Page 12 of Lethal Deceit (Hightower Security #2)
Mick
I stare at the wall and give up trying to rationalize how Hightower thinks I’m the best man for this. I’m cold, wet, and want answers. Usually after a rescue, I have time to shower, get changed, and eat—debrief later, maybe log a report. Not stand dripping in the corner of a dim, coral-painted room with floral curtains and a lamp shaped like a flamingo.
I glance at the door and let out a sigh. I’m not risking taking a shower to warm up, so I settle on filling the coffeepot and switching it on to brew. With my eyes on the door in case she enters the living space, I change as quickly as I can and leave my damp clothes hanging over a chair.
I can avoid her for a while, but the nurse was right. I do need to keep a close eye on her.
Blowing out a breath, I grab a complimentary package of chocolate-covered cookies and pour a mug of coffee.
“Either you come in here or I come to you. It’s your choice,”
I call out.
No reply.
I strain to hear any sound of movement. Nothing noticeable.
“This is serious. The next three hours are do or die.”
Movement at the door makes me spin around.
Samantha.
Blond hair starting to dry, hands loose at her sides. Dressed in nothing but a white toweling robe, in stark contrast to her tanned skin.
“Then why bother?” she says.
I blink. The flatness of her tone is almost as worrying as how normal she looks. Like she just took a shower and we’re here together because we want to be.
“You think I risked my life just to kill you?”
She shivers, her eyes lingering on the coffee in my hands, but keeps her distance.
“Isn’t that what you wanted? To see me dead?”
I take a step closer, extending the coffee and the cookies.
“The rescue swimmers’ motto is ‘So others can live.’”
She licks her lips.
“You saved me because of a motto?”
“It’s more than a motto. It’s a belief.”
Her chin lifts, her eyes shifting from the coffee to my face.
“I saw you on TV. You didn’t seem to be too concerned about my life then.”
Tension makes my muscles coil. I give up waiting for her to accept the coffee and cookies and leave them on the coffee table.
“Yeah, well. Wanting someone to die is different than wanting justice.”
She snorts but edges around the coffee table, ignoring the mug and walking to where the pot is. As surreal as this is, it gets even worse when she pours herself a cup and starts to walk in the direction of the bedroom.
“Where are you going?”
Her eyebrow arches.
“You’ve seen me. I’m still breathing. Now you can tell your boss you followed orders.”
“He’s not my boss,”
I say, grinding it out.
Her lips twitch into something way too close to a smile.
“Uh-huh. Sounded like it to me.”
I eye her as she turns on her heel.
“If you go back in there, I’m going to have to come in.”
She freezes and looks over her shoulder at me. Her cheeks flush with annoyance, and her shoulders square.
“What? Were you planning to escape?”
A slight narrowing of her eyes is all I have to go on. “Fine.”
She eases into a chair, tucks her legs under her, and brings her coffee cup to her lips.
Following her example, I reach for mine and watch her closely in case she chokes.
When the first swallow goes down easily with no sign of distress, I grab the cookies and rip them open.
I need to keep her talking, so I ask the question that’s been bugging me ever since I saw her in the water.
“Can you swim?”
Her eyes meet mine. “What?”
I take a sip.
“You can’t have been in the water for more than a few minutes, so why weren’t you swimming toward the jetty?”
She doesn’t answer, but her fingers have tightened around the mug.
“Can you swim?”
I say again.
“Yes, I can swim,”
she snaps. A faint flush appears on her cheeks before she shakes it off.
“Who taught you?”
Her entire demeanor switches. Her posture relaxes, and she bats her eyelashes at me.
“Why were the cops shooting at you?”
I take my time answering. I’ve obviously hit a sore spot.
“I don’t know that they were.”
She presses her lips together.
“Is that why I’m here and not under arrest?”
I’m not going to give her any more information than I need to.
“You’re here because I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
She swallows.
“If I’d been arrested, I’d get to make a phone call.”
I choke on a laugh.
“Go ahead. I’d love to see who’d come to get you. Your terrorist friends maybe?”
Her eyes flash with anger.
“I am not friends with any terrorists.”
“You’re a liar,”
I growl. My fist clenches, and she notices it immediately.
Her back straightens, and she slowly puts the coffee mug down, her eyes cast downward.
“It’s the truth. But I guess that’s not important to you.”
I laugh too harshly.
“Do you even know you’re lying?”
“I’m not lying.”
“Define a lie.”
Her mouth parts, and she chews on her bottom lip before replying.
“Something said or done in order to deceive someone or make them believe something that isn’t true.”
I lean forward so she knows I’m serious.
“You can’t even look me in the eye.”
She throws her head back and laughs.
“That’s a myth. Liars make more eye contact.”
“I don’t believe you.”
She shrugs.
“I don’t care.”
I pick up my coffee, more to give my hands something to do than out of desire to drink it.
“Show me. Tell me something that can’t possibly be true.”
Her lips quirk, and she keeps her eyes locked on me, never moving.
“I’ve never had a cup of coffee before.”
Smiling, she returns her attention to her coffee, leaving me flummoxed by her behavior.