Page 30 of A Matter of Time

I grimaced.

“What’s with that?”

I tried to smile. “Sorry?”

“Don’t say you’re sorry when you’re not. What’s with the flinching? Whaddya think I’m gonna ask, for crissakes?”

“Something horrible.”

He squinted at me. “Nice.”

“It’s like navigating a minefield,” I muttered as we reached the SUV.

The car alarm chirped as the door opened, and I climbed in. I leaned over to crack his door for him and then buckled in before he barked at me.

“Why don’t you have a fuckin’ jacket?” he asked me curtly.

I shrugged. “I do, it’s just not super cold yet. It’s a pain in the ass to carry it to the club, check it, and then remember to get it after.”

“So getting pneumonia is more your speed?”

“Detective, did you know that disease is actually caused by germs and not the cold?”

“Funny,” he said flatly.

I leaned my head back and got comfortable. My phone rang, and it was Kevin, so I let it go to voicemail. Taylor called, and then Nick, but I didn’t feel like talking. It was warm in the car, and with both of us silent, I started to doze. When my phone rang again, I put it on vibrate.

“That thing ever stop ringing?”

“Mmmm,” I answered him, half-awake.

“You’re popular, huh?”

I grunted as he pulled the car out into the street. He got on his phone, and I listened absently as he talked about times and dates. It was hard to imagine the life of a police detective. I wondered what it was like to have a job that could never be walked away from.

The car was warm, the ride was smooth, and there was the low hum of the tires on the road. I lost track of time.

“Jory.”

I felt the backs of his fingers slide up my throat, and I realized the car had stopped.

“Shit, sorry.” I took a breath, sitting up. Hard to know how long I’d been asleep. “I’m crap in cars. I always pass out.”

“Me too, if I’m not driving,” he said softly.

“Thanks,” I muttered, my voice husky as I opened the door to get out.

“Hey.”

I looked back at him.

“Watch yourself, all right?”

I nodded.

“You’re an idiot for not going into the program.”

“I don’t want a new identity, Detective. I⁠—”