Lies(29)

“Betty, I know you’re not stupid. But these people are dangerous.”

“Everything right now is dangerous,” I say. The man is seriously unhappy. I almost feel bad for him since he’s only trying to protect me. When he holds out a hand, I pass him the cell without further comment.

For the longest moment, he says nothing. “You’re right. I need to find out what’s going on with the bosses, learn what they know.”

I nod.

“Sorry. I’m not used to sharing this sort of stuff with anyone. Even with Bear and Fox, it’s a need-to-know policy.”

“You didn’t share it with me. I guessed.” I turn to watch the pedestrians out braving the bad weather. “Why did you crush your cell before we left California? Why not just kill the SIM like you usually do?”

“Someone could have been tracking us through a program loaded onto the cell. It’s not easy to do and they probably would’ve had to physically access the phone sometime in the past to do it. So we ditched it. Wasn’t worth the risk.”

Outside, the traffic thickens as we draw closer to the city. The daylight turns into little more than haze this late in the afternoon, streetlights glowing in the wet conditions. We circle a block twice before finding a place to park. Thank goodness for the thick coat and leather gloves. As awesome as it is, a designer handbag is no defense against the cold.

Thom leads me over to the sidewalk, keeping his body between mine and the street. Constantly surveying the area, we head toward an old brick building three stories high. Nothing fancy or anything, though it does seem clean and well-maintained. The elevator smells vaguely of Thai food and makes a few suspicious mechanical-type groaning noises as we ride up.

He stops at a door on the top floor in the corner position, unlocks it, and turns off the alarm. “In you go.”

“Does this place belong to you or the zoo?”

“Me. Wait here a moment, please.” He ducks his head into several small rooms, scanning them quickly. “We’re fine. Come on through.”

An exposed brick wall runs the length of the loft-type space. First I see a small walk-in closet, a small, clean white bathroom, followed by the main open area. There’s a clean white kitchen, a large bed made up with sheets and blankets, a wooden table with two stools by the window, and a two-seater sofa and TV hanging on the wall.

“Cozy,” I say, hanging my coat over the back of a chair. I place my handbag and gloves on top of the table. It seems wrong to invade the space with stuff, given the perfect minimal look of the place, but that’s life. The apartment has a lot in common with the ranch safe house back in California. No pictures. No personal belongings. At least, none I can see.

Thom just shrugs. “Not somewhere I spend much time.”

“Where do you spend your time?”

“When I’m not working, I’m home with you.” He empties his pockets onto the table. The car fob, the new cell, his gun and spare magazine…you know, the usual. “Guess we’re going to need a new place to live.”

No comment from me.

“I’ve got a few properties around L.A. you can take a look at. See which one you like best. Or we can get something new, though I’d prefer to avoid any large financial transfers if possible. Makes it harder to stay off people’s radars.”

“How many places do you own exactly, and what is your bank account balance?”

“My job pays okay.” He cracks his neck. “And in this line of work, it’s wise to have a few safe houses.”

“In case your cover gets blown.”

“That’s right. I stop by each of them now and then, collect any mail and check on security. Make sure nothing has been tampered with and see to any basic maintenance.”

“Your world is interesting, I’ll give it that.” I rub at the back of my own neck, trying to relieve the bunched-up muscles. Stress always winds me up tight. And I don’t think I’ve ever been as stressed as I am these days. Even being a florist on Valentine’s or Mother’s Day has nothing on running for your life. On being hunted.

“Let me,” says Thom, standing in front of me. Much closer than necessary.

“You don’t need to—”

“I know I don’t need to. But I want to.” Strong fingers dig into my sore muscles, turning me into mush. Then he makes a disgruntled noise and undoes the buttons on the front of my suit jacket. His hands are sure, certain of my submission. His warm palms skim over the knit shirt, slide the jacket off my shoulders and down my arms before placing it on the table. My gun and holster are next and Thom does not look sorry to see them gone. “That’s better.”

I’m not so sure. The sensible part of my brain suggests I need all the armor I can get when it comes to this man. Though it feels good, the kneading pressure of his hands. It also feels a whole lot like seduction.

Warning bells once again ring inside my head. “What are you doing?”

“Working on the knots in your neck. What are you doing besides overthinking everything?”

“You’d like it if I just stopped using my brain and didn’t ask questions, wouldn’t you?”

The edge of his lips quirk up. “Now that you mention it, it would make things simpler.”

“Ha. Keep dreaming. Speaking of overthinking things, how are you going to get the bosses to help you?”