Fuck! This woman is driving me crazy. What the hell? I never doubt myself, always trust that gut instinct of mine, and yet right now she’s making me question so many damn things, it’s not even funny.
And then there’s her little show with Omid. First, shocking the shit out of both of us when she piped into the conversation in his native language so that even if he was trying to be quiet and only share information with me in the little bit of Dari that I know, she understood every single thing he said. Add to that she takes a fucking picture of him. A picture! My trust quotient with her just went down a whole helluva lot. She was freelance. Her stunt begs me to question if she still is, or maybe she’s trying to chase the story too and will break it first, steal it right out from under me, and get the notoriety herself.
The more I think about this scenario, the more each bump along the uneven pavement lodges the idea firmly into my psyche. Pauly said she was freelance for a few weeks before I got here. Was she freelance as just a photog or as a reporter too? Was she just biding time to find some sorry fucking sap she could mooch off and steal what she didn’t earn?
“Tanner.” Her voice calls softly from the seat behind me, my name an apology and a question all mixed into one.
“Don’t talk,” I growl, my head spinning a mile a minute. The man who never gets rattled is fucking rattled, and not because of a goddamn mortar strike or IED but rather because of this woman. The only thing she has going for her at the moment is that at least she listens and shuts up.
This time.
We make it to the hotel without incident. I pay the driver and am out of the car and striding into the hotel without giving her a second glance. I know she’s safe since we’re at the hotel but couldn’t care less what she does now. She thinks chivalry is dead… I’ll show her just how dead it is. Let her fend for herself in this godforsaken place.
Anger and theories fuel my every step as I stride into the alleyway at the rear of the hotel where I had the driver drop us off. We have to forgo a lobby entrance because making one would mean we’d have to pass by Pauly and the crew who would know something was up since we were out and about rather than locked in our rooms.
All I focus on is calming my temper, but the clipped sound of her steps behind me echoes off the walls around us.
“Tanner. Tanner.” More footsteps. “Wait. Please. Wait!”
I ignore her, don’t want to deal with her, but when she grabs my biceps, I’m primed for the fight and ready to unload on her. I whirl around and have her back up against the wall within a heartbeat.
“You want the fucking story, you work for it your goddamn self.” My hands are on the sides of her shoulders, and my face is mere inches from hers. “You think you can waltz into my meet and take the fuck over?”
In an attempt to control my fury that’s spiraling out of control, I release my grip and stalk away from her a few feet. I’m loyal to a fault, so to feel betrayed is something I don’t take lightly. When I turn back around, Beaux’s shoulders are pressed against the wall, her eyes are wide, and her mouth is slightly open – shock written all over her face – and the words I’m about to shout die on my lips.
She looks like a frightened child.
It takes me a second to see through the haze of my fury to realize I’m fucking losing it. I’m standing with fists clenched and more angry than I’ve been in some time, wanting to throw a punch like she’s some damn guy. But I know beyond a doubt she’s so far from that, it’s comical.
I roll my shoulders and try to rein my emotions in because the woman makes me a goddamn lunatic. Add to that I don’t know what to say or do besides shake the truth out of her, and that’s not a fucking option.