“Number two, if you start shouldering the blame for everything that happened after Iraq, you’ll never stop. Tell me, are you responsible for the plaque buildup in Mr. Michelson’s heart? Are you responsible for the bus driver who didn’t stomp on the brakes hard enough or soon enough to avoid hitting Mrs. Michelson? Are you responsible for Benshooting Philippe? Are you responsible for Lawrence’s craziness and his unwillingness to listen to reason?”
She could see him pondering her questions and got her mad on. “In case you’re wondering, the answer to all of those questions isno. And if you contemplate for one more second that it might beyes, then I hate to have to be the one to tell you, Crazy Train, but this ain’t your station.”
“I only wish I’d had more time to talk him down.” Christian shook his head. “I’ll always wonder if I might have been able to—”
She cut him off. “You wouldn’t have. Lawrence Michelson was dead set on killing us.”
She didn’t tell him about Lawrence’s boner, or how it had flexed and pulsed against her bottom when Lawrence had stopped pointing his weapon atherhead and had instead startedpointing it at Christian’s. The thought of killing Christian had excited Lawrence.Sexually.Gross with a capitalG.
“So let’s do this one more time, huh?” she continued. “Let’s get rid of all that shit in your head and clear out the stink. Repeat the phrase.”
“You havesucha way with words.”
“So you’ve said. Now do it.”
“Bossy,” he accused.
“Strong-willed,” she corrected.
“Fine.” Another sigh. “None of what happened tonight was my fault.”
This time when he said it, she didn’t hear a silentbuttacked onto the end of the phrase. She nodded with satisfaction.
“Now, about that truth,” he said.
“Ugh. I was kinda hoping you’d forget about that.”
He tilted his head against the fluffy pillow on the bed—there were definitely some perks to flying in aprivate jet. “Why does the thought of me asking you another truth make you nervous?”
“How d’ya know it does?”
“Because you’ve slipped into your ’hood-girl grammar and your Chicago accent is extra thick.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Anyone ever tell you it’s a nut-punch-worthy offense to refer to a grown woman as agirl?”
“Duly noted. Anyone ever tell you that you’re bloody brilliantat trying to Christian Watson your way out of answering a question?”
Damnit. He had her there. “I thought we agreed to stop using your name as a verb.”
“How do you plan to have children?”
All the air left her lungs in one long, gusty exhale. “Who says I wanna have kids?”
“You did. You said, and I quote, ‘I want to have kids someday. And I don’t want them to get fucked over by methe way I got fucked over by my parents.’”
She had said that, hadn’t she? Word for word.See?Detail-oriented.
“What have I told you about trying to mimic an American accent?” she grumbled.
“Stall much?” He quirked a brow.
“Damnit! Get out of my head!”
“Turnabout is fair play, darling. Feels like you’ve been in my head all day.”
He wasn’t going to let it go. She could tell.And shehadmade a deal with him.
“I’m looking into artificial insemination,” she admitted. “Boss has asked me to stay on as the office manager once BKI goes civilian. It’s like I’ve finally found the home I’ve always longed for, so I’m ready to start building the life I’ve always longed for. Andthatmeans two kids, hopefully about two years apart. Ihatedbeing an only child. It was so lonely.Isso lonely. Well,youknow. And, wow. I’m sort of rambling on like a prison letter, aren’t I?”
