“I don’t know him,” she argued.
“He’s a good guy. He’s funny.”
Stina gave him an appraising look like she was searching for this humor her friend spoke of. Then, finding no evidence of said sense of humor, she wrinkled her nose.
“I’m not going with him.”
“Stina.” Jolie sounded as if she was losing patience with her friend too. “He’s nice. He’s like everyone’s big brother. Most importantly…he’ll keep you safe.”
Rome listened to Jolie’s endorsement of his character, his amusement mingling with annoyance. Big brother? Ha. He was the guy who put everyone on their ass in training. The guy who cleared buildings and was sent into the toughest ops because Cannon trusted him to come out alive.
Big brother made him sound like he carried snacks and gave pep talks.
Stina lowered her voice and turned slightly away from him, as if that would keep him from hearing her. “Then send that guy because I don’t think this is Rome.”
He sighed. “I’m Rome.”
Jolie laughed, which made Stina’s eyes narrow. “It’s really him. Trust him, Stina. Please. I’ll explain everything later, but right now you need to go where he tells you.”
Her mouth tightened in a way that made Rome think she might argue with Jolie too. Instead she grabbed her purse and folded the remainder of the pizza slice into a napkin with the seriousness of someone collecting evidence.
She stood and followed him to the vehicle. The second he pulled away from the curb she leaned forward and pointed. “Quick right and we can grab my stuff from my apartment.”
He kept driving.
“Okay, next right. Make the block.”
“We’re not going to your apartment.”
She turned in the seat. Streetlights panned over her face. “I need clothes, Rome. And a toothbrush. And underwear, unless your top-secret war room has a gift shop.”
“I’ll get you what you need.”
“Including underwear?”
“Including underwear.”
She made a sound between a laugh and a scoff. “I don’t think we’re on a friendly enough level for you to buy me underwear. You don’t even know if I wear a thong or bikinis.”
She was trying to get a reaction out of him. He should ignore it. He knew better.
He glanced at her full hips cradled by the leather seat. “Bikinis.”
Silence hung between them.
Then she twisted to look at her backside. “Do I have visible panty lines?”
“No.” He returned his attention to the road, regretting ever participating in that conversation. Somehow she was rattlinghim more than armed suspects, and that was unacceptable on every level.
She settled back with an offended huff. “For the record, that was invasive.”
“For the record, you brought it up.” He took another turn, checked the rearview mirror…
And tracked that the sedan had been behind them for three blocks. It continued straight at the next light.
“If you’ll just stop at my place, I’ll stay in the car. It will take you five minutes.”
“No.”
