The corner of his eye twitched. “The bartender?”
“No, the convenience store clerk.” I told him about her voicemail, then said, “I think we should go see if the girl shows up.”
He glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “It’s a little after six. We need to see Razor sooner rather than later.”
“I don’t want to go see Razor,” I said flatly. “I think we should go see if the girl shows up.”
He didn’t respond.
“You’re not going to argue with me?”
He studied me a beat longer. “Are you nervous about seein’ Razor? You don’t have to go at all, Harper. I can handle it myself.”
My jaw dropped. “Are you seriously insinuating that I’m scared to eavesdrop?”
“It’s not an insult.” His tone stayed even. “It’s more than simple eavesdroppin’, and you know it. You should be nervous.”
“I’m nervous, but not for me.” I leaned forward, my frustration rising. “I’m nervous for you. You’re talking about going into a biker bar and confronting a guy who will probably shoot you on sight to collect Knox’s bounty.”
“He’s not gonna shoot me in a bar.”
“Fine, he’ll wait until you’re in the parking lot.”
Irritation flicked in his eyes. “I can handle it,” he grunted.
“Yeah, you probably can, but you’re still not on top of your game, and if you show your face tonight, every person who thinks themselves a bounty hunter or a hit man will be searching the city for you.” My voice turned sharp. “It’ll make it a hundred times harder to find what we need to bring Knox down.”
He frowned but didn’t answer. He wasn’t arguing, which probably meant he knew I was right.
“For what it’s worth,” I said, “I think we should still talk to Razor. We just need to put it off for now and hopefully get more information first. And maybe find a better place to confront him. Like his house while he’s sleeping it off.”
“Fine.” He sounded irritated as he reached for the hotel landline. “But I’m ordering dinner from room service.”
“Cassandra said the girl shows up around eight, so we should be there about a half hour early.”
“All the more reason to get our order in now,” he grumped, glancing at me. “What do you want?”
I ordered a chicken and rice dish while he asked for a steak and baked potato, then told them if they got the food to our room in under thirty minutes, his tip would be “extremely” generous.
When he hung up, he still looked irritated.
I placed a hand on my hip. “You don’t agree with my plan?”
He exhaled and shifted toward me, some of his frustration bleeding away. “Harper, I wouldn’t go along with a plan I didn’t agree with.”
“You sure don’t act like you’re happy about it.”
He sighed. “I’m not pissed about your plan. You made good points. I’m pissed that I’m not at a hundred percent. I’m takin’ too long to get over this damn concussion.”
“It’s okay.”
He scowled. “It’s not. It makes me a liability.” His expression softened slightly. “As you pointed out.”
“I wasn’t accusing you of?—”
“Stop.” He paused a beat to make sure I was listening. “You were right.”
My heart sunk. I knew that had to be hard for him to admit. “I’m sorry.”
