“That’s good. Real good.” The corners of his mouth quirked upward, along with the tilt of his head and lift of his eyebrows. He chuckled as he slipped into the seat across from her. “Never been called that before.”
“You must really be desperate to keep hitting on someone like me.” Pointing her finger for emphasis, she gritted her teeth and spoke loud and clear in his direction. “Now, leave my table or I’m calling the police.”
The stubble on his jawline caught the light, emphasizing the dark, weathered tan of his now serious expression. His blue eyes focused on her with the intensity of someone looking for clarity before bidding on a rare diamond. She was drawn to the muscles in his forearms as he flexed his fingers back and forth, back and forth.
Caught in his stare, she shivered, then noticed the barely visible earbud. She’d seen those on Secret Service agents when she’d visited the White House for an environmental briefing. She’d also seen the earbuds on people not so glad to see her as she dug for dirt on a corruption story. People who didn’t exactly play nice when she got too close to what they were hiding.
Without looking, she reached her hand into her purse leaning against her side, hoping to grab her keychain mace without him noticing. The purse tilted, and the vial slipped from her hand, landing on the floor with a slight thud.
He didn’t flinch. “You need to practice that move.”
What if he were the danger? She was alone. In the corner of an almost empty restaurant. No one was at the house to expect her home. No one even knew—
Drake. Drake knew. He was right there on the phone. He had to be hearing what was being said.
She wrapped her hand around her phone, ready to use it as a weapon. “If you don’t go away, I’m going to scream.”
The man sighed loud and heavy as he leaned against the high back of the wooden booth, then tapped his earbud and motioned to her phone. “Drake, you should tell this lady who I am before she rips my head off.”
Glancing at the phone, still on FaceTime, there was Drake holding a photo of the man sitting across from her. She lifted her gaze to the actual man and met his blue-eyed stare with one of her own. Evidently, her life had notched up in things that were out of her control. “You’re who’s supposed to protect me?”
“You got a problem with that?” He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the table in front of him.
“No. Why didn’t you say something earlier?”
“Because you were too busy calling me Dance Man.”
She leaned forward in rebuttal. “Listen. I’ve had a very, very bad week. So, if I’ve upset you, that’s too damn bad.”
He popped the side of his fingers on the table. “Well, you’re not the only one who’s had a shitty week, lady.”
“Hey, you two want to put a lid on the sarcasm?” Drake sounded like he meant business.
They both took a breath.
“That’s better,” Drake said. “This is your protector agent, Mitch Granger. And, this is Elizabeth—”
“Liz,” Mitch stated.
“My name is Elizabeth Walkert.”
“Liz. As long as I’m your protector, your name is Liz.”
She might need his protection, but he didn’t get to tell her everything to do. Didn’t get to change her name on some whim of his, either. “Whether you like it or not, my name is Elizabeth.”
As she said Elizabeth, he rattled off the names “Liz, Josh, Reese, Drake.”
“What does that mean?” she asked.
Mitch narrowed his eyes. “Hypothetically, let’s say I found out ten gunmen are closing in on our location. I need to warn the team. I shouted. I saved four people. How many did you save, E-liz-a-beth?”
She felt herself swallow as she slowly closed her eyes. “One.”
“So, your name is Liz. Agreed?”
Her protector was going to be a hard taskmaster. But how could she argue with his logic? His hypothetical had been a valuable lesson. One that enforced this whole cloak-and-dagger affair that had started with her dad’s first text. She had a lot of questions, but for now, she’d focus on not getting in the way.
“Agreed.” She held out her hand. “Hello, I’m Liz.”
