Page 45 of Three Steps Behind

“Oh, and you know how I think?” He didn’t know anything about her. No one did.

“You think you can’t rely on anyone. You come out of the gate snarky, but it’s just a protective measure. You don’t latch onto anyone so no one can let you down, because you’ve been let down a lot. Am I right?”

Far too much so. She shifted, finally feeling her equilibrium returning. “Don’t pretend you know me. I’m just one of your experiments.”

“Experiments?” He frowned. “How do you mean?”

“You try to use me to nail Dalton and see if it works. If not, I’m expendable. Right?”

His jaw held firm—a rugged one at that. Quite handsome now that she really looked at him. Handsome? Where was her mind? Get your game on, girl. He was the enemy.

He bent, coming to eye level with her. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“Right.” She cocked her head. “Let me guess. You’ll protect me with your life.”

“I will.” He didn’t flinch. Didn’t make any evasive maneuvers with his face or body. He was telling the truth. How on earth could that be? Shake yourself out if it, girl. He’s lying. Everybody lies. “You can save the Boy Scout speech for someone else.”

He smiled. “True to form.”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“This is what you do.” He straightened. “Come out like a cat with claws at the ready.”

“Don’t analyze me.” He was hitting too close to home.

He slipped off his jacket and laid it over one of the dining chairs, then pulled another chair over, turning it around and straddling it—a mere foot away from her. “It’s part of my job.”

She linked her arms across her chest and crossed one long leg over the other. Her best feature, many said. If he was going to disarm her with his looks, she could do the same. “Your analysis . . . Let’s see. . . . I was raised by cons. Unstable home environment. Left at sixteen. Juvie record a mile long, which shows a penchant toward criminal activity. And you, personally, believe I’ve pulled more cons than what you busted me for, despite how hard you tried. Am I missing anything?”

“A lot, actually.”

Hadn’t seen that coming. The shock of Dalton’s true identity must be throwing her off her game. That was all. She cocked her head again, focusing in now that it had stopped swirling. “Such as?”

He tapped the top of the chair. “We don’t need to go through that tonight. What we need to go through is what happened at Dalton’s.”

“I told you. He ordered a woman killed.” What else mattered?

“Did he say anything to indicate who this woman might be? Anything we can go on to find her?”

“No.” She shook out her hands. “Nothing tangible.” Dalton’s words replayed in her head, rising and falling in rapid fashion, ripping from her lungs. “I . . . I . . . can’t breathe.” What was happening? She never panicked. Never got out of control. Ever. Now she was falling apart in front of Agent Man. And needed the stupid thing. Great. He’d know her one weakness.

“Slow down.” He kept his voice calm—firm. “Deep breaths. In through your nose and out through your mouth.”

“I . . .” Her chest muscles clamped on her lungs and squeezed, her breath dipping shallower. “I . . . need . . . my inhaler.”

He frowned. “Inhaler?”

She inclined her head at the purse that had gone to prison with her. She’d slipped her inhaler inside before striding out to meet Agent Man at the gate.

Confusion plastered on his face, he stepped to her purse on the table, its black sequined tendrils strewn along the white faux marble tabletop. When he opened it, surprise registered across his face. Pulling the inhaler out, he hurried back to her side and handed it to her.

She shook it and took a puff. Then another one. The sure grasp on her lungs loosened, and after a moment, her breathing slowed, growing deeper. Her chest rose and fell in normal rhythm. Please don’t make a big deal over this. It was what it was.

He stood a few inches in front of her, concern thick on his face. “Better now?”

“Yes.” She swallowed, the urge to get out of the hotel room flaring. The overpowering desire to put New Mexico in her taillights threatened to consume her. She needed to move. To go.

He retook his seat on the chair. “I didn’t know you had asthma.”