Home > Hard Beat (Driven #8)(26)

Hard Beat (Driven #8)(26)
Author: K. Bromberg

“Ever heard of knocking?”

“It was open.” I hear the startled inhale of someone not used to dealing with guns when I release the magazine from the butt and set it on the dresser in front of me.

“Lots of places are open in this city that I wouldn’t go inviting myself into, FYI.” I slide an impatient glance her way as I double-check to make sure that the weapon is empty and safe.

“I – I just didn’t realize that you could carry a weapon here.”

“You can’t. Next topic or get the fuck out because frankly you’ve used up about all of my patience, and it’s probably best if you’re not around me right now.” I swear my anger must roll off me and slam into her, because she just stares with her mouth agape. “That’s what I thought. Thanks for the chat. Now if you’ll see yourself out…,” I say as I turn to the barely there closet where my suitcase is stowed to get some gym shorts, dismissing her and her surprised eyes.

“I’m sorry. I made a mistake.” My step falters at the contrition in her voice, causing me to turn to stare and wait for her to continue. The silence between us stretches, and I can tell that my gun sitting out in the open unnerves her by the way her eyes keep flickering to it. Does she agree with the brass? Think I’m losing it too? “Tanner…”

“You didn’t tell me you were fluent in Dari.” Screw waiting for her and her placating tone. I’m a man of action, and we need to get to the bottom of this right here, right now.

“You’ve been so busy holding a grudge against me, you didn’t care to ask.” She sets her camera down on the nightstand, and with her shield now gone, her posture changes and becomes more defensive.

“Don’t you think that’s something that was important for me to know?” I lean my hip against the edge of the dresser, but my eyes never leave hers. I’m trying to gauge her body language by her responses.

“Why didn’t you —”

“I’m the one asking the questions here. Not you.” I cut her off. I want answers, and I intend to get them. “Who are you working for?”

Her eyes widen slightly, and her brow narrows in confusion. “Worldwide News?” She answers hesitantly, drawing the words out as if asking me if it’s the correct answer.

“No. That’s who you’re pretending to work for. When you steal my story, who are you going to report for and take the glory for yourself?”

Surprise flickers across her face instantaneously at the same time as she starts shaking her head back and forth. “You’re a crazy asshole – you know that?” she says, voice rising as she steps toward me. “A neurotic, controlling one at that!”

“Get used to it, sweetheart!” I step into her space, welcoming the fight I see flashing in her eyes. “No one takes what I’ve busted my ass for, for themselves.”

“Certifiable!” she mutters with a roll of her eyes, and the simple action sets me off. Who the hell is she to question me when she’s the one trying to play me for the fool? “I screw up, and you think I’m trying to steal your story from a source I’ve never even met before?”

“Let’s add it all up, because one and one sure as fuck isn’t equaling two here.” I need to pace, work through the anger eating me from the inside out. The space in my room is small, but I manage to find a path. “You hit on me in the bar, we sleep together, but the next morning you swear that you didn’t know you were going to be assigned to me. Bullshit!” I cough the word out and hold up my hand to cut her off when she tries to argue. “You were freelance for how long before within the blink of an eye, my partner? Let me ask you… As a freelancer, were you a reporter, a photographer, or were you both? Why be just one when you can have it all, right?”

“Fuck you,” she spits out, and it takes everything I have not to be an even greater asshole than I’m already being and tell her, No, thanks. Been there, done that.

Just as she’s about to say something else, I continue. “Then you miraculously know I’m on a possible story… how? By the way I walked out of the lobby? I mean how the fuck did you know to follow me up to my room and ask? And then of course being the good guy that I am… I bring you with me where you proceed to spook the fuck out of my contact when you bust out in Dari, and then…” I turn to face her, and she steps back so that her shoulders are against the wall. I can tell she’s rattled, but I’m glad because I’ve learned that when you’re rattled, your true colors show, and I’m waiting for hers to light up this room like a damn rainbow. “And then you take his fucking picture? A man who is giving me information about high-level meetings of terror officials and you take his picture?” My voice escalates with each word as I take another step forward to where I’m so close I can feel the heat of her body in the space between us even though we’re not touching. “One and one is adding up to a whole bucket full of bullshit that seems a little hinky to me.”

We stare at each other, eyes locked, jaws clenched, anger emanating off us in invisible sparks in the space between us that I can’t see but can sure as hell feel. I’m so fixated on my spite and anger that she catches me off guard when she shoves against my chest to push me away from her. My hands close around her wrists and she tugs, only serving to bring us closer together.

“Let me go!” She struggles, but I hold tight.

“I want answers.” I grunt out in amusement because even though she’s so damn petite, she’s also quite strong, and holding her still takes some concerted effort.

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