Bloodshot - Cherie Priest [89]
Mind you, he could’ve tossed a grenade into the room and that would’ve been the end of me. Or he could’ve started a fire. Or … oh shit. Well, I had reason to worry about his threat after all. But by the time my neuroses had calculated them, the moment had passed and it would’ve been silly to say anything blustery about it.
So I said, “Great.” Because it meant nothing.
Note my careful restraint. I didn’t breathe a syllable about how I’d practically saved his life the night before and how this was no way to treat somebody who’d pulled your ass out of the fire. Mostly I didn’t say this because I didn’t know if it was true or not. Usually, that doesn’t stop me. But when dealing with a vengeful gender-shifter with covert military training and the patience to hold a grudge for years at a time … I could let it slide. I had enemies enough. I’d rather not add another one to the tally, especially not one who knew I was a woman, and who knew at least one of my safe houses. And, as I reflected morosely, he also knew more about one of my clients than I ever should’ve exposed.
Goddamn, I was getting sloppy. I wanted to sit there and punch myself, but Adrian was watching me, and I felt like it would be inappropriate to have a nervous breakdown in front of a man who just casually mentioned that he was not going to have to kill me after all, at least not today.
But in the future, I needed to be more careful.
I’d been saying that a lot lately, but hey, it was true. If I had nothing else to thank Ian Stott for (apart from the inconveniences), I could thank him for the wake-up call. I needed to get my business back in gear, and my head back out of my ass.
As my mind had been wandering right up that rearward canal, Adrian had been pondering. He pointed at the gear and said, “Tonight, we can work together. As long as you understand that I don’t trust you, and that I still believe that somehow, this is all your fault.”
“This? What this?” I demanded to know. “Even if I blew your cover at the drag bar—which I most certainly did not—I’m not the one who stole sensitive government documents and buried them out in the open, where any damn fool could come along with a bulldozer and retrieve them!”
He gave me one of those shrugs that made his torso ripple. “No one’s bothered it yet. And okay, you can have that one—that part wasn’t your fault.”
“Thank you,” I spat, even though I didn’t feel very thankful. But I had to say something, and it was either be polite or start fighting with him. I didn’t want to fight with him. I wanted to get along with him long enough to get Ian’s paperwork and get back to Seattle, or to wherever, and leave this jerk to whatever covert disco nightlife he best preferred.
Unflapped and cool, he said, “You’re welcome. Are you ready to go? Let’s get this over with.”
“I’m ready. And I couldn’t agree with you more.” Even though I had a feeling I’d be doing most of the digging, purely by virtue of the fact that I’m faster and stronger. Ah, well. Hand me a shovel and call me a feminist.
We skulked out of the building together, trying to simultaneously act normal and be super-careful. I don’t think we succeeded very well at either goal, but I had to give credit where it was due—Adrian could skulk like a motherfucker. That was a man with skulking in the blood … or maybe, it’d been trained into him. I didn’t know much about Navy SEALS or what they do, but just from watching him navigate a corridor I could guess that they were pretty much total badasses. Or maybe just this one was. I’d need a broader sampling to really form an educated opinion.
He moved almost as silently as I did, though I think he put more effort into it. And when he moved, he looked like some kind of big cat—all long, lean muscles and poised tension. It was nice to watch.
We made our ninja way out to the parking garage and over to my mock-cop-car. For a split second he acted like he thought he’d be driving, but I disabused him of that notion immediately by jingling the keys and hip-checking him away from the driver’s door.
“Sorry,” he grumbled.