Page 43 of Smoke Screen
This was it. Brave Maddy time. “What if I … liked … it? You touching me?”
There. Said it.Brave, brave, brave.She steeled herself, waiting for him to respond. Waiting for him to say something, anything, that would keep her from expecting too much of him.
“I’d say you should be pissed. But I liked it, too. I just don’t want to bethatguy. Taking advantage of a situation.”
Relief mixed with terror sent conflicting signals to her brain.He’s the one. Don’t go there.
It was happening. The spiral. A vision of Phin in a tux at an altar flashed.
She shook her head, the gesture simultaneously pulverizing the image while assuring Phin he wasn’t a predator. “You’re far from that guy. You’ve been kind, Phin. That’s all. Okay? Whatever that was between us, it felt good. And that’s saying something in my current situation. So, thank you. Maybe when we’re done with all this, we can … I don’t know … Explore it?”
He nodded. One solid jerk of his head. He liked that idea.
So did she.
“That’d be good,” he said. He pointed out the windshield. “Let’s do this before someone spots us.”
They exited the SUV, following the brick path around the side of the building where—uh, oh—Maddy halted.
One, two, three people held cameras and another small group of reporters stayed busy on their phones. At least until one woman looked up, spotted Maddy and beelined, bringing the pack with her.
“And so it begins,” Phin said, stepping partially in front of her, his long legs eating up the pavement. “Is the door unlocked?”
She dug into the outer pocket of her purse and grabbed her wristband with her keycard. “I have my card.”
The female reporter leading the charge shoved her microphone out. “Ms. Carmichael, what did the FBI ask you?”
“Ms. Carmichael,” another guy yelled, “what evidence do they have against you?”
Evidence against me? What?
No comment. That’s what Cilla had said. No comment. No comment. No comment.
Phin pushed through the crowd. “Coming through. Make a path, people.”
“Ms. Carmichael, did you have anything to do with the theft?”
They all screamed at her, each jockeying for position, their voices melding into awha, wha, whainside her head.
“No comment. No comment. No comment.”
How many times did she have to say it?
No.Comment.
Two feet from the door, Maddy lifted her keycard, ready to swipe it and breeze on inside.
Swipe.
She pulled on the door.
Nothing.
A red light on the keypad blinked.
For the love of …
She swiped again.
