Raw Redemption (Crossing the Line #4)(14)

He winced in the process of picking up his fork. “Don’t call yourself that.”

“Lighten up, Growler.”

“Jesus, here we go.” Henrik took a bite of pancakes and Ailish became a little mesmerized by the chewing movements of his mouth. The way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. “Ailish. Tell me the truth now.”

She shook herself. “Huh?”

“The truth. Why did the man let you leave? If he’d taken you home with an injury, he would have gotten a pass for taking down the man who delivered it.”

“You don’t know that.”

Henrik took another bite while considering her. “I’m not going to let it go.”

Ailish stabbed her fork into her French toast, cut off a bite and put it into her mouth before she could say something mean. Like what a lousy breakfast date he was turning out to be. Henrik seemed to read the sentiment in her eyes, however, because he let loose one of those category ten sighs that she felt all the way across the table. “Okay, my turn. What does your squad want from me?”

“Specifically?” He watched her like a hunter watches a deer in the woods. “Information about the Bookie Cookie.”

Ailish choked on a bite of eggs, but held up a hand when Henrik all but dived out of the booth to reach her. “I’m fine. I just…” She accepted the orange juice he offered and took a long pull. “I know Chicago PD was interested, but I didn’t realize she was on your radar.”

Henrik sat back down, looking slightly green. “You know who she is?”

Tread lightly, girl. “I’ve heard my father speak about her.” She thought of the grueling hours she’d spent in the interrogation chair. I can’t go back there. And it was entirely possible Henrik wanted to put her right back in that situation, despite his assurances to the contrary. “I was transporting money for the Bookie Cookie when I was arrested, but my father has always been the middleman. I couldn’t help the police then, and I can’t help you now.”

“If you were to go home…” Henrik broke off, appearing to gather himself, before starting again. “If you were to go back to your father’s house, would you be in a position to aid the investigation?”

Her skin felt too tight. “Why are you talking like a robot?”

“I have a job to perform,” he enunciated. “But I don’t have to like it.”

Ailish could barely process that explanation, assaulted as she was by visions of men stripping out of bloody clothing in her home’s foyer. Being told to remain in her room for the evening while meetings took place downstairs. Meetings that her solid wood bedroom door didn’t always muffle completely. “I don’t have to like it, either.”

“Ailish—”

A man stopped alongside their booth, interrupting the stare-down between her and Henrik. The newcomer held out a newspaper to Henrik, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he’d intruded on a tense moment. “You interested in the sports page? Thought I’d offer instead of throwing it out.”

Jaw flexing, Henrik took the paper with a nod. “Thank you.”

Little multicolored pieces trickled in from her memory bank, forming a bigger picture in her conscious. Henrik holding a newspaper…those hands, loosely gripping the sides…surrounded by green. That couldn’t be right. Could it? Ailish focused on his hands and let the image spread out farther. Henrik in navy blue. A color he hadn’t worn since arriving last night.

“I remember where I saw you before. I remember.” She was frozen in her seat, a chill settling over her skin. “In the park. You were reading the newspaper.” Her fingers rose to massage the hollow of her neck. “You were wearing a badge and a uniform. Standing right next to a police car.”

He stayed very still. “Ailish—”

“What is this? Are you cop or not?” Reminding herself she hadn’t told him anything that could implicate her in a crime, she tried to remain calm. But she couldn’t deny feeling hurt, which was silly. She’d only known him for a matter of hours. Her lack of experience with making acquaintances gave her an unbalanced perspective on what was normal. That was all. This man could very well be there to dupe her into confessing things that could put her away for a long time.

“Please stop looking at me like that.”

She threw her paper napkin down on the table. “Like what? Like you’re kind of maybe a liar?”

He shook his head. “God, you can’t even insult me properly. How did you stay so goddamn sweet in this world, Ailish?” Apparently he didn’t expect her to answer—not that she could while processing what he’d said—because he plowed on. “Stop looking at me like you’re just seeing me for the first time.”

“That’s how it feels.”

He visibly centered himself. “When you saw me in the park, I was still a cop. I am not a cop now. The department took my badge.”

Huh. She hadn’t been expecting that, but her paranoia still didn’t quite allow her to believe him. “Why?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

Ailish started to slide out of the booth. “I’m leaving.”

Henrik had a good head on his shoulders, because he didn’t try to argue with her. He removed his wallet, tossed a handful of bills onto the table, and trailed after her as she sailed through the diner. They didn’t speak again until they were outside in the parking lot, giving her time to think. To formulate a plan. Her father would have called what just happened a game changer. When a man lied to you once, he would do it again without fail. Caine might have taught her a lot of skewed philosophies, but that wasn’t one of them.