Page 45 of Things We Hide from the Light

All amusement disappeared the second the door closed across the hall.

“If you came here to continue your interrogation—”

I rested my forearm on her doorframe. “No, ma’am.”

“Don’t you ‘ma’am’ me. This is northern Virginia. Y’all barely say y’all here. You can’t ‘aw shucks’ your way out of this.”

Mrs. Tweedy’s door cracked open behind me.

“I came to apologize,” I said, ignoring the eavesdropping audience.

Lina crossed her arms.

“Not gonna make it easy on me, are you?”

“Why should I?”

I decided to push my luck. I put a hand on her shoulder and gently but firmly backed her inside, then shut the door behind me.

“Sure. Come on in. Make yourself at home,” she said dryly.

It didn’t look as though she’d done much on that front.

The only personal belongings I spotted were a houseplant hanging out in one of the front windows and that box of files on her table.

I backed her up another step and then removed my hand. “Turn down the music. Please,” I added when she shot me eye daggers.

She made me wait long enough that I thought I was going to have to do it myself before she finally walked over to the table and picked up her phone. The music lowered to a dull roar.

It didn’t escape me that she took a detour to put the lid back on the files.

“You ever have a near-death experience?” I asked her.

She went still.

“As a matter of fact, I have,” she said evenly.

“I’m gonna want some answers on that later,” I warned her after a beat. “But for now, I’ll assume that you know better thanmost what it’s like to wake up and realize you’re still here when you almost weren’t.”

She didn’t give me anything other than a level stare from those whiskey-colored eyes.

I blew out a restless breath. “Angel, I almost bled out in a ditch. Most of me is still here, but part of me didn’t make it out. If you’re here because of any part of that, I deserve to know.”

She closed her eyes for a beat, long lashes fringing tan skin.

When she opened her eyes, she held my gaze. “I’m not here for you.”

It rang like the truth.

“Is that all you’re willing to give me?” I pressed.

She pursed her lips. “We’ll see how the apology part of your presentation goes. And it better include an ‘I’m sorry I’m a dumbass and let a U.S. marshal think we’d had sex.’”

“I’m sorry for the interrogation. I don’t have my feet under me, and I’m just doin’ the best I can in a shit situation. It felt like you were hiding something, especially when I saw Pain in My Ass Mustache making a move on you this morning. I’m used to trusting my gut. Still getting used to the fact that I can’t anymore.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why can’t you?”

“Because I walked right on up to that car.”