Page 37 of Hard Pass

“You avoided.”

The muscle in his jaw pulses as he holds my stare. And then very calmly, very evenly, he turns back to Josie and says, “Let’s continue.”

But his eyes flick to mine for half a second longer than necessary . . . like this isn’t just about the investigation anymore.

What, Valor? Why did you give me your focus when it’s needed elsewhere?

And why did it make my heart skip a beat?

CHAPTER NINE

Dublin

Josie clicks the door shut behind her as she leaves. And just like that, without a buffer between us, the conference room suddenly feels like a powder keg once again.

“So,” he says, dragging the word out as he leans back in his chair, arms folded loosely across his chest. “That was fun.”

I don’t take the bait. Instead, I take my time closing the folder in front of me, aligning the edges with more care than necessary before lifting my gaze to meet his.

“It’s clear she knows what she’s doing. She had a lot of good advice. I’m sure if you follow it, it’ll help,” I say professionally.

His mouth quirks but there isn’t any humor behind it. “So glad you were here to tell me what would help.”

Yep, he’s definitely pissed off now.

He pushes to his feet in one smooth movement. The chair scrapes quietly behind him as he steps closer, closing the distance in a way that feels intentional. “Funny how you’re the only new variable in my life and somehow everything blows up the second you show up.”

“Everything? Last I checked, I wasn’t the one responsible for your on-field performance nor your arm,” I say, meeting his gaze without flinching.

His laugh is hollow and sarcastic. “Wow.” He pretends to put a dagger in his heart. “Going straight for the jugular with that one.”

“Just stating facts.”

“Facts? More like you’re trying to reassign blame because someone leaked your investigation, and you’re too goddamn perfect for it to possibly be you.”

The anger is there and it’s warranted. I had no right to say what I said, and yet—

“Is that what this is?” he asks, head tilted slightly and eyes sharpening as he looks at me like he just put something together. “You’re here on crisis media training when how I handle this is none of your damn business because you’re trying to clean up your own mess?”

My stomach tightens. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yeah, you do.” His voice drops, loses some of its bite but gains what sounds like resolve. He studies me for a beat and for the first time, I struggle not to look away. “You don’t think I did this, do you?”

I don’t respond because I almost say yes.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” he says, watching me closely now. “You don’t think I’m guilty, but now the whole world does, so you’re trying to play both sides. Do your job while making sure you don’t look like the one who screwed me over.”

I refuse to be bullied by this man, even if I understand his anger.

“My job requires me to operate on data and facts and interviews and those are what matters most.”

“Bullshit.”

“I won’t stand here and be disrespected, Cole.”

He chuckles. The asshole.

“Right. That going in your report too?”