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I let the question roll around in my head, then I reply honestly, “Without a pinkie, a man’s gripping strength is at least halved. It reduces threat. My papa taught me that.”
“What the—” He curses, gently. “What kind of a father teaches their child that?”
“A good one.” I cool my expression. “Mama barely survived having me, so my parents knew I’d be their only heir. They knew the kind of world I’d be growing up in. They didn’t want anyone able to take advantage of me, so they taught me what I needed to know.” I lay my hand over his on the desk. “They taught me everything that has brought me this far.”
Silence gapes between us as he searches my eyes. For several, thundering moments, it feels like he can see right through me, into the depths of…everything.
And I can’t stand it.
Turning my head off his curled finger, I drop my chin and stand. Tucked between the desk and his body, I manage a breath. “Since you’re withholding my reward, I guess I’ll go.”
His arms close around me before I get a chance to slip by.
My nerves ignite.
Something deep in my gut revolts at the idea of him—of anyone—offering me comfort when I haven’t intentionally manipulated such a response out of them, but I can’t stop myself from lingering in the sensation of his strength.
“We’ll find them,” he says, tone gruff, rumbling against my ear.
His warmth seeps into my veins. His scent—leather and ink and the sharp prick of aftershave—surrounds me.
“We’ll find them and make whoever is behind this pay.”
It hurts to swallow as tension trickles from my limbs, leaving me more helpless than I’ve ever been in front of one of my marks. “You were born into the wrong shadows, Rowan,” I whisper. “You should have been a billionaire CEO. Fewer fingers to contemplate removing. More charitable tax deductions.”
His voice rumbles in a hum against every exposed part of my flesh. “The two notable differences.”
Raising my hand, I try to push him away, but my fist closes around his shirt instead, holding him steady. “Do you trust me now?”
“You could have told me your plans. We could have hunted down Granger’s lackey sooner.”
A humorless laugh escapes me. “You’re so single-minded.” Looking up, I meet his eyes and smile. “Did you have fun?”
His face twists. “Before or after you put my organs in a blender on the teacups ride?”
“Oh, during, obviously.”
His eyes close as he contemplates, no doubt mulling over every detail of the entire day and packing each event into a mental spreadsheet. At last, breath leaves him, and he says, “I’m fond of the noise-canceling earbuds.”
I bite my lip to keep from laughing. This dear sweet man. “That’s all you liked?”
His eyes open. “The rest of the experience was an unequivocal nightmare.”
“Clearly, you are the opposite of a thrill-seeker. Knitting clubs are too crazy for you. You’d complain that the yarn is too abrasive and put rubber guards on the needles.”
His frown loses all its ire. Separating himself from me, he untangles my hand from his shirt and places it back at my side. “Are you done?”
“I could go on.” But I’m tired. So very tired. And I don’t know why it’s suddenly so very, very cold. “But I’ll spare you if you let me say good night to Bugsy before I head home.”
He drops back into his chair. “Sure.”
Ignoring the chill working its way under my skin, I head toward the door.
“Briar.” Rowan’s voice stops me once my hand’s on the knob.
I don’t bother looking back. “Yes?”
“No more games. From now on, we’re partners. If you have information, we have information.”
