Page 83 of Property of Whiskey

“Who?”

“No.”

I jerk the chain hard enough to make metal slap concrete.

“You said anything.”

“I said I’d answer what I can.”

“You said ask.”

“Same difference.”

“It is absolutely not the same difference.” I glare at him.

He continues before I can insult him. “You went to that old complex alone.”

“I’m a deputy. I had my weapon.”

“You had a weapon. I have it now.” His gaze drops deliberately toward the chain between us.

I follow it despite myself.

“I didn’t know Kaylee would be there.”

“But somebody knew you might.”

Cold works its way down my spine. I don’t show it. “I can protect myself.”

Whiskey looks at the cuffs.

“Yeah.”

“Fuck you.”

“See, that argument works better when you ain’t chained up.”

“I was outnumbered.”

“You were outsmarted.”

“I will bite you again.”

“There’s that hunger for me.”

I yank on the chain just to hear metal scrape.

His smile disappears. “Twila.”

“What?”

“This part ain’t funny.”

“Then stop making jokes.”

He leans forward.

“You showed up at a place where somebody had a bleeding girl restrained. You had no backup. Nobody at your department knew what you were walking into, but whoever followed your questions sure as hell knew you were digging.” Something changes in Whiskey’s posture at that. Not much, but the argument eases out of him enough that I notice.