Page 113 of Deadly Force

“You gonna take it?”

“I need to pray about it. I don’t want to rush into anything. I was thinking freelance, but I’m not sure if that’s feasible. What with the cops and Lawrence and everything.”

I angle my neck and lower my voice. “Thought you said no one from the paper was giving you a hard time?”

She shrugs. “They might lose their jobs. They’re looking for someone to blame.”

Rather than fume that she’s not being supported, I order a coffee, and we sit in silence in the rush of the late morning crowd, the world moving around us like nothing’s changed.

Just as the crowd starts to thin out, her phone buzzes on the table.

She winces when she sees the name. “Larry. He’s called three times since he saw the news about Lawrence.”

“Casino Larry?”

She nods. “He says he has evidence, but we need to go to Vegas to check it out.”

“We?”

She waggles her head. “He wants to prove you wrong. And he thinks we’re a team. Like Lois and Clark.”

I chuckle, and instantly regret it as pain cuts through my chest. “More like Gonzo and Rowlf the Dog.”

Brooke bursts out laughing. “Unfair. You’re more like a cross between Rowlf and Sam the Eagle.”

Not the worst insult I’ve ever gotten. Not the worst compliment, either.

“Please tell me you’re not seriously considering going.”

She chews her lip, then nudges my shouldergently. “They say road trips are the best way to get to know someone.”

I huff a short breath. "So's combat. Lot more screaming, lot less snacks."

Her nose wrinkles. "Guess we’ll see which one this turns into."

I chuckle. “If you want a road trip, I’ve got a better idea.”

“Oh?”

I lean in, mouth brushing her ear, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. “How about we drive to my folks in Indiana, and I’ll give you the scoop on when Luke got shot by a hairdresser.”

Her eyes widen. “I thought you weren’t allowed to discuss Hightower ops?”

Yeah, I’m not. But some people are worth breaking the rules for. And Luke won’t mind. He owes me.

“I think I can bend the rules... long as you agree to be my wife.”

She blinks rapidly, like her brain’s buffering. Color floods her cheeks. “You didnotjust propose to me in a coffee shop.”

“No. I didn’t. This was a warning. You come on this road trip, I’ll ask you properly.”

She narrows her eyes, but she’s fighting a smile. “I won’t allow guns, alcohol or sketchy people in the house, Caleb Evans. And I’m not listening to OutlawCountry in the car. I’ve heard enough over the last few weeks. That’s non-negotiable.”

I grin and lean closer to kiss her again. “Guns will be negotiable when you see the size of the ring I just bought you," I say.

She crosses her arms, trying for a poker face, but the twitch of a smile and a not-so-subtle glance at my pocket give her away.

“Does that mean you’re open to telling me more about what you do for Hightower?”