Up in Smoke (Crossing the Line, #2)(32)

“Damn straight it wasn’t my shift. That shit wouldn’t have happened on my watch, baby.”

Her breath caught. “Oh, mister. Tell me all about it.”





Chapter Eleven


Connor mentally played back the interview with May’s cell mate in his head. A distraction to keep his mind off Erin. Technically, she wasn’t even late yet, but that didn’t seem to matter. After the way they’d left things this morning, he’d needed time with her and hadn’t gotten it. He wanted it now. Layered over that pressing desire was the need to know where the hell she’d gone. Erin might hold back about her past, but she was blunt and honest in every other respect. The fact that she hadn’t told him where she was going, had actually looked prematurely guilty, cloaked him in anxiety.

Letting her pull these disappearing acts whenever the conversation got tough was going to be goddamn difficult. She’d been right that morning. He was the type who needed organization, structure. It’s why he’d excelled with the SEALs—until he’d gone and f*cked it all up. He wanted to fight off her demons while keeping his own at bay, but how could he do it when she kept running away?

Think about the interview. She’ll be here.

It had been like riding a bike. Even if May’s cell mate hadn’t been entirely helpful, the simple act of questioning someone was familiar. A ritual that had brought him back to his time overseas. His training. To when he’d been a valued member of a group. Until the day he’d made a massive error in judgment, he’d been on his way to a respectable career. Instead, he’d landed back in his hometown with dishonor on his back. Dishonor he’d only increased exponentially.

Today felt like the first time he might be able to get back some of his honor. But he needed to be cautious. Needed to keep his head. For so long he’d been existing one minute to the next. Living in Brooklyn, making an illegal living so he could support his mother and her medical bills. One split-second decision—a momentary loss of control—had landed him there. He’d numbed himself as a way to cope, but as Erin’s presence thawed him, he found those skeletons wouldn’t be ignored. It had been a long time coming, but now he had to face them head-on. Find out their names and extract them, knowing he’d be stronger on the other side. Strong for her.

He heard the jingling of bells and felt a rush of relief. It was short-lived, though, because she was running her hands up and down the sides of her jeans, murmuring under her breath as she came toward him. Her fingers were black with soot, telling him she’d been lighting matches, letting them burn. She looked jumpy, and he didn’t like it. He opened his mouth to request an explanation, but she spoke first. “I was thinking Chinese for dinner tonight. Any objections?”

She’s trying to distract me. Why? “How’d you do?”

“You first.”

Irritation zigzagged through his sternum. Patience. “May’s cell mate didn’t have much to say, the bottom line being May didn’t act or do anything out of the ordinary leading up to his escape.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Something was definitely off, though. His answers felt rehearsed. I didn’t have enough time.”

She took a step toward him, bringing their bodies close, and loosed a little sigh of pleasure. Was she cold? The idea bothered him, especially considering he couldn’t warm her in his arms. “And there wasn’t much you could do on the other side of the glass, right?”

Connor couldn’t deny that he’d had the same thought. His interrogation style had transformed greatly during his time in Brooklyn. While he hated the memories that fact conjured, he liked not having to pretend with her. Pretend he wasn’t a man who’d seen and done bad things. A sudden vision assailed Connor. Him. Tying Erin up and demanding she answer his questions. Her arms were suspended above her head, body stripped of clothing, writhing as she tried to get free. The blood in his head rushed south, obviously taking his ability to reason along with it. Dammit, he couldn’t play those types of games with her. She wasn’t able, and it was selfish and inexcusable of him to want them.

He came back to himself with a jolt, realizing he’d been staring at Erin’s mouth. Unbelievably, she didn’t look unaffected, lips parted to receive her dragged-in breaths. Had she read his mind?

A low sound tripped out of him. “What’s happening inside that head?”

She fell back a step, giving a tiny headshake and breaking their spell. Before he could press for an answer, she skirted past him. “The bus stop is this way.”

He ate up the sidewalk separating them in two strides to walk beside her. “My car is parked in the garage around the corner.” When her step faltered, he cursed his own lack of foresight. “Are you all right to drive inside a car?”

“Yeah.” Soulful blue eyes flashed up at him. “No seat belt, though.” Connor didn’t like the idea of her in a moving vehicle without being strapped in. Not at all. He started to object, to say they would take the bus instead, but she cut him off. “So the cell mate’s answers sounded rehearsed. Do you think Stark got to him?”

This constant avoidance wasn’t working for him, but he sensed if he made an issue of the small stuff, he’d never get to the bigger ones beneath the surface. With a sigh, he followed her lead and changed the subject. “The prison manifest doesn’t show any visits from Stark or any of his closest aides. If he got to May, he was careful.”