“Okay.” He sat back and crossed his arms, ignoring the insistence from his stomach that it had been too long since he’d eaten, and hoped the chair wouldn’t collapse. “So, what do you really do for a living?”
“I told you—”
“Come on, Emma,” he said, not bothering to hide his frustration. “There’s no way in hell you’re just a reporter. And I’m in this now, whatever the fuck it is, regardless of your intentions.”
She chewed her lower lip. “Why were you at the Dying Lion? Were you following Viktor?”
He gaped at her. “Youwere meeting him.” Holy shit. How had he not seen it?
What did this mean? Had she known he would be there? Had she planned to use their connection somehow? He shook his head. None of that made sense. If her plan hadn’t gone to hell, she might never have seen Jason at all. But maybe she had been chosen in case he caught her with Viktor, expecting that he’d presume she wasn’t involved, or let their history cloud his judgment.
Maybe he already had. Disappointment slid down his throat, hot and thick.
“Yes.” She straightened and raised her chin. “Why were you there?” Her gaze could’ve melted stone.
Wasshemad athim?He dug a hand into his hair before realizing he still wore the wig. Whatever was going on was far beyond what he’d signed on for. “My brother asked my team to follow several people. He’d received a tip that someone was selling details of their contract negotiations to a competitor. Looks like he was right.”Fuck. Jason sat forward in his chair and leaned in. “Your turn. Who exactly do you work for?”
“Itoldyou. I’m a freelancer. My investigation is being funded by a nonprofit called the FPP—Free Pen Project—aimed at making sure important stories don’t get buried.” Her expression flickered with something unreadable. “Viktor was one of my sources.”
“For what kind of information?”
She just stared at him, her jaw stubborn. “The kind that will prove what type of man Renfro Warner really is.”
A driven billionaire? An entitled prick? A generous philanthropist? From what Jason knew, the man was all of those.
Jason sighed. God, he was tired of playing games. He stood and Emma’s brow wrinkled. He didn’t want to scare her, but he needed answers. Crowding into her space, he looked down at her and asked, “What’s on the drive, Em?”
CHAPTER SIX
“TAKE A BREAK?” Nolan Yamazaki stopped in the doorway of Dallas’s office, upstairs from the used book store in Hermosa Beach, looking heart-stoppingly handsome in a white oxford and striped tie. “You need air that doesn’t come through a vent, and I need good coffee and a chocolate croissant from Butter.”
“Can’t.” Dallas forced his gaze back to his screen, but the words were a jumble. It was like the other man somehow jammed his brain signals so Dallas couldn’t think when he was around. “I have to find Emma.”
Instead of taking the hint, Nolan ran a hand through his chin-length black hair and walked into the office, his beautiful mouth turning down. “Shit. Any luck?”
“Not yet.”
“Maybe if you detach from the keyboard for a few minutes, you’ll come back refreshed and focused and solve the case,” Nolan pushed. “Come on, Markham. Blue skies and sunshine would do you some good.”
“I’m avoiding skin cancer.”
“Yeah,” Nolan scowled, “and life.”
“You’re one to talk,” Dallas shot back, getting a physical jolt when he finally made eye contact. “You’ve been working overtime since breaking up with Amanda.”
His expression darkened. “I don’t want to talk about Amanda.”
“I don’t want to talk at all,” Dallas said. “You’re fucking up my focus.” In ways the other man would never know. Which was why he tried to avoid Nolan whenever possible. Difficult when they often had to team up to chase down offshore funds stashed by the people the Night Herons targeted.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Nolan shaking his head. “Fine. Can I get you anything? One of those marzipan danishes, maybe?”
Damn. The guy knew him too well. Just the mention of his favorite pastry had his mouth watering. He’d skipped breakfast—he glanced at the clock—and apparently lunch. “I’ll take two.” Not the fuel of champions, but whatever.
Nolan huffed out a laugh and mumbled, “Unbelievable.”
Not daring to look at him, Dallas kept his gaze on his screen, not breathing until Nolan walked out and shut the glass door behind him.
Dallas let out a long sigh, his body relaxing by degrees, limbs loosening. On the screen, possible sightings of Emma or the unbelievably hot man with her—whose loyalties were unclear given that he was Byron Chin’s brother—finally came back into focus.Jesus. The Nolan Scramble, as he’d come to call it whenever the man entered his orbit, seemed to be getting worse. Dallas had to find a better way to steer clear of him.
