“I never said it was, but it’s not weighted equally.”
Her brows drop.
“I’m your superior officer. You’re a probie. This gets out, and it’s not me who will lose my job. People will think I’m using you. Or you using me, which is fucking stupid.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“It is. But it’s the way things are, curren?—”
“So, you’re saying we can’t be—wellanything, because if you make a move, you’re taking advantage of me? That’s the power imbalance?”
I nod, and she returns her stare to the wall opposite us.
“I can’t keep you safe if I can’t do my job properly, London.”
She has to understand that is more important. Her being alive and well is more important.
“Sure thing, Cap.”
She pushes from the floor to stand, and I look up as she tucks her hair behind her ear. “Have a good night.”
She descends the stairs, and I can’t pull my gaze from the sway of her hips, the bounce of her wavy hair over her bare shoulders.
God, why is this so damn hard?
I wait a few moments before rolling off the wall and rising to my feet. When I make it to the bottom of the watchtower, Sandy is waiting for me, two beers in his hands. He extends one and gives me a sympathetic look I know is loaded with every worthless piece of advice he is dying to give me.
“You should go?—”
I hold my hand up. “Drop it, bud.”
His mouth flattens to a thin line before he glances to the party now in full swing. “I thi?—”
“I know what you’re going to say. And I won’t. It’s not worth it.”
I make the mistake of taking a sip of my beer, and while I’m mid-swallow, Sandy says, “For your information, I was going to tell you Schmiddy just followed her out.”
Fuck.
I shove my beer into his chest and take off for the house.
I fly through the garage and out the roller door that’s been left up to encourage crew inside. The city lights are on already by the time I spill out onto the sidewalk. Folks are walking home from work, and there is steady foot traffic as I weave through bodies, craning my neck to find London.
I spot Schmiddy a few steps ahead. London is walking by herself, headphones on.
Picking up the pace, I push through the crowd as Schmiddy reaches her, grabbing her arm.
London spins back, a hand swiping the headphones from her ears as they fall onto her shoulders. Her face twists, and she steps back. Her gaze flicks over his shoulder, finding me.
Schmiddy—
Hands her a phone.
Her phone.
Surprise flashes over her face before she pushes up a tense smile and slides the phone into her bag.
I rub a hand behind my neck. Fuck, that could have escalated, if I’d...
