She shifted her stance, wrapping her arms around her waist. “Do I?”
“I care if you die. I care—” He cut his own words off.
“You going to finish that sentence?” Had she really just asked that? She was losing it, man. She ran a shaky hand through her hair. Get it together, Bri.
“I care about you. . . . There’s so much wrong with that sentence.”
He couldn’t possibly . . . “Why? Because I’m your detail, your protection?” She tapped her necklace. “And aren’t people listening?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I only send the recordings to Baxter per his request.”
“I’m guessing you won’t be sending this one.”
“No, I will not.”
She stood there, silence filling the small space between them.
“I—” he started.
“And the dangerous part?” she said, cutting him off.
“Baxter’s orders.”
“So you’re saying you wouldn’t send me in there if it were up to you?”
He hesitated, clearly mulling that one over.
“No, I wouldn’t. It’s too risky.”
She placed a hand on her hip. “Wasn’t that the reason you got me out?”
“Yes, but . . .”
“But?”
“But I’m not comfortable with the level of risk. Unfortunately, Baxter makes the calls.”
“And I’m to find a ledger? Dalton probably keeps it in a safe or lockbox.”
“I think you’re right. I hear something shut after he mentions the ledger. Maybe a safe, like you said, or a drawer. A secret compartment in his desk, that sort of thing. He’s also mentioned having a large sum of cash on hand to someone on the phone, who we think is his boss. The money seems to be a payment to the higher up.”
“Why do you think that?”
“I heard him talking about a couple hundred grand he got for one of his girls—”
“Disgusting,” she cut in.
“Very. And he mentioned something about bringing it on his next trip.”
She swallowed. “His next trip to Vegas?”
“He didn’t say. Only that he’d bring it on his next trip, but no location. Regardless, take your time. Wait until Dalton is distracted. Say you have to use the restroom and see if the ledger is in that upstairs office.”
“You told Baxter about the secret office?”