Page 46 of These White Lies

His jaw hardens, and the hand on my back firms. “I’m going to find out who is behind this.”

I hear the promise in his voice and desperately want to believe him, but right now it seems impossible.

How do I fight an enemy if I don’t know who they are or what they want?

“Who else stays here?” I ask, lifting my eyes to the door high above.

“No one at the moment,” Brady responds, allowing me to steer the conversation onto more neutral ground. “It’s available to whoever needs it.”

My eyes scan the room again, taking in the details before returning to him. “You aren’t a run-of-the-mill security firm, are you?”

He grins and winks, and I swear he knows what it does to my knees. “Nope. We’re a little more specialized these days.”

“That’s it? You aren’t going to tell me anything else?” My lips curve in response to his devilish smile.

“Nope.”

“You are an infuriating man. You know that, right, Brady Worthington?”

“Back atcha, Firefly.”

My mood instantly sours. “Stop calling me that.”

“But I have such fond memories of that little bug.” He leans close to my ear, his breath fanning the delicate shell and sending goosebumps over my body. “And how hot, she burned beneath my tongue.”

My mouth falls open. I want to be angry, but the feelings flooding my body make it clear I’m anything but offended.

It’s interested. Way, way too interested.

I quickly step away from him to create some distance and instantly regret the move when a sharp sting stabs at my side.

Brady’s smirk falls from his face, his brows knitting together. His eyes search mine, as if he’s trying to gauge just how much pain I’m in.

“Hey,” he coaxes. One palm lifts in apology, but he doesn’t touch me. His hand hovers in the air between us. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

The muscle in his jaw ticks, and his lips pinch, but after a beat he simply says, “Let me know if we need to take you back to the hospital.”

His voice is detached and professional. I should be grateful he’s not being flirtatious anymore, making me want things I shouldn’t. But I’m not.

Make up your mind, Elizabeth.

We move past a short hallway on the main level, lined with unmarked doors. Brady gestures at them, labelling them, “storage” and “bathroom,” but when he says “armory,” my steps falter.

Armory?What exactly do he and his team do?

I search my brain for every tidbit I’ve ever heard from Luke about Brady. All Dahlia’s husband has ever said is that his old friend used to be a police officer and now runs a private investigative and security firm.

This looks like… more.

Brady’s hand finds my arm instantly, misinterpreting my misstep. “You should sit down.”

“I’m fine.”

The muscle in his jaw is fluttering wildly now. “Just a suggestion.”

“If it gets worse, I’ll take the meds the doctor gave me.” I give him a half-smile, hoping it will ease the weird tension that has popped up between us.