“He is.”
“He is not.”
“For Christ’s sake, Roxie,” he said and I could tel he was beginning to get angry too.
“Don’t ‘for Christ’s sake’ me, Hank Nightingale. Vance is not playing me.”
“What was happening at Lincoln’s then?”
“Lincoln’s?”
“When he was holdin’ your hand.”
Oh.
That.
“We were having a moment.”
Hank’s control slipped and his eyes went hard.
I watched, scared and fascinated at the same time.
“And when he was touchin’ your ear?” he asked.
Mmm, there was that too.
“We were having another moment,” I answered.
Hank’s control slipped more and his entire face went hard. Then he looked to the bartender as he slid off the barstool
“Watch this,” he ordered the bartender, motioning with his head to our stuff on the bar. My purse and phone were sitting there as was our food.
The bartender looked at the gun and badge on Hank’s belt and nodded.
Then Hank grabbed my hand and pul ed me off the barstool.
“Hey!” I snapped but he dragged me out, around the corner and down the side of the building. Al the while I tried to pul free. Al the while I failed.
Then he pushed me up against the side of the building and I saw I was wrong about Hank’s control slipping. One look at him and I realized Hank’s control was gone.
Any smart girl would have kept her mouth shut. I was not a smart girl. It was an established fact, especial y recently, that I was an idiot.
“I cannot believe you just dragged me out of the restaurant,” I hissed.
Hank got close. “Remember when I told you that you bein’ my woman meant I protected you and kept you safe?”
“Yes,” I was stil hissing.
“Wel , this time, that comes in the form of me tel in’ you what to do and what you’re not gonna do is talk to, or see, Vance again.”
Holy Mary, Mother of God.
I was no longer beginning to get angry. I was pissed the hel off.
“You did not just say that to me.”
“I sure the f**k did.”