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The door shuts behind us. The warm summer air tickles my skin.
“Mr. Master?—”
“Call me Cain.”
Skipping the formalities so soon. Interesting. “Cain. That’s a unique name. I’ve only known one other man with a name like that, but he spelled it differently.” The son of one of my foster parents.
“You’ve looked up my name.”
“Of course.” I am not going to lie to him unless I have to.
A shadow crosses his features for a split second before he grows serious. “You don’t hear the name Violet every day either.”
“My name was supposed to be Angela, but when my mother saw my eyes, she changed her mind.”
“You were born with eyes that color, then?”
A curious question. It shouldn’t please me that he’s noted the color of my eyes. Everyone notices them, butheseems the type that only notices you if it matters.
“Yes.”
We walk in silence down a path made of stones that leads past the garden to the barn or shed or whatever it is.
“I’m not going to waste your time, Mister—Cain. You own a private investigation agency.”
He walks with his hands in his pockets, which might look casual but really only serves to make the muscles along his arms and neck bulge that much more.God.
“Depends on who you ask.”
I have to walk faster to keep up with his long strides. I’m falling behind him. For one brief, crazy moment, I’m tempted to smack his back and tell him to slow down. “What do you mean?”
He shrugs a large shoulder and scowls at the path in front of him. “I don’t advertise.”
“And yet, I’d hazard a guess you’re booked through next year.”
“And then some.”
We walk in silence for another moment while I try to formulate a plan to tell him what I need.
“I don’t have the kind of money you’d ask for, but… I could barter.”
Why did it sound so much better in my head?
He stops walking long enough to give me an amused smirk. “I don’t need homemade soap or homegrown tomatoes.” Another rude glance down at me. “And you’re right. You can’t afford my company.” I know he means I can’t afford to hire him, but the way he says it makes it sound like I’m not worthy of being in hispresence. I bite the inside of my cheek so I don’t tell him off, grounding myself in the stab of pain.
Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
My cheeks heat. I decide the best course of action is to ignore the taunt. “We could help each other. A mutually beneficial situation. I mean, I—I have talents and skills that could benefit your organization, and I could benefit from what you have to offer as well.”
He sighs. “Don’t waste my time. To be honest, I’m not even sure this consultation is something you could afford, but it’s warm out and I needed some fresh air. I’d be charging most people by the hour for this discussion alone, but I’m taking pity on you.” He looks down at my crumpled dress and faded purse. My skin prickles uncomfortably, but before I can respond he continues. “You’re already talking about collaboration, and I don’t even know why you’re here.”
I won’t rise to take his bait, Iwon’t.But God, my temper’s a beast, and it’s hard to keep it on a leash sometimes.
“I—I need help finding a few people, and I believe you could help me.”
Still scowling, he doesn’t respond, so naturally I feel the need to keep talking, because that always helps.
“I’m skilled in martial arts. I’m reigning champion on the East Coast?—”
