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“No, you didn’t, did you?” That fake smile was back.
“So, Davis, seems you’re not making any friends down there in Atlanta.”
His eyes shot up to Tony Samuels, who smiled smugly. “You been asking about me?”
“No, don’t have a reason to, also don’t care enough to invest the time in how you’re making out down there.”
“Then how would you know if I was making friends?”
“A couple of inquiries about you have been circulating. Seems your new team is curious about how you got along here. One just came through this morning from your chief. Mentioned you were an arrogant and nosy son of a bitch. The arrogant part I agreed with. I did tell him you never were the nosy type that I remembered. Maybe something about him got under your skin and had you putting your nose where it didn’t belong. You were always good at your job. Wouldn’t ever deny that.”
“I’m sure you could if given enough time.”
“You’re probably right. Well, we should get going. You two enjoy the rest of your evening.”
With a dip of his chin, he placed his hand on Stacy’s back and navigated her through the restaurant. Davis wasn’t surprised to see them in the same place. Although their dining choice for the evening was attached to their hotel, many locals enjoyed the food and frequented the place.
“Well, that was interesting.” Cassidy attempted humor, but Davis wasn’t in the mood. Not that he cared much about seeing Stacy, but he most certainly had an issue with his new colleagues reaching out to find information about his past in New York. Davis’s mood had shifted completely, and he was no longer interested in sharing a meal or company with anyone, even if it were Cassidy.
“I’m going to get the bill so we can head up. It’s getting late, and we have an early flight tomorrow.”
“Late?” She reared her head back in surprise. “It’s barely nine. I wouldn’t exactly call that late. Would you like to talk about the happy couple that just left? This abrupt ending to our evening seems to be attributed to the two of them.”
“Doesn’t have anything to do with them. Like I said—”
“Early flight. Got it.”
Davis flagged down the server and requested the bill, which he covered with cash before he and Cassidy made their way to the elevators and up to their floor. Their rooms were across from one another, so there was no way to avoid the tension-charged ride and silence that followed. Davis didn’t bother trying. Once they were at their doors, Cassidy hesitated. He noticed she kept peeking over her shoulder while he dug out a room key. She stopped him as soon as he held it to the magnetic lock, and the light flashed green.
“I don’t know what happened down there, but it really seems to be bothering you. It might help to talk about it.”
Davis glanced over his shoulder to find Cassidy with her back pressed against her room door. He turned and mirrored her position but crossed his legs at the ankle and slipped his hands into his pockets. He was still in his attire from earlier that day: slacks and a collared shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows.
Cassidy had elected to change out of her jeans, tee, and blazer into another pair of jeans and an oversized sweater, which hung off her shoulder. Davis couldn’t help but enjoy the visual of her soft brown skin, which taunted him. To the average person, they looked like any other people—but were anything but. He was a detective, and she was a suspect accused of killing her husband. He was investigating the case; she was navigating how to prove her innocence, and yet, at this very moment, their thoughts weren’t on any of those things. At least, Davis’s weren’t. He assumed her mind had also drifted based on the concern in her eyes as they fastened with his. This woman cared about his well-being. The one he’d just engaged downstairs only cared about imploding his happiness.
I’d have to be happy for her to do that.
“Well?” Cassidy pressed, pulling her lip between her teeth, worrying it a bit before she released it. “Want to talk about your ex?”
“Not particularly, but I will on one condition.”
Cassidy’s face tensed a little as her eyes narrowed slightly, her lids a bit hooded from the wine she’d enjoyed with dinner.
“You tell me about yours first.”
“My ex?”
Davis nodded.
“You already know everything I know. I’m not sure what else I can tell you about Niles . . .”
Davis shook his head gently as he closed the space between them, placing his palms flat against the door above Cassidy’s head, lowering his so he could see her eyes. “Not Niles. Lance Trent.”
Her lids fluttered, and her lips parted slightly before she found the words that struggled to surface. “What makes you think he’s my ex?”
Davis smiled lazily. “The way you just openly expressed your surprise at me asking about him is a surefire confirmation. Now, do we have a deal or not?”
“I . . . sure . . . We can talk about him, but I don’t understand why you think he’s relevant.”
