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I hadn’t realized my tension was affecting him, but I didn’t have a way to make it better. “Listen, I get you aren’t here to kill me. In my head, I know that, and I believe it’s true. But my head also knows you’re an assassin, and you kill people for money.”
“Did. I’m retired, remember?”
His words were almost flippant, and I dismissed them. “Retired or not, it takes a special kind of person to kill for a living. Everything inside me tells me you’re dangerous and you could turn on me in the blink of an eye. Friend to foe. And if we are on opposite sides in a fight, I know I’m dead. It makes a person tense. Not to mention all the other things I have to be stressed out about right now. It’s not all you. If anyone figures out who I am, I’m dead.”
Steel watched me with serious eyes. “I can’t say if we were on opposite sides that I wouldn’t kill you. I’ll do whatever I have to do. But if it makes you feel any better, I don’t want to kill you. Friend or foe.”
His words did make some of the tension ease, but not much. I nodded. “Thank you.”
Before either of us could say more, the door opened and Gabby’s sister, Kasha, appeared. We went back into interrogation mode. This time I watched Steel, knowing that neither woman was behind the theft. I studied Steel instead, trying to glean as much information about him as I could.
It wasn’t easy. His face was hard, like a mask, and he didn’t leak any of his thoughts or emotions on his face. He was focused on the task at hand, and he kept himself guarded otherwise. I could see he had incredible focus and was detail-oriented. His eyes were one of his biggest tools. I had seen him quell some of the crew with his glare. If he softened his gaze and widened his eyes a little, he could put them at ease just as easily.
Beyond that, I didn’t glean much. Mostly, I confirmed what I already knew. His movements were graceful. Everything he did was precisely controlled. His hands were quick, and I think they moved more on instinct than actual conscious commands. He always looked ready to move, to pounce, to defend himself. I could see the military training in him. Hemusthave been special ops. Killing people had most likely been his job in the military and that had carried over when he was discharged. I didn’t like it, didn’t think it was right, but I could understand it at least. If he was trained by the military to do one specific thing, it would be incredibly hard to suddenly be out of the military with your one mission in life taken away.
Kasha left, and I gave up my study of him. All I could do was keep myself on his good side and be wary of him. My instincts still proclaimed him as the most dangerous person I knew and to run from him, but that wasn’t a possibility, so I had to force myself beyond my instincts.
The next crew member came in and sat down. He folded his hands in his lap, but he moved them around as though he was nervous. I could see a touch of fear in his eyes, but not as much as some of the others. His height and barrel-chested physique lent him an imposing air. He had a lot of facial hair, and his beard hung down a good three inches below his chin and was unkempt. Shifty eyes moved around the room, catching my attention. Something seemed off with this one.
Steel watched him shift around in his seat. “Bozeman? That’s what you go by?”
The man glanced at Steel before looking away. He leaned back and folded his arms. “Yeah. What’s this about?”
“Where are you from, Bozeman?”
He seemed surprised by the question. “What?”
Steel’s eyes narrowed in impatience. “Where are you from?”
“Esmuna. Here.”
I watched his face closely, trying to establish a baseline for his emotions. I needed to see how he would react while telling the truth before I could determine how he behaved differently when he was lying. Steel tapped a finger against the table. “Are you from Concordia?”
Bozeman grunted in affirmation.
“Your file says you joined Emerson’s crew about a year ago. Why this crew?”
He looked confused now. “The captain was hiring.” He shrugged, as though the answer was an obvious one.
“Do you like working for the captain?”
“Sure. As much as anyone.” His eyes danced away, and he shifted in his chair and lifted a hand to scratch his nose, after which he swiped the hand over his hair. My eyebrows slid upwards in surprise at the cluster of behaviors.
Before Steel could ask another question, I scratched my jaw. His eyes flickered to me, and he seamlessly readjusted his line of questioning. “How well do you get along with the rest of the crew?”
Bozeman frowned, obviously still confused by the questions. “What? Fine, I guess.”
“Do you stick mostly to yourself?”
Again, he shrugged. “I suppose so. What is all this about?”
Steel’s eyes narrowed. “Do you think Captain Emerson is fair to the crew?”
I leaned forward, anxious to hear his answer. He blinked again, and his eyes shifted back to the wall. “Well,” he paused, this time giving a half-shrug, “I mean, sure. You know. As fair as a mercenary can be.”
He may not have stalled much, but he used a lot of filler words, and the half-shrug was just as telling. Those were all signs of stress or deception. However, the wording he chose was a dead giveaway. My instincts said he was qualifying his answers when he lied. I leaned back, and Steel and I exchanged silent looks.
Steel’s face hardened when he turned back to Bozeman. “Were you part of the team that unloaded the shipment from theHawkto the warehouse?”
