away as Morgan made eye contact.
    The first time she witnessed this she'd chalked it up to control, but now Red wasn't so sure. There
was something weird happening here that went beyond respect for local
law enforcement.
    Morgan slowly turned back to her. "Is anything
wrong?" he asked.
    "Do you always get this kind of