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"Elena."

"Don't bully a confession out of me."

"I don't bully."

She laughs. "You literally have men stationed outside my apartment."

"For your protection."

"You threatened one because he let me walk twenty feet ahead of him."

"He wasn't paying attention."

"He was tying his shoe."

"He should buy loafers."

She laughs again, and something inside me finally unclenches.

I touch her face.

This time, she leans into my hand.

The movement is small enough that another man might miss what it means.

I'm not another man.

"I don't need you to say it tonight," I tell her.

Her gaze searches mine. "No?"

"No."

"That sounds dangerously mature."

"I can take it back."

She stands before I can move away.

Her hands settle against my chest.

"I am still angry with you."

"I know."

"I still think you were wrong."

"I know."

"And if you ever shoot another witness while I'm questioning him, I might shoot you."

"Where?"

She blinks. "What?"

"If you're going to shoot me, I'd like to know where."

"Somewhere painful."