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Chaz tossed back his whiskey and slammed the glass to the table. “I won’t hurt her,” he lied desperately.
“Not on purpose, perhaps. That doesn’t change the fact that you have become a hard man, aruthless man. Hard, ruthless men can crush tender young things beneath their boot heels without even realizing it.”
“Not Shayne.”
“Let us hope not.” Rafe fingered the folder on his desk. “There’s one other subject I wish to address before she joins us.”
Damn it all! “What now?”
“Relax, McIntyre. It’s simply an offer.”
“Fine. Say what you need to and let’s end this farce.”
“My investigator has turned up quite a lot of interesting information.”
“And?”
Rafe looked at him. “And if you ever need my help, you have only to ask.”
Chaz released his breath in a harsh sigh. He could take insult at the suggestion. Hell, it would be easy. He could allow his pride and anger to drive him to offer the sort of physical response he’d been longing to since he’d first set eyes on Rafe Beaumont. Didn’t his hands ache to curl into fists and pummel something?
Instead, he stood and leaned across the desk, offering the hand of friendship to his brother-in-law.
“Thanks,” he said, and meant it. “I’ll do that.”
