sort out the repercussions, do the time . . . start over.
Whatever he’d done could be redressed.
Society could forgive.
People could move on.
Unless, of course, they were stubborn assholes determined to flout the rules and go it alone.
She picked up a final egg and slammed it against the bowl’s rim, shattering the shell. “Ah, hell’s bells.”
Isaac’s eyes lifted. “It’s okay. I don’t mind a little crunch.”
“It’s
When things looked acceptable in the bowl, she heard herself say, “Would you like to have a shower before we eat?”
“No, ma’am,” was his quiet, unsurprising response.
“I have clothes you could change into.” That got his eyebrow to peak briefly even if he didn’t look over at her. “My brother’s. He used to stay here with me sometimes—not exactly your size, of course.”
“I’m good. But thank you, ma’am.”
“You need to lose the ‘ma’am’ crap. We were over that the minute you got into my car.”
As that brow went up again, she grabbed a block of cheddar and started grating. Hard. “You know . . . you remind me of him. My brother.”
“How so?”
“I also want to save you from what your choices are doing to your life.”
Isaac shook his head. “Not a good idea.”
True enough. God knew she’d failed once at that already.
Shaking the cheese from the grater, she put the thing aside and diced up some Canadian bacon. As they both worked at their tasks, it didn’t take long before the silence got to her . . . but more to the point, it wasn’t in her nature to quit.
Which suggested that if she’d been born a car she’d be in the demolition derby.
“Look, I can try to help with more than just the charges against you. If you’re—”
“I got most of the dirt off.” He lifted the purse while meeting her straight in the eye. “But there’s nothing I can do about the strap.”
“Where are you going to go?”
When he didn’t reply, she sliced off a chunk of sweet butter into the pan and fired up the burner. “Well, you can stay here for the night if you want to rest up. My father’s had this place wired so tightly not even a mouse could get in without triggering the system.”
“ADT is good. But not that good.”
“That’s just the dummy system.” That got both his brows to pop and she nodded. “My father was in the military. The Army, actually. When he got out, he went to law school and then . . . well, he’s kept current, let’s just say. Current and protective of me.”
“He wouldn’t approve of my being here.”
“You’ve been a gentleman so far and that, more than what you wear or where you’re from, has always been what’s mattered to him. And to me, by the way—”
“I’m leaving this money behind when I go.”
Lifting the pan off the heat, she tilted its flat face, sending the butter on a little ride that was ultimately its undoing. “And I can’t accept it. You must know that. It would make me an accessory.” She thought she heard a soft curse, but maybe it had only been an exhale. “After all, I’m willing to bet that cash came from fighting. Or was it drugs?”
“I am not a dealer.”
“Which means it’s the former. Still illegal. By the way, I looked into your background.” She did a rewhisk on the eggs and then poured more than half of them into the pan, a quiet whoosh rising up. “There was nothing except for a newspaper article from five years ago about your death. It came with a picture of you, so don’t bother denying it.”
He went utterly still, and she knew his eyes were on her sharply.
For a moment, she wondered exactly what she’d welcomed into her home. But then, for some reason, she thought about him taking his combat boots off and leaving them by the front door.
Time to get real, she thought. “So are you going to tell me what branch of the government you work for or should I just guess?”
“I’m not with the military.”
“Really. So I’m supposed to believe that you fight like you do and secured your apartment as you did and are on a fast track out of town just because you’re some kind of casual street thug or low-level mob enforcer? I don’t buy it. Incidentally, seeing you in that ring was how I knew for sure—that and the fact that you called off your own dog next to my car when I was attacked. You were utterly in control of yourself and the situation with that druggie, not some sloppy, emotional bouncer type doing a save-the-day. You were a professional—are, actually. Aren’t you.”
She didn’t need him to say a word because she knew she was right. And yet, when there was no comment, she glanced up, half expecting him to be gone in a breath of air.
But Isaac Rothe, or whatever his name was, remained seated at her island.
“How do you like your eggs?” she said. “Hard or soft?”
“Hard,” he bit out.
“Why am I not surprised.”
CHAPTER 14
Dead to rights, Isaac believed the expression was. As he met the eyes of his public defender, hostess, and short-order cook, it was clear she knew she’d pegged him on all accounts.
And didn’t that make him feel stripped naked.
“I think you should resign from my case,” he said grimly. “Effective tonight.”
She sprinkled cheese and Canadian bacon onto the bubbling circle of an omelet. “I’m not a quitter. Unlike yourself.”
Okay. That pissed him off. “I’m not either.”
“Really? What do you call running from your responsibilities.”
Before he knew it, he’d leaned across the countertop, and was looming over her. As her eyes flared, he said roughly, “I call it survival.”
To her credit, or her stupidity, she didn’t relent. “Talk to me. For God’s sake, let me help you. My father has connections. The kind that run deep and into the shadows of the government. There are things he can do to help you.”
Isaac remained outwardly calm. Inside, though, he was scrambling. Who the hell was her father? Childe . . . Childe . . .The name didn’t spark anything in his data banks.
“Isaac,” she said. “Please—”
“You got me out so I can keep going. That has helped me. Now you gotta let me go. Let me go and forget you ever met me. If your father is the kind of man you say he is, you know damn well there are branches of the service where AWOL is a death sentence.”
“I thought you weren’t in the military.”
He let that one lie where it landed . . . which was on top of the pile of shit he’d brought to her door.
In the silence, she added a little seasoning, the saltshaker making no sound, the peppermill crackling. And then she folded the omelet in half and let it hang out on the heat for a bit.
Two minutes later, the plate that was presented to him was white and square and the fork was sterling silver and had curlicues on it.
“I know you’re polite,” she said, “but don’t wait for me. It’s better hot.”
