Page 12 of Deadly Force

This is not a woman I want throwing herself into danger for the sake of a good story.

I swallow hard, pulse thrumming as I try to form a logical reply to Delilah. “I can take a number. Text it through when you have it.”

Still grappling with my reaction to her, I get to my feet, ready to explain the need to dismantle the camera, when Brooke’s lips purse.

“Okay, so... I was thinking... how about you stay in the car?”

I shake my head and push my gun back into place.

Her lip catches her teeth. “Outside the office block?”

I sigh. “Close protection means close.”

She tosses her head and stomps out of the doorway. “I can’t sneak around if you’re with me.”

I follow her out, detouring to check that the windows are closed and locked as I go.

“If we’re going to keep having this conversation, it’s going to get old mighty fast,” I say.

Her brow crinkles into lines. “I agree. So howabout you just pack up and go back to... Hightower HQ.”

Rather than answer her, I step around her and open the front door. “Stay here. I’m going to double-check my car.”

Her mouth drops open, but she stays inside, silently fuming as I step out into the hot Arizona morning.

Scanning my surroundings, I slide my hand into my pocket and depress the remote-activated sensor attached to my Nissan. If anyone tried to open it last night, I’ll know. Not only won’t it start for them, but a device custom-built into the door will deliver two thousand volts of electricity. Not enough to kill, but more than enough to incapacitate long enough for me to ask a few questions. The sensor shows just what I expected. No one came near it. More’s the pity.

I open the door, climb inside, and grimace at the stuffy heat filling the cabin. My Kevlar vest is on the passenger seat. I tug it on and secure it, grateful for the Pathfinder’s roominess.

Once set, I start the engine, adjust the temperature, and jog back to retrieve Brooke.

“Let’s go. Stay two paces back.”

Her eyes go wide. “Excuse me?”

I explain quickly. “If someone takes a shot at you from in front, it’ll go through me. Sit in the back buton the opposite side. Same reason. If someone takes me out, you’ll have the best chance of surviving.”

She sucks in a breath through her teeth, but it has the desired effect. She stops fighting and follows me outside, locking the door behind her and trailing in my wake.

Every second we’re in the open is another second she’s exposed. Even the Pathfinder won’t offer as much protection as I’d like. But it’s not like we can just order up custom-fitted vehicles. As it is, I had to hustle and pull a favor to get this one.

Brooke climbs in the back and sighs as I close the door and buckle my seatbelt.

“This is insane. You’re wearing a tactical vest. I only had my tires slashed.”

I’m not about to argue. No sense wasting my breath. She thinks she’s right. And I know I am. The camera footage is proof. And my instincts—refined by years of training, not emotion—have never steered me wrong.

With that in mind, I keep my eyes on the road—and off Brooke—as I punch in the coordinates on the SATNAV.

As the robotic voice feeds me directions, Brooke groans from the back seat. “That’s the long way. Take a left here, and cut down?—”

I stop her with a raised hand. “This route has the least stoplights.”

“But—”

“No buts. Stoplights are hazards. The fewer hazards, the better.”

Silence. Good. Easier to think if she’s not questioning my every move.