Page 67 of Dozer

"Do you?"

"It sounds like I didn't trust you."

"Did you?"

The question is quiet. Too quiet. I swallow.

"I trusted you with my life about four days ago." My fingers tighten around the edge of the table. "I just didn't trust the world around either of us not to find a way to get this information out of you if it came to that. There's a difference, even if it doesn't feel like much of one right now."

He studies me for a long moment. I hate this part. The waiting. The possibility that I've just taken everything we've built over the last week and dropped it between us like a grenade.

Then he leans back slightly. "The body's gone," he says. "But the real evidence isn't."

"No."

"Where is it?"

"Safe." It’s not that I don’t trust him, I don’t trust the location. There could be bugs in here. There could be people listening in that we don’t know about. I make a hand motion to indicate that to him.

"How safe?"

"Safer than anything we've carried with us."

Something shifts across his face. Not anger or betrayal. I watch as he processes the information I’ve given him. I’ve seen him with this exact look at crime scenes, in gunfights, in the middle of conversations when somebody says one thing that changes the entire shape of a problem. He's doing it now. He’s recalibrating.

"You're not just a consultant."

"I never said I was."

"You've been running your own operation this whole time."

"I've been running contingencies. I always back up my work. There's a difference." Despite myself, the corner of my mouth lifts. "But yes. I think somewhere in my head, some part of me has been treating this whole mission like a case I couldn't fully trust anyone else to protect properly. Including Spartan Elite. I trust Hunter completely. But I don’t know everyone on the team, all the contractors and connections he has. I can’t trust people I don’t know." I hesitate. "Including, for a while, you."

He doesn't flinch. That somehow makes it worse. "I'm not upset."

"You should be a little upset."

"I'm considering the information."

"That sounds suspiciously like Dozer for I'm annoyed but don't want to admit it."

A ghost of a smile touches his mouth. "You're even better than the file said you were."

I've spent years being underestimated by people who thought competence had to look a certain way. Years being the woman people sent into rooms because they wanted the facts afterward but didn't necessarily expect her to be the one who found them. I’ve been misjudged because of my uniqueness and people are scared of my authentic self. In a male dominated profession, I’ve been overlooked by being female. Very few people have ever seen me for who I am or what I’m capable of.

"Thank you," I say, quieter.

His gaze stays on mine. "You should've told me."

"I know."

"But I understand why you didn't."

That one hurts more. Not because it's cruel. Because it's kind. I’m not sure I deserve his complete forgiveness, but I think, if the roles had been reversed, I would have understood.

"The body's gone," he says again, his voice lower now. "The real evidence is somewhere nobody knows about. Which means the case isn't dead."

"No."