Zach ignored Hunter’s gibe. “I can’t shake the feeling that Cárdenas’s interest in her has to do with something she’s working on at the paper. I looked through her files when we moved them—”
“You looked through my files?” Natalie’s voice came from behind them.
Zach looked over his shoulder to find her standing at the base of the stairs, wearing purple plaid pajamas, looking both sexy and unmistakably pissed off, her hair tousled, her gaze boring through him, her lips a grim line.
“Shit.”That was Rossiter.
Hunter gave a low whistle. “Dude—you looked through her files?”
Darcangelo stood. “I think it’s time for us to go.”
“YOU CAN’T JUST look through a reporter’s files no matter who you are.” Natalie poured hot water into a mug, set the kettle back on the stove, and pushed past him to reach for a bag of Darjeeling.
“In case you’ve forgotten, there are men out there who are trying very hard to kill you. I’m trying to figure out why so I can keep you safe.”
Turning her back on him, she dropped the tea bag into the water, picked up the mug, and walked to the table, so angry she could spit. “Even if we were investigating the same thing—which we arenot—you’d have to get a court order before I’d be compelled to share the files with you.”
“A court order? You really expect me to waste time getting a court order when I’m trying save your life?”
“No.” Of course, she didn’t. “But Idoexpect you to ask.” If he’d been her lover, she wouldn’t have been as angry. But he’d made it clear he wasn’t, that he needed a degree of professional distance from her now. If professional distance was what he needed, she would give it to him.
“I wasn’t trying to sneak behind your back or violate your space. You were in the hospital at the time.”
“Then you should’ve waited. You wouldn’t want me snooping through your files, would you?” She looked down at her tea, realized she’d forgotten sugar and milk. She stood and walked back into the kitchen, avoiding his gaze.
“That’s different. I’m a federal operative. I have access to classified information, secrets that could get people killed, stuff no one is allowed to see.”
She whirled about to face him. “And I’m a journalist. My job is—”
Dizziness swamped her. She reached for the counter, granite cool beneath her palm as she fought to not faint.
Strong hands caught her shoulders, held her steady. “You need to calm down and take it easy.”
“Don’t touch me.” She drew away from him, hugged her way along the counter, then sank into a chair, her head still spinning.
“What did you want?”
“What do you mean?” She didn’t understand.
“When you came back this way—what did you come for?”
It took her a moment. “Milk and sugar.”
He brought both, together with something else she’d forgotten—a spoon. He set all three in front of her.
“Thank you.” No matter how angry she was, she couldn’t forfeit her manners.
“You’re welcome.” He sat down across from her. “This isn’t about me looking through your files. It’s about what I said this afternoon. It’s about the two of us.”
His words cut through her anger, left her perilously close to tears. Fighting to hold herself together, she stirred milk and sugar into her tea, then set the spoon aside and held the warm mug between her palms.
“When I woke up in the hospital and saw you there, I thought . . . I thought you’d come back for me, that you’d changed your mind.” She’d thought that maybe her brush with death had made him realize he cared about her enough to stop running and to face his PTSD. But the explosion hadn’t changed a thing. He was still running. “But you’re just here to do a job. You didn’t come back for me. You came for the Zetas.”
“You know that’s not true.” There was a defensive edge to his voice, and she could tell she’d hurt him.
“Since you’re on assignment now, maybe you should be out on the streets instead of babysitting me.” She sipped, burned her tongue. “Maybe someone else with less experience dealing with the Zetas—another DUSM or maybe one of your new special deputies—should stay here with me, while you hunt down this Quintana.”
“I’m here and not on the streets because I don’t trust anyone else to keep you safe. Iamhere for you, Natalie. I care about you more than you know. But I’ve already told you—it won’t work.”