Her grin widens, hitting my heart dead center.
Holy crap, I am so screwed.
To keep my mouth from saying any other foolishness, I stuff it with eggs, hashbrowns, and toast. Downing my coffee, I throw some bills on the table.
I should open my phone and call a rideshare. Instead, I tuck that damn lock of hair behind her ear, then help her with her coat. “You sure you don’t mind dropping me off?”
Say no.
“Sure, not a problem.” When she strolls to the door, my hand reaches for her lower back as if I’d known her for years rather than hours.
Soon, we’re in her vehicle. She brakes at the town’s only stoplight while glancing over the stick shift. “I’m sorry you spent the night in jail, but Gina was only looking out for you. Would you go off to some remote area of Texas at night by yourself?”
Yes.Scott Hunter, ex-Marine and member of the FBI, would have no qualms. Jack Gurion, however, not so much.
I hang my head, “Probably not.”
“So, why in the world would you do it here?” At her chastising tone, I hold back my grin.
“Because Canadians are more polite? Nicer?” I snicker, causing her eyes to roll.
After, she bangs her palms on the steering wheel. “Sometimes you are such a jerk. Do you make light of everything?”
What is it about this woman?“Listen, it’s not my fault things have changed. It’s not like I can give the grant money back. What would you suggest I do?”
Instead of answering my question, she purses her lips, concentrating on the drive. Soon, the sun comes out from under a cloud. The yellow light reflects on the thin, icy layer of snow, and everything sparkles.
I don’t know why, but I need to see her smile again, so talk about something safer. “It’s so damn beautiful up here.”
Her brows arch while a corner of her mouth lifts. “Don’t get out much, huh?”
Shit. Another mistake.“You’re right. I’m stuck behind a desk—a lot.”
“Mmm.” Passing a barn with a milk tanker parked in front, she turns up a hill.
Soon, the paved road ends. As pine boughs brush against the side of her 4-wheel drive, we bounce across the frozen mud.
Once we reach my vehicle, I jump out and curse. The mercenaries slashed all four tires, or maybe the sheriff did it. Of course, my phone has no bars.
Kelly’s eyes widen as she circles the damage. “I hate to say I told you so—but you can’t be out here.”
“Yup. I hear ya.” Not for the first time, I wish I could shed my alter ego and tell her I’m FBI.
She thinks I should be scared, but I’m not. What I am, is determined. However, with the agency watching every penny, Batt is going to ream me a new asshole.
I’ve already blown my budget, and I’m just getting started. “Can you drop me off at the closest garage with a tow truck?”
Back in the driver’s seat, Kelly glances over the cup holder. “I know a guy. He’ll save you money but doesn’t deal with insurance.”
“Thanks. Appreciate it.” The damage doesn’t worry me as much as the message they sent. It could be the two-legged coyotes noticed my presence, or the sheriff wanted me out of the way more than she was letting on.
The border agent purses her lips. “Is there any other way to conduct your research?”
“No. I’ve already bought the cameras. I simply need to install them.” I recall a similar argument in Batt’s office. When I suggested we use drones with satellite coverage, he shot me down. Yeah, big surprise there. Everything is being used in the South.
“The noncitizens will take them down. Your stuff won’t last a week.” Her patronizing tone grates on my nerves.
Grumbling, I poke around in my knapsack and when I lift one of my hi-tech cameras with thumb and forefinger, she whistles through her teeth. “Whoa. Those are tiny.”
