ever know. She’d never forgive him.
And that was assuming she’d let him live once she found out what he’d done. What he was still doing.
“She won’t find out,” Killian said, his voice sounding dead even to his own ears. “I’ll make sure of it.”
CHAPTER FIVE
BRYN LOOKED SO DEJECTED, sitting there with her elbows up on the table like a little girl, chin resting in her palm, that Greer almost felt sorry for her. Until she remembered that if Bryn had just done what she was supposed to do where Killian Morgan was involved—which was nothing—Greer would be home right now watching Supernatural.
And anything that tore her away from Dean Winchester just made her salty as fuck.
But yelling at the kid wouldn’t do any good. It never did. Threats of bodily harm didn’t work, either. Greer had come up with some pretty creative ones, too. Nada. Zero compliance.
Mental note for Rio: Bryn’s superhero name should be Zero Compliance.
Greer sat down across from Bryn, crossed her arms over her chest, and shot her a pointed look.
Bryn rolled her eyes. “Gah! I know, OK? I screwed up. Again.”
Greer didn’t answer, just tilted her head, maintaining her very pointy look.
Bryn slammed a palm down on the table. “Look, I’m telling you, Killian Morgan has something going on downstairs.”
It was all Greer could do to maintain her composure at that point, because Bryn had no idea what kind of double entendre she’d just laid at Greer’s feet. Killian Morgan definitely had lots going on downstairs. Hell, every time he spoke he did wicked, naughty things to Greer downstairs. Ahem.
But that was so not the point.
She sighed. “Bryn, you have to let this…” Hate hard-on? “…vendetta you have against Killian go. We don’t have evidence that he’s done anything wrong, but breaking into his building is illegal, and you could go to jail.”
Bryn pouted like the youngster she was. “He doesn’t want the police here. If he was going to call them, he would’ve done it already.”
“He was going to call the police. I talked him out of it.”
By agreeing to go on a date with the bastard. A date, for crap’s sake. She hadn’t had a real date in, what, twenty-eight years? Her last real date had been with her ex-husband. They’d eaten pizza, snuck into a movie, and fucked in the backseat of his parent’s Chevy. She’d been eighteen at the time.
They’d gotten married that year. And she hadn’t even entertained the idea of dating since the divorce was finalized.
Greer had no idea what it was like to date a man these days. Killian said he didn’t expect anything from her, but why would he want to go out with her if he wasn’t going to at least try to cop a feel?
What would she do if he did? Break his hand? Or did she want him to cop a feel?
She fanned her face with her hand. Son-of-a-bitchin’ hot flashes!
“Look,” Greer continued, “if he does decide to press charges at some point, you will be kicked out of the training program, and you’ll never be allowed to work anywhere as a superhero. You’ll have to go back to Hickville where they found you and work at the Dairy Dream again. Is that what you want?”
The pout intensified. “It’s Hackville,” she muttered. “And it was the Shake Shack.”
Greer grimaced. “Like that’s any better.”
Bryn straightened up in her chair and frowned. “Fine. I’ll give up. For now. But only if you promise me that you’ll at least look into what Killian has his team working on in that lab. Then you’ll see I’m right.”
Jesus. The kid never let up! “Let’s say I do look into it, and I don’t find anything. Then you’ll give up permanently? Stay out of this building altogether?”
Bryn looked smug in a way that someone who’d been busted breaking into a building several times should never look. “I promise.”
And with that, they shook hands. It was all Greer could do not to crush the kid’s a little.
That was the least Bryn deserved for dragging Greer out of her house after she’d worked her ass off all day.
As they stood up to leave and Bryn made her way to the door, she glanced over her shoulder at Greer and said, “Oh, and the first thing you’ll probably want to look into? Is why the lab—and the basement—has recently been lined with lead walls.”
And with that, she flipped her hair over her shoulder and flounced—Scarlett O’Hara style flounced—out of the room.
Greer could only think