“Verdict?” he asked like he had thirteen times prior.
“Innocent,” I said. “I mean, guilty of everythingbutespionage.”
Book plopped down in the chair next to me. His hulking frame made the metal legs screech across the tile floor. I tried to ignore the barrel chest and the way his thighs stretched the fabric of his khakis. Booker might have been an attractive man, but it had less to do with his appearance and more to do with his presence. I could almost feel the energy in the room as he let out an exasperated sigh.
“I thought he was going to give us a name,” Booker admitted. “Not that he caught his grandma stealing candy from the store.”
“We should probably have her arrested.”
“Can’t be too careful,” he added. “You do remember the League of Seniors?”
I tensed at the mention. Not only did I remember them, but I had been one of the trio to put them away. Contaminated pudding had given half a dozen folks at the nursing home superpowers. Instead of being responsible, they went on a bender. I could still smell the baby powder and Bengay on my hands.
“I think I read about them.” Lying was not my strong suit. In fact, it might be my least favorite thing about having powers. The multiple personalities weren’t bad, but keeping it a secret? I managed. Reluctantly.
“How are you holding up?”
I studied his face. Anybody who thought he asked a harmless question hadn’t spent the last seven hours watching him interrogate. It wasn’t the question that made it dangerous; it was the silence that followed. I thought I hated sitting in uncomfortable silence, but it appeared everybody shared that trait.
I turned back to the paper, letting it linger. It might as well be nails on a chalkboard. Without a doubt, I’d break before him. This was a game of chicken I couldn’t win. Staring at the paperwork covered in sticky notes, I felt exhausted. That, coupled with my worry about the deal with Carmen, made everything feel as if it hung in limbo.
“I’m fine.”
“How about you tell me the truth?” He didn’t miss a beat as he called me out on the lie.
“You must be a lot of fun at poker.”
He flashed a grin. “Play your cards right, and you might find out.”
My jaw hung open, and my expression must have been borderline comical. His voice held the same even tone as the interview room, which only made it funnier.
“Bad puns? Really?”
He shrugged.
It wasn’t that Booker had a charming personality. He did, but he had this knack for knowing just the right thing to say to shift the tension in the room. He walked throughconversations like a savant. Did he have a natural ability, or had he learned this while working for the government? Saying I was jealous would be the understatement of the century.
“I’m a bit… tired.”
His hand rested on my knee. Three fingers. They rested on the edge of my knee, far enough onto my thigh to get my attention, but not enough to be sexual harassment. I tried to ignore the electricity of the touch and the way it made the hair on my neck stand on end. In that moment I wanted?—
Nothing. I took a deep breath. The fatigue vanished, and I couldn’t help but daydream about what I’d do with this second wind. I let the worry about impressing Ricardo and Arthur escape from my lungs. The fear of Carmen rejecting our proposal didn’t even register. His hand on my knee was the only thing I could focus on.
“Let’s report in with Ms. Keyes and call it a day.”
I gestured to the dossier with names. “There are still so many. How do they have this many employees?”
The anxiety fought its way into my voice. With a tight grip on my leg, it vanished. If I hadn’t seen him at work, I’d say it was a coincidence. After a day of watching him work, Booker knew exactly what he was doing to distract me.
“You can’t draw from an empty well.” He patted my leg before leaning back. “We’re in this for the long game.”
“Yes, we are,” I mumbled. Now if only he’d put his hand back on my knee. Maybe a little higher.
“Grab your notes. I can assure you, she’s not going to be pleased.”
Fifteen minutes of silence.
Ms. Keyes read through our notes. I couldn’t tell if she was angry, intrigued, or just irked that we wasted her precious time. She flipped pages, and the scrape of paper in the folder made my skin crawl. Booker’s knee bounced as it had in the lobby. This time, his fingers clenched the khaki material as if the steadiest man I had ever met was preparing to lose his cool.
