Page 51 of Unlocked

"What are you doing?"

"Calling Rush. We need to secure that room before anyone else finds the body." He glanced at her. "And we need to get out of here before someone puts us at the scene."

She nodded, but her hands were shaking, a clue that the adrenaline still burned through her system. It wouldn’t be long before she crashed, and he wanted her away from here when that happened.

They walked quickly back to the car. Archer kept his hand on her back, kept her close, eyes scanning for threats in every direction. As they drove through the city, he glanced over at her. She stared out the window, jaw set, still radiating anger.

Someone had just killed Timothy Lebowitz right in front of them. Someone methodical and prepared and completely unafraid. And Tatum had run straight toward them without a second's hesitation.

His chest tightened.

This wasn't over. Not even close.

And keeping Tatum safe was going to be a hell of a lot harder than he'd thought.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Tatum slammed the apartment door behind her harder than she intended. The sound echoed through the space, sharp and final. She kicked off her boots, the PVC leather pants suddenly feeling too tight, too hot, too much.

Archer entered and moved past her into the living room, his movements controlled. Too controlled. She could see the tension in his shoulders, the set of his jaw. He was furious.

Good. So was she.

"You want to tell me what the hell that was?" he said, his voice quiet. Dangerous.

"What what was?" Tatum yanked the wig off and dropped it on the counter, then started working on the prosthetics. "Me doing my job?"

"Your job?" Archer turned to face her, and the look in his eyes made her stomach clench. "You ran after a cold-blooded killer, Tatum.”

"I had a chance to catch them."

"You had a chance to get yourself killed."

She peeled the fake nose off and dropped it next to the wig. "But I didn't."

"By sheer luck."

"No," she snapped, rounding on him. "By skill. By training. By the time I’ve spent time at the gun range. By the black belt I’ve earned in taekwondo. By knowing what I was doing."

"You were reckless."

"I was doing what needed to be done." She crossed her arms over her chest, anger burning hot in her veins. "You would have done the same thing."

"That's different."

"How?" she demanded. "How is it different?"

"Because I can handle myself."

"And I can't?" Her voice rose despite her efforts to keep it level. "Is that what you think? That I'm some delicate flower who needs protecting?" Of all the misogynistic, chauvinistic… She didn’t need this.

He glared at her. "That's not what I said."

"It's what you meant." She moved past him into the living room, needing space, needing to move before she did something stupid. Like scream. Or throw something. Or kick his ass. "I've been doing this for weeks, Archer. Alone. Without backup. Without you hovering over me, telling me what I can and can't do. I have pored over every page. I’ve spoken to countless people who were ripped off. I want justice for them. They deserve it."

"And look where all that got you," he said, his voice hard. "Your apartment destroyed. A target on your back. Two men dead."

That stopped her.