Page 54 of The Devoted Game

But she knew where the fault lay. That McBride had nailed exactly how shedisappearedmade her want to screw his brains out just to prove him wrong.

She grabbed on to the tiny sliver of calm that tried valiantly to recover from her frequent and explosive emotional outbursts. If this was any indication of how she handled pressure, she was in trouble.

Everything about this case was wrong, including his leaving, but some part of her would be relieved when McBride was on that plane headed back to the Keys. He disturbed her ... shook up her carefully controlled world. Somehow she was defenseless against him. Unlike with Nameless, when the main crux of the battle had been physical, this was completely emotional.

“How about we sit here?” She indicated a table in sight of the main thoroughfare so Pratt could locate them easily.

“Looks the same as all the rest.” He pulled out a chair but waited for her to settle in before taking his seat.

She considered that he had selected the same pair of distressed jeans he had worn on the trip up here, and the same khaki shirt; it made herwonder if that was symbolic ... him going back to the way things were before she intruded in his life.

Probably just the first thing he grabbed when he rolled out of bed.

“Would you like breakfast?” She hated to put him on the plane hungry. “Coffee?”

“Sure.”

One-word answers. He’d certainly had plenty to say a few hours ago.

“So, what’re we eating?” Pratt asked as he sauntered up.

Grace pushed out of her chair. “You guys decide. I’ll be right back.”

She left her purse on the table and walked to the ladies’ room. It wasn’t far. Glancing back, she could still see the table and both men. Pratt had the same orders she did. He could handle babysitting McBride for a few minutes.

The airport was fairly deserted this early on a Sunday morning, so there was no line for a stall. The janitorial staff had apparently just cleaned since the place looked spotless and smelled freshly sanitized.

Vivian took care of business, washed up, and checked her hair. She hadn’t taken time to put it up, and now she wished she had. After a quick finger-combing, she headed for the table. She could use a biscuit with egg. And a massive cup of coffee.

For a moment she was certain her eyes had played a trick on her. Pratt was alone at the table. “Where’s McBride?”

Pratt pointed back the direction from which she had come. “Men’s room. I’m surprised you didn’t pass him.”

“Damn, Pratt. We’re not supposed to let him out of our sight!”

Pratt held up his hands. “I have his cell phone. The man just went to the toilet, Grace. It’s not a big deal.”

But he wasn’t the one who would have to answer to Worth if he was wrong.

She did an about-face and stomped back toward the bathrooms.

“Grace!”

She held a hand up in a stop gesture and kept on going. Jesus. Was everybody around her so incompetent, or was she making a fuss outof nothing? Maybe McBride was right and she didn’t know how to let anyone close ... even her coworkers.Stop it, Vivian Grace. She wasn’t buying into his theories.

Back ramrod straight, she strode right into the men’s room. Flashed a fake smile for the gentleman she encountered drying his hands. Staring at her, he wandered out, obviously confused or startled.

She scanned the stalls. No feet. Her anxiety level pumped up a few more degrees. A toilet flushed. There. She marched up to the door on the other side of the expansive restroom where his sneakered feet and jean-clad legs were visible. She banged on it hard enough to rattle the hinges.

“McBride!”

He yanked the door inward, glared at her. “Is the building on fire?”

She blinked. “No.”

“Then what the hell are you doing in the men’s room? It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

That was it. She went toe-to-toe with him, caused him to stagger back a step. “You have pushed me around for the last time.” She poked him in the chest. “I’ve put up with your lewd comments and your inquisitions, and I’ve had it!”