Page 38 of Hard Pass

“Enough. I have a job to do and so do you. We’re on the same team.”

He snorts and looks around slowly before his eyes find mine again, his lips curving slow and deliberate like he’s just decided something. “Is it the conflict of interest making you so touchy?”

There’s a beat, where his words hit my ears and my lips ask, “Conflict of interest?”

“That’s what this is, isn’t it, Trouble?”

For a second, I don’t breathe. Don’t move. Can’t think.

Because with that one nickname, comes everything I’ve worked so hard to compartmentalize. The salty breeze. The loud music. His lips on mine. Laughter tangled with kisses. My trembling hands as my bravado waned. And then one thing I didn’t recall before—the quiet unexpected softness of his voice when he thought I was asleep.

My pulse stutters and then races. My thoughts do the same.

He remembers.

I drag in a breath, slow and controlled, even as my mind struggles to catch up, to reorganize, and shove all of this back in the neat, sealed box it belongs in.

Is it the conflict of interest making you so touchy?

“No.” The single syllable breaks when I say it. “That’s not it.” I swallow.

His grin is pure male arrogance. “So you do remember me, Trouble.” His eyes dance with condescension as they hold mine.

Fuck. Just . . . fuck. This was way easier when he thought I didn’t. When—

“You don’t get to call me that,” I state, spine stiffening.

His brows lift slightly and I swear to God if this was a sports game, the momentum just switched to his side. “No?”

You wanted him to remember and now you want him to forget. Which is it, Dublin?

“No.” I cross my arms over my chest, using the action to anchor myself. “That was five years ago. A drunken and brief mistake.”

Emotion flashes in his eyes—bruised ego, maybe—but it’s gone almost as quickly as it appeared.

“A mistake?” he repeats, taking another step closer. Is he trying to intimidate me? I won’t let him. I need to get out of here and start working this case. This whole conversation is redundant. “That’s not how I remember it.”

Of course it isn’t. I almost roll my eyes.

Because he didn’t get what he wanted?

“Listen,” I say coolly. “Enough. Cabo was years ago and ancient history. Now we’re dealing with something more serious and that has to be our focus. My focus.”

His gaze drifts over me, slow and measured, but then I see anger brewing again. “Right. Despite our ancient history, you’ll be fair?”

Those two words shouldn’t feel like a jab, yet they do.

“People evolve,” I say. “You should try it sometime.”

A smirk ghosts over his mouth. “I liked you better before.”

I shake the comment off, but it still has barbs to it.

“Then it’s a good thing my job isn’t to be liked,” I say.

“No. But it is to be fair, right?”

“Always,” I say, trying to figure out where he’s going with this.