His lips twisted slightly. “Don’t tell me you’re surprised that other people don’t work twenty-four hours a day.”
She couldn’t help noting the sarcasm and feeling slightly defensive at the implication. “I don’t work twenty-four hours a day.”
He cocked an eyebrow as if he’d refute that statement, so she glanced away to remove the challenge. That was an argument she’d most assuredly lose. “I agree I work too much,” she admitted, “but there’s no need to exaggerate my hours to that degree.”
“From what I’ve seen, if you’re not working, you’re thinking about work. It’s sort of one and the same.”
“Excuse me?” she said. “You don’t even know me.”
He ignored her response. “What happened to your head?” he asked, indicating her stitches. “Were you in an accident?”
“Not exactly.”
“I’m guessing it wasn’t a bar fight, since I can’t see you even going into a bar.”
She folded her arms. “It was more like a prison fight.”
“You got into it with an inmate?”
“I was blindsided. Nothing I could do about it.”
His eyes slid down to the scar on her neck. “By one of the nut jobs you work with?”
“He isn’t a nut job. He knew exactly what he was doing.”
He scratched his neck. “You’re saying you were attacked. Again.”
She shrugged as if it hadn’t been a big deal, even though it sort of was. “Goes with the territory.”
With a shake of his head—in disgust?—he rested his hands on his lean hips. “God, no wonder you hate men.”
“I don’t hate men,” she argued. “You’ve just decided that you don’t like me because you don’t like what I’m doing.”
“I never said it was personal.” He gestured toward the building. “And I’m not the one who tore out the copper here and broke the windows, no matter what you think.”
“I would hope not, since you’re all I’ve got to rely on as far as bringing those who did it to justice.” Although there wasn’t any snow on the ground, the temperature was dropping significantly with nightfall. She buttoned her suit jacket to ward off the chill. “Anyway, you didn’t have to meet me tonight. You could’ve put it off.”
He shrugged. “I figured I might as well get it over with.”
Feeling rumpled after traveling for so long, she wished they had agreed to meet in the morning. She was worried about the extent of the damage, was eager to see it in case the reality might offset some of the worry, but she couldn’t deny possessing a certain amount of female vanity. She wanted Amarok to think she was pretty, and she could’ve made a better showing—but that was something she hadn’t been willing to kowtow to, hadn’t wanted to acknowledge.
It was harder to be so cavalier, however, now that they were face to face. “I’ll be quick so that you can get back to...to enjoying your evening, then.” She gestured toward the entrance. “Where’s the damage? I suppose it’s inside?”
“It’s everywhere. You just can’t see it from the front. No doubt whoever did it was afraid they’d be spotted if someone pulled in—from the construction crew or whatever.”
“Have you spoken to the construction crew? Did any of them see anyone they didn’t recognize, or anyone who was acting unusual?”
“’Fraid not. Every single one claims everything was fine when they finished up for the night on Wednesday. Thursday morning they arrived to discover the damage.”
“And called you.”
He dipped his head in response.
“Where’s the copper?”
“It was piled in back, but I had them take it inside. With all the windows broken in the office section, and no real divide between that and the prison section at the moment, ‘inside’ provides little protection, but...I figured it was better than doing nothing.”
Evelyn frowned as they entered what was finished of Hanover House so far. “Do you think they were planning to come back and pick it up?”
“If so, they haven’t. I hung out here for quite a while last night, hoping they would.”
“That was nice of you,” she said.
He caught and held her gaze even though she was reluctant to let him. “I’ll take that as your apology for accusing me in the first place.”
“I didn’t accuse you.” She lifted her chin in umbrage. “I just... I know how you feel about this place.”
“Because I’ve made it no secret,” he said pointedly. “But I’m not dumb enough to come out in open opposition and then sabotage the construction.”
Evelyn had been prepared for some damage but what she saw proved even more disheartening than she’d expected. He’d been right about the “c” word. The construction crew had focused on trying to get some of the plumbing back in and had left the more superficial damage for later, which meant the graffiti was right there for her to read. “Apparently, someone feels very strongly that I should die.” She forced a smile with that statement as if it didn’t bother her, but he hesitated as if he could tell it did.