Page 33 of Rogue's Path

“Interesting.”

“That’s a no,” he says.

“Do I seem like the type to want to be anywhere near where bullets might be flying around? Plus, my job pays extremely well.” Though it feels almost as safe as if bullets were involved right now. The stalker needs to get bored soon.

“You didn’t seem traumatized by the bar fight you were in last night.”

Technically, it was this morning. “I wasn’t.”

“Then you’d do just fine. Not that I put people without combat experience anywhere near where shots could be fired.Your detail orientated observation style would be an asset both in and outside of fieldwork.”

Never…literally never, has any other profession found my quirky nosiness to be an asset. Writing wasn’t my first pick, but it fits me so well. Most get irritated with me within five minutes. “I can’t turn it off. This is always who I am. I won’t just do it at work. It’ll be everywhere and everything. Since we met, I’ve planned a dozen ways for you to kill someone and probably twice as many ways for you to save the day.”

“So, you’re an author.” Taylor sure doesn’t sound like he’s asking.

“Yeah.”

“How long have you been writing?”

From the beginning of time sounds too silly. “As long as I can remember in one way, shape, or form. At first, it was little stories in school.” Most of them involved death and dying, but he doesn’t need to know that. “Then, it was in a journal.” When my therapist said it would be good for me. Then, after a million failed job attempts. “Finally, I tried writing a book after a friend suggested it. She heard about this indie author movement. How authors didn’t have to wait for publishers to decide that their book, out of thousands of other wonderful books, fit in with their ideals. The gatekeepers were gone.”

“And you wrote a bestseller.”

I snort and laugh at the same time. “Not even close. My first book made enough to pay for me to edit the next book. But let's not talk about me. Tell me something about yourself. How did you get into security work?”

“My father. He started out in the military. Then started his own…security team.”

That’s not completely true. “There’s more to it than that.”

Taylor grins. “T&T Securities has always done more than protect rich people.”

“He was a mercenary. And you took over for him after you got out of the military.”

“Close. I wanted to be him, but there was no way he was going to be my boss. When I got out, I started my own team. We were never interested in going back to the pits of third-world countries. Our first real gig was protecting a women's shelter. Then we added on some corporate and protecting one family.”

So he stops corporate espionage. “Where did you go from there?”

“Nowhere. My company does exactly what it’s supposed to. It provides well-paying jobs for ex-military. The jobs are interesting enough to keep them engaged and safe enough that if they want to, they can have a life outside of work.”

‘They’ can have a life outside. “But you can’t.”

“I don’t want one.”

Not I didn’t want one. Any woman’s first impulse would be to ask why they’re here then. “What—” My phone rings. I pull it out of my purse to see Cordelia’s name flash on the screen. Is she alright? “Excuse me one second. I need to take this.” I start to get up and am reminded of the fact that I’m currently tethered to the table.

Oh well. It’s not like we’re discussing state secrets. “Hey Cordelia,” I whisper. “How is your head?”

“Throbbing. I haven’t been this drunk since the girls and I went on a road trip.”

That I can believe.

“Do you wanna meet up? There’s a little coffee shop near where I live. It’ll change your world.”

Do I? Cordelia seemed incredibly nice. And it isn’t like I’m overflowing with friends. “Sure. When were you thinking?”

“How about two hours?”

I glance over at Taylor. For a first date, this went well, and I could see us chatting for hours, but I also can’t see us beingmuch more than friends. “Send me the address. I’ll message you if I need more time.”