Spooky Business (The Spectral Files #3) - S.E. Harmon Page 0,55

didn’t wait for the obvious answer to what amounted to a rhetorical question. “I should kill that motherfucker.”

“Last time I checked, the state has dibs.”

I moved my head slightly, and his hand dropped from my jaw. His hands flexed twice like he wanted to inspect me again. “I knew something like this would fucking happen.”

“Well, you should’ve told me. The fact that someone is going to use your cranium as a battering ram on a metal table is a hot little tip, my friend.” At his exasperated look, I held up my hands in a placating gesture. “Sorry. I promise not to underestimate him from now on.”

“From now on?” His eyebrow climbed his forehead. “Tell me you’re not thinking of going back down there.”

“I have to.” I frowned at him. “Graycie is counting on me.”

His mouth worked as held back things probably better left unsaid. “You don’t work for the fucking FBI,” he finally ground out. “Maybe it’s time you remember that.”

“And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?” I demanded.

He reached in his pocket and tossed me something that I instinctively caught. I looked down to find my FBI badge in his hands. I couldn’t stop the flush rising in my cheeks even as I gripped it hard enough to make indentations in my palm. I wasn’t sure if I felt more guilty, or embarrassed, or angry. Maybe equal parts of all three.

“Dinner!” We ignored the muffled shout from below, too caught up in our drama for something as plebian as food.

“How did you find this?” I tried to keep my voice even.

It was clear he was trying to do the same. “Tabitha needed to add something to Joseph Carr’s murder book, and I knew it was in your office somewhere.”

My eyebrows drew together. “So you went through my bag?”

“Stop looking at me like that,” he said irritably. “I was checking your attaché case for the file, and I stumbled across the badge.”

I believed him, unequivocally. He didn’t make a habit of lying to me—especially not about stupid shit—but I had no other outlet for my anger. “You should’ve asked.”

“I wasn’t aware we’re not allowed to touch each other’s things,” he said exasperatedly. “You’re telling me you’d think twice before going through my desk? My glovebox?”

I wanted to argue with him on principle, but we both knew the answer. “Still,” I said shortly.

He ran a hand through his hair, his movements short and jerky. “Look, if you don’t want me to ever touch your bag again, then I won’t. But that’s not the real issue here, is it?”

“Time for dinner,” someone shouted from below.

We ignored the call again. I paced a line across the grassy roof and back, twice, before I trusted myself to speak calmly. “I wasn’t going to take the job.”

He watched me pace, his brows drawn together in a frown. “Then why did you take the badge?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Do you want to go back to the FBI?”

I hesitated because he deserved a real answer, and I didn’t have one. My pause went on a little too long, and his expression grew remote. “I don’t know,” I said again. It was like a parrot had taken over my body, and he only knew three words.

“Are you leaving me?” he finally asked hoarsely.

“What?” Startled, my gaze flew to his. “No. God no. What are you even thinking right now?”

He searched my face for the truthfulness of that answer for a few moments, and I tried my best to show him my honesty. He let out a little sigh. “I don’t know.”

Fuck, that damn parrot got him, too.

“Danny, I—”

The hatch on the ground lifted, and my sister poked her head through. She looked irritable as she blew a long strand of blonde hair out of her face. “At the risk of sounding repetitive, dinner is ready.”

I sent her an irritated look. “We’re trying to have a conversation here—”

“It can keep.” Danny’s cool expression matched his voice. “Let’s go eat.”

My sister’s eyebrows rose at his tone. Her gaze ping-ponged back and forth between us before settling on me, and I shook my head. She disappeared down the hatch, and Danny followed her right after.

“Well, fuck.” I stared at the bird in the birdbath, and she stared back. “I certainly could’ve handled that better.”

Meryl Cheep shrieked her agreement.

It wasn’t long before we sat down to a nice dinner of Tofurkey, a side of something yellow, and another side of something pureed and slightly less yellow. There should just