Page 74 of Parting Shot

“Yes, we did.”

“And nothing’s really changed.”

“I have. I’ve changed.”

“Okay.”

I leaned forward. “Am I gonna get shit? Probably. Most likely. Will someone spray my locker pink and write faggot on it?” I had to think a second. “Doubtful. But will there be a thing, like an unspoken wall I can’t get over? Yeah, I think so.”

“It seems this would be career suicide for you.”

“Suicide’s a little dramatic.”

“But what you are now might be as high as you go.”

“Yes.”

He scowled at me. “Then what?”

“Then nothing,” I said, taking hold of his hand. “I figured you were gone, and I was basically settling back into my life.”

His eyes searched mine.

“But it didn’t feel right. I couldn’t seem to get my bearings or wrap my brain around that.”

“That’s very well put, and I felt the same.”

“There, see? That’s important, we’re on the same page. So I want us to do this. If it doesn’t work out, it won’t be for a lack of trying. I’m gonna give it my best shot.”

“I like how you think you have a choice.”

I let his hand go. “Don’t start. I gotta tell you about the job now.”

“Tell me about the job, be my guest, but the rest of it is a done deal.”

He was so arrogant, but what was funny was, I knew—just knew—what he was rambling on about.

“You’ve just decided that, no matter what, I’m gonna belong to you.”

“Yes. Exactly. This is done, Detective. You’re never getting rid of me.”

I didn’t tell him how much I loved his certainty.

After dinner, I took Aaron to the FBI field office and realized the one thing I could offer the man no one else ever had.

Intrigue.

Watching him listen to Special Agent Summers, the way he absorbed every single word out of her mouth and bounced in his chair with excitement, leaning forward, entranced with every word out of her mouth, I realized that even if I failed with him, I would be a tough act to follow.

“Do I get a cool code name?” He was dying to find out.

Who knew billionaires could be giant nerds too?

TEN

It was a blur. I could see where a person could lose his head, hanging out with Aaron Sutter. The company plane was amazing, and the limousine that picked us up from a private airfield and drove us downtown to the Vegas Strip was luxurious and stocked with more alcohol and food than I’d thought was possible.

“Hey, I forgot my sunglasses,” I said, holding out my hand. “Loan me yours.”