He stayed put. “Even Melissa told you to back off.”
Her head snapped back toward him. “You talked to Melissa?”
“Flint’s tip came from the SEC,” he said, tone calm, controlled. “Some people there talk when they’re worried. You called a friend. She did what she could. Now I’m doing what I can.”
“Controlling the variables,” she said softly, bitterness undercutting the words.
“Protecting the asset,” he corrected—and immediately regretted it. He could feel the words hang between them, heavy and ugly. “That’s not what I meant.”
Her eyes hardened. “No. You said exactly what you meant.”
He dragged a hand over his jaw. “You want me to say it differently? Fine. I don’t want you hurt.Youspecifically, No-No.”
The second the nickname slipped out, he wished he could snatch it from the air and stuff it back in. But it was too late for that. “There. Plain English,” he ground out between clenched teeth. “I’m trying to protectyoufrom your own bravery.”
She studied him for a long beat, the kind of silence that had weight. “I’m not brave, Marshall. I’m thorough. If I walk away from something like this, I’m not me.”
He looked away, jaw working. Same old Norah. Same need to make sense of chaos. He’d loved that about her once. It terrified him now.
He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Then here’s what needs to happen next,” he said finally. “You create distance from this. Move the data to a neutral review, and keep your name off anything that smells like accusation.”
She arched a brow. “You think that saves me?”
“Probably not. But it buys us time.”
“To do what?” Curious, brave, infuriating woman.
“We can build a case without your name on it. If there’s a fuse, we’ll trace it back to whoever’s holding the match.”
“And in the meantime?” she asked. “You follow me home?”
He almost smiled again. “In the meantime, you stop carrying copies with you.”
Her eyes widened, too fast to hide it. “How?—”
There were few things in this world he knew as well as he knew Norah’s incredible mind. Which was why he could guess exactly what she would have done as a failsafe with data she suspected. “You’re careful,” he said. “Careful people hedge. They print one page. Fold it small. Slide it into a notebook.” His voice softened. “You need to burn it. Tonight.”
The air between them thickened. She was already calculating whether to listen to him. He could see the notes moving behind her eyes—risk, reward, proof, panic—clicking into place. He could tell she was going to refuse.
And then she would do what he said anyway. He could live with that.
“You really think you can order me around?” There was the challenge, right on cue.
“I think I’m the only one trying to keep you alive.”
Norah’s entire body tightened. “Dang it, Marshall. That’s not your job anymore.”
“That doesn’t mean I quit caring about you.”
The words were out before he could stop them. She froze, and his stomach dropped. He hadn’t meant to hand her that piece of himself again. His heart kicked once, hard, and his fingers twitched. He wanted to pull her back, to make herunderstand. But he shoved his hands into his coat pockets instead, fingers curling into fists.
Control was safer than impulse.
“You left, remember?” she said quietly. “Youwalked away and never looked back.”
He stared past her, toward the red blur of a passing bus. “You told me to go. And believe me, I looked back,” he said. “Just not soon enough.” It was more than he meant to give, but the truth burned cleaner than excuses.
For a long moment neither of them spoke. The city noise filled the space between them—tires hissing on wet pavement, the hum of a bus engine, the slow tick of the pedestrian signal. The world kept moving like it didn’t care who got left behind.
