“No. I have built rapport with them. They trust me. They don’t know you. If you’re with me, then I fear they won’t talk even to me.”
Greer pressed his lips together, rejecting her decision. She reached over and touched his forearm. Her hand was cool, her fingers long, her nails neat, topped by white crescents.
“Please. We’ll get more flies with honey than a show of force.”
“What makes you think I have no finesse?”
“Besides the way you’re looking at me now?” She pulled her hand away. “You’re kind of scary, Greer. If you want to find out about Sally, this is the way to do it.”
He nodded and got to his feet. “May I have these graphs?”
His request surprised her. “Sure. But please don’t share them. I haven’t published them yet.”
Greer shook his head. “I’m not in competition with you, doc. You do your thing, I’ll do mine.”
The professor also stood. “And what is your thing?”
“Finding Sally.”
“And other than that? It can’t be your full-time job.”
Greer folded the sheets of paper she gave him. “I’ll tell you all my secrets if you have dinner with me.” He grinned, pleased he’d kept the offer so clean when his thoughts of her were anything but.
“Well, I am kind of hungry.” She smiled reluctantly, then frowned. “I don’t think I had lunch today.”
“There a good steakhouse around here?”
“We have several. My fav is J’s.”
“Then J’s it is. My treat.”
He waited while she gathered her papers into a neat stack, then packed them into her briefcase. She closed her laptop and added it. They stepped into the hall. She shut off the lights, then locked her office.
They didn’t speak as they went down the stairs. Out of habit, Greer went first. His SUV was parked in the almost empty lot, near the building. “Want to go in my car? Or shall I follow you? The restaurant could be packed.” He looked at his watch. “It’s prime feeding time. We might not want to take two cars.”
“You can drive. If you don’t mind.”
He opened the passenger door for her. “I don’t.”
She was looking around the interior of his SUV when he got in on the driver’s side. “It’s lighter in here than I thought it would be with all the window tinting. It’s kind of gangsta.”
Greer grinned. “I’m a gangsta kinda guy, I guess.”
Her smile evaporated. “Are you?”
He looked at her as he backed up. “Yeah.”
“Are you into illegal things?”
Greer released a long breath. “I’ll tell you true, doc, when I find Sally, I’m gonna lay down some heads.”
“What if the people she’s with meant well?”
He shrugged. “Don’t matter. She’s underage, in an isolationist community. Whether she went there of her volition or was brought there by whomever she’s hooked up with, makes no difference. She isn’t old enough to make that decision. I told her I would help her. She should have come to me.”
He chanced a glance at the professor. He’d told Sally while she was in the hospital getting the drugs flushed from her system that he’d protect her. And he hadn’t. So yeah, he felt as if he’d let his own sister down.
And Christ, he couldn’t take on much more karmic debt than the load he was already carrying. He was going to find Sally and move her someplace safe.
Unbidden, the ghost eyes from his dream came to mind. Hell was waiting for him. For sure. But he wasn’t going anywhere until he found Sally.
*
At the restaurant, Remi fought to keep things together. Greer was one of the most exciting men she’d ever met. Intense, charming, sexy as hell. His ripped body probably had zero percent body fat, which made her self-conscious about her own curves. He smiled easily and joked frequently, but none of that hid the sharp edge of his intellect.
The only thing she knew for sure was that he wasn’t what he seemed—a thing she decided to confront him about after they gave their orders to the waiter.
“I checked you out.”
He smiled. “Oh?”
She’d called the Department of Homeland Security—not using the number on his card but the one on their website. She’d vetted him before deciding to share any of her data. “When I called DHS, I was rerouted to a Christian Villa—” she paused on the name, wondering if he knew who she meant.
“—Villalobo? Interesting guy.”
“He vouched for you.”
“Phew. That’s a relief. What did Loco Lobo say?”
“That you were on a case, but nothing else. So I Googled you,” she said, spinning the base of her wine glass as she watched his eyes.
His half-smile curled one corner of his mouth. “Yeah? Good. Glad you did your due diligence.”
“I didn’t find anything other than someone with your name lives in Fairfax, Virginia. You don’t participate in social media.”
“No, I don’t. Nor should you. Social media data streams feed into databases that store your info. It’s how governments monitor you.”
“Ah. You’re a conspiracy theorist.”
“They aren’t theories.” He took out his wallet and tossed his Virginia driver’s license down in front of her. “I am from Virginia.”
She looked at his ID. “You’re younger than me.”
Greer retrieved his license and stowed it. “Not by much.”
True. She was only three years older than him. How did he know that? she wondered. “I could have babysat you when we were kids.”
He laughed at that. She watched in fascination as his entire face lit up, from his generous smile of big white teeth to those whiskey eyes of his. No, not whiskey. Cinnamon.
“I was never young enough for a babysitter.” He tilted his head and looked at her. “By the time you were old enough to babysit, I would have been guarding you.”
That set her back. She tried so hard to be normal, to pretend her childhood was as mainstream as any other American kid. Truth was, she could have used a guard. He seemed to know more about her than she was comfortable with.
She took a sip of her Shiraz, pleased she’d been able to do so without her hand shaking. She changed the subject.