He gestured toward my jaw. “You don’t do subtle.”
“You’re clearly not in the loop,” I said.
His brow lifted slightly.
“Don’t you stay updated on social media?” I asked.
“The FBI has a unit for that,” he replied evenly. “I don’t personally monitor Willow Lake theatrics.”
“You’re missing out.”
He studied the bruise again. “You all right?”
“A rug and I had a serious confrontation.”
“And the rug won?” He chuckled again.
“There was also an elbow involved and a cell phone.”
“So, they all ganged up on you and took you down.”
“In a way,” I said with a laugh.
He nodded toward the bakery. “How about a tea?”
“If I drink any more tea today, I’ll start floating down Main Street. Go grab a coffee while I grab a table for us.”
Every outdoor table at Sadie’s sat beneath one of those cheerful blue and white striped umbrellas, and I chose one near the edge of the sidewalk. It gave a clear view of the street without making it obvious that I was watching anything in particular.
Stone returned a minute later with his coffee, a hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“I stand corrected,” he said as he set the cup down and shook his cell phone at me. “I had to take a look.”
“And?” I asked.
“It was like walking into ‘Showdown at the O.K. Corral.’” He shook his head once. “You and the gunslinger are trending.”
“Of course we are.”
“Full video,” he added. “Multiple angles.”
“I don’t even want to know.”
“Trust me, you don’t.”
He took a seat across from me, the umbrella casting both of us in shade.
“You didn’t cross the street to discuss your cinematic debut,” he said.
“No, I didn’t.”
He waited.
“I’ve been thinking about the safety deposit boxes,” I said. “Not the contents. The holders.”
His expression sharpened just slightly.
“Ian and I talked about the possibility that someone might spread something important across multiple banks,” I continued. “If you were protecting something valuable, you wouldn’t put it all in one place.”
