Page 67 of Brutal
“They didn’t take anything,” he says.
“I know.”
“Then they weren’t looking for an object.”
“No.” I set my glass down. “They were sizing her up.”
“Yes.”
I look at him. “And?”
“So far she’s not backing down.” The faintest thread of admiration winds through his tone. Not for Delaney. Not really. For the problem she presents. Nate admires difficult things.
“How much does our father know?” I ask.
“Enough.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning he knows she’s still asking questions.”
Still.
Still asking. Still digging. Still stepping closer to a door she doesn’t understand.
Still not frightened enough.
I think of her facing me in her apartment, chin lifted, fury bright on her face even with her pulse jumping at her throat. I think of her telling me I don’t get to tell her what to do.
It would be funny if it wasn’t going to get her killed.
“You shouldn’t have touched her.”
I give him a flat look. “Who says I did?”
“Be serious, Sam.”
“Spare me your moral outrage, Nate.”
He rolls his eyes. “This isn’t moral outrage.”
“No, of course not. You’d have to actually have morals first.”
He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “You think you’re going to lecture me on morals? You? The brute force of this operation?”
My laugh is low and ugly. “That isn’t going to work on me.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m not trying to work you, Sam. But you’re already too close.”
I stop closer. “Say what you came to say.”
He holds my gaze. “She got to you. Compromised you. Now she’s a weakness.”
“She is not a weakness,” I return.
Nate’s expression doesn’t change. “Then what is she?”
I don’t answer.
