Close Cover (Masters and Mercenaries #16)(47)

Was he irritated with her or with the situation he found himself in? He needed to go home and his conscience wouldn’t let him. She hated the thought of him leaving, but she wasn’t going to let him resent her. “There’s no problem. You heard Scarsdale. He’s not retrying the case and I don’t think he’s leaving the federal prosecutor’s office any time soon, so everyone is cool. No one wants to take on a case they don’t think they can win. Vallon can go back to scamming everyone around him. I can ease into underemployment and you can go home.”

“It’s that simple, huh?” Remy asked.

“Yes, it’s that simple,” she replied, her heart aching. “You get your wharf tomorrow and we say good-bye. That’s what we agreed on. I’m not your responsibility. We were having fun, that’s all.”

It was a lot more than fun. She was in love with him, but then she’d always known that would happen if she spent more than five minutes with the man. It had been foolish to think because she told herself she could handle a short-term relationship with him that she could actually do it without heartache. He was everything to her. There wasn’t a part of him she didn’t adore. Even his stubborn insistence on fixing this problem for her. It was all a part of the lovely, caring, passionate man he was inside.

Tiffany Lowe walked up, her gaze cautious as she approached the side of the bar. “Hey, I need another whiskey sour. I told my only table that it was last call. We close in ten minutes. He’s almost done with dinner and he’s the last table left. I think we’ll be able to lock up on time.”

That sounded good because this might not be a conversation she wanted to have with Remy in her place of business. She remembered table nine had wanted Jack Daniels in his whiskey sour and poured it out, all the while sensing Remy watching her with his impatient eyes. His fingers tapped along the bar as she handed Tiffany the glass and registered the drink in the system.

Tiffany gave her an encouraging smile as she walked away.

“So you’re having a good time?” Remy simply picked the argument up again as if they hadn’t been interrupted at all. “You call losing your job and potentially being the target of a mob hit fun?”

“No, I didn’t say that,” she replied, wondering what had him so testy tonight. “I said being with you has been fun, but I certainly don’t expect you to change your plans in order for you to solve a mystery. I’m a big girl and I can handle myself.”

He shook his head as if he couldn’t quite believe what she’d said. “You can handle the mob? Will you take two minutes to listen to yourself? Do you have any idea how stupid you sound right now?”

“I’m stupid because I don’t agree with you?” She was rapidly coming to the point where she wouldn’t care that they were hashing things out in public. Why was he talking to her like this? She’d done nothing to deserve it. She’d held up every single end of her bargain.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then maybe you need to say something, Remy, because I don’t understand what’s going on here. I don’t understand why my temporary lover is messing around with something that’s far better left alone. It’s been weeks. I’m fine. I have a job now. No one’s going after Vallon except you. You’re the one who’s going to get me in trouble.”

He stared at her for a moment. “I can’t figure out if you’re honestly this na?ve or if you simply don’t care.”

She resented the implications on both sides. “I do care, but what am I supposed to do if the federal prosecutor won’t do it? What do you want, Remy? You want me to play the vigilante and go to the press with the account numbers I remember? Maia told you they don’t mean much if no one believes I can remember them. They’re to Cayman accounts. They’re only meaningful to the people who own the accounts or if I can corroborate them with the book. Good luck with that. And I’m not na?ve. I know what’s going on and I also know there’s not much I can do. I think you’re paranoid. It is far smarter for whoever Vallon was working with to sit still and be patient. If someone shoots me, the cops will notice.”

“And if the cops are in on it?” Remy asked.

Now he sounded like Bridget. She set her towel down and lowered her voice because it looked like their last customer of the night was heading to the bathroom. He passed behind Remy, whose back was to him. It was likely a good thing because Remy had a hard look in his eyes that might scare off anyone who didn’t know him.

“The cops aren’t in on it,” she said, her voice low as the man in the suit turned toward the bathrooms. “If anything I feel bad for the cop who broke chain of custody. I would have, too, if it had been my kid. I don’t blame anyone. It happened and sometimes the bad guys get away with it. That’s it. You’re the one who’s trying to kick a hornet’s nest but I’m the one who’ll get stung, Remy. Have you thought about that at all?”

“Have you thought at all about the fact that I’m doing this because I don’t want you to get stung? Someone has to. The feds are being useless.” He ran a frustrated hand over his head. “Just trust me. And I meant what I said. I’m not leaving until I know you’re safe.”

She let the words sit between them because they’d been so flavored with anger. Bitterness, like he resented being here a moment more than he absolutely had to.