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“Fine.”
“Yeah, totally looked like it.”
“Back off,” he snarled and immediately hated himself. “Sorry. I flipped. I just… lost it.” No reason to go into why, though his motives were clear.
“Yeah, you did.”
They were three driveways from the safe house. “I need a minute. Keep going. I’ll kill that dude if I see him right now.” He saw the red welted handprints around her neck. “Fuck that. Turn around. I’m going to kill him.”
“Cash.”
“Turn around. No, I’ll get out.”
“Cash.
“Pull—”
“Cash, look at me!”
The welts on her neck hurt him. Damn, he couldn’t breathe. He needed to catch his breath.
She pulled her shirt up, unsuccessful in her attempt to cover the red marks. “I’m fine. Promise.”
Bullshit. She was hurt. Dude left marks on her. “You’re not—”
She slapped the center console. “Yes, I am. I’ve got a problem, and you killing him isn’t going to help.”
“He attacked you.”
“You don’t know that.”
He turned in his seat to glare at her. “What?”
“I’ve got a problem, and I don’t know who I can trust other than Roman, who’s seeing me as his kid sister. I want to trust you, Cash.”
“You can trust me.”
“Can I?”
Good question. He’d about murdered a man in the middle of the street for the operative equivalent of picking on an ex-girlfriend. He was a flippin’ loose bazooka. “I’m sorry about saying all that to Roman last night.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.”
“I know.”
“I’m in it, earrings deep. I need to talk this out.”
He took a breath and ran a hand around the nape of his neck. “’Kay. You keep driving, and I’ll shut my trap.”At least I’ll try.
“The man you just beat within a hair of his life was the butler at Smooth’s estate. After you bagged and tagged Antilla, he found me, said he had extraction instructions that superseded my handler’s. But he turned me over to the men I avoided with my flying window trick. My handler made arrangements for me this morning. Voila! Hello, butler.”
“So you’re thinking… ”
“He’s doing double duty.”
“He’s CIA, and he’s… on the clock for Smooth?”
“Maybe.” She shrugged.