Wendy Etherington - A Breath Away

“Feel free to give away all our secrets,” Jade said. As if Tremaine needed another specialty.

The men rose.

“Well, boss, he’s one of us, right?” Mo said, his massive size contrasting sharply with his contrite expression. “I figured—”

“No, he’s not.” Her gaze flicked to Tremaine, who—naturally—smiled. “He’s a client, not a member of this team.”

“But you have to admit, I’m not your usual client,” Tremaine said.

“You’re unusual, all right. And that’s not a compliment,” she added when his grin widened. “Okay, people. We have a new development. The local cops are giving us an opportunity to check out the scene, so David and I will go.”

“And me,” Tremaine added.

“You’ll stay here with Mo and Frank, order lunch from room service and pretend to be traumatized.”

“A wonderfully humiliating picture, but, no, I won’t.”

Did the man live to annoy just her, or was it everyone who didn’t let him run them over?

“I don’t mind keeping an extra-sharp eye on him,” David said.

Jade raised her eyebrows. “Do you usually keep a less than sharp eye on our clients?”

He flushed. “Ah, well, no.”

Tremaine approached her, and her pulse immediately, embarrassingly, sped up. “Are you telling me if you’d been shot, you’d let somebody else examine the scene?”

He knew perfectly well she wouldn’t.

“And you did promise you’d find a way to let me out.”

“I was thinking of a stroll down to the lobby,” she said incredulously, “not to the scene of your near death.”

“I need your help,” he said, staring down at her, “not for you to run my life.”

The sincerity gleaming from his silver eyes made her instantly suspicious. This was an act for the crowd. He’d shift to ruthlessness without a qualm if it would facilitate getting his way.

“My team gets to vote on the direction of cases. Clients don’t.”

“Well, you’re just going to have to make an exception this time, aren’t you?”

“The team votes. Guys?”

Grumbling and mumbling ensued, all of which fell in Tremaine’s favor.

“Fine. I know when I’m outnumbered.” She forced her anger to the pit of her stomach. It was an ego thing, after all. She wanted her way, and the others didn’t agree. She was arrogant, but not stupid. She knew Tremaine, unlike other clients, could handle himself, even though she knew she’d have to constantly remind him who was in charge.

“I don’t like it.” She crossed her arms over her chest and cocked her head. “But it’s your funeral.” She smiled.

“I was sort of hoping to avoid that.”

“Mmm, well, Frank has gotten your signature on the standard security protection release, hasn’t he?”

“I don’t think so.”

“He will before we leave.” She turned back to the bedroom. She wanted to splash some water on her face. “Which we do in fifteen minutes.”

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