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“Borrow, as in pretending it’s yours?”

I’m not dumb enough to answer that.

He scratches his chin. “Did you kill the middleman?”

I shake my head. “Why would I? He’s just as guilty as I am.”

His face hardens. “Did you know what they were planning?”

“No!”

He narrows his eyes, doubt so easily readable on his face. “How much did they pay you?”

Oh no. I hastily scramble for something that will occupy his mind. “Are you in the habit of having casual flings with women you meet in airport bars?”

Mick’s face blanches. His mouth opens and closes as if he has no response that will justify the part he played.

I lean forward. “Not so innocent then, are you?”

His jaw works hard. “It was a lapse of judgment.”

I huff out a laugh. “Yeah, well. So was mine.”

Thick tension fills the room. He’s mulling it over. Trying to find a way to blame me when he can’t. I didn’t force him to leave with me. I didn’t hold a gun to his head. Whether he wants to admit it, he was motivated purely by his own desires.

Not exactly something to be boasting about.

The look on his face is so perplexed that I can’t resist the jab. “Truth hurts, doesn’t it?”

He rolls his shoulders back, his eyes flashing with anger, but his silence is so satisfying that it’s hard not to smirk at him.

Mick

I’m not about to be lectured to by a criminal. Even if she does have a point.

I shouldn’t have gone with her. I knew better, but my attraction to her overrode my common sense.

“Don’t you have a conscience?” I ask.

She waves a hand through the air, cutting off my question. “Don’t you have any morals?”

The answer’s out before I can stop it. “I was raised a Christian.”

She barks out a bitter laugh. “So what? You don’t even live like it. Hypocrite. You’ve got no right to judge me.”

The word stings more than I want to admit. I don’t flinch, but I feel it.

She leans in, eyes hard. “You’re just like all the others. Holier-than-thou on Sunday, and hanging out with women like me the rest of the week.”

I clench my jaw. “Is that what this is now? You flipping it on me?”

She shrugs. “I’m just saying, don’t sit there acting like you’re better than me. You’re not.”

“What do you want? An apology?”

She gives a half-smile. “I don’t want anything. But if you really believed God was watching, you never would’ve even thought about sleeping with me.”

That lands like a punch to the gut—and this time, I do flinch.