“Besides,” he said. “It seems a little early to contact your bartender source. We should wait a few hours.”
“And take a shower?” I asked dryly.
“Unless you have a better suggestion on how to fill the time.”
I lifted a brow. “Maybe some room service? I know we already had an early dinner, but I’d sell my soul for a piece of cheesecake.”
He reached for the hem of my shirt and started to lift it over my head. “That can be arranged.”
Part of me protested that I needed to focus on the case. This was a distraction.
But I’d lived my life for my job and look where it had gotten me—alone.
Maybe it was time to live a little.
Or a lot.
Especially since the odds were against us.
Chapter 7
An hour and a half later, we left the hotel, heading down the stairwell and out the back entrance.
While we didn’t need to dress up to go to a comedy club, it made sense that we would have made some effort to clean up if we were really a couple getting away from their kids. James only had T-shirts and jeans, though, and the nicest outfit I had was a pair of clean jeans and a light blue, long-sleeve, button-down shirt. We were both wearing jackets to conceal the weapons we carried. Once we were several hundred yards from the hotel, James fell into step beside me, his freshly shaven jaw catching my attention. It had taken everything in me not to reach out and touch his smooth cheeks earlier.
“Tell me about this bartender,” he said.
I cast a quick glance toward him, then turned back to the sidewalk. “He works at the Brass Magnolia. Sometimes he hears things. Illegal things.”
“How does he get this information?”
“Does it really matter?” I scoffed.
“How do you know it’s trustworthy?”
“Because he’s given me information before. It’s always turned out to be true.”
“Why would he talk to you?”
I shot him a dark look. “When you say ‘you’ do you mean me or do you mean me as a cop?”
“The latter.”
I shrugged. “He has his reasons.”
“You know the reasons and you’re not going to tell me?” The challenge in his voice was clear.
“I don’t see why you need to know,” I countered with plenty of attitude. “I’m not going to tell you who he is, so what does it matter?”
He came to a halt. “You don’t trust me.”
I stopped and turned back, dragging a hand over my head. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, James. I have to protect my source.”
“You have to protect him from me.”
I shook my head in frustration. “That’s not it at all. When he started giving me information, I had to swear to him I wouldn’t tell a soul anything about him. Even then, he only gave me little pieces at first. Until he decided he could really trust me.”
“You didn’t even tell Limp Dick?”
