Don’t argue, Noelle. Just do it.
“Excuse me?” is what comes out of my mouth. Fucking hell. “Go to my parents’? I’m not a child.”
“I know that, but you are a Catholic woman.”
“I’m an armed Catholic woman.”
He grabs my arm and drags me away from the scene, drawing the attention of a few officers, including Brody. My brother’s eyes narrow, and I wrench my arm away from Drake.
“Why do you have to argue on everything?” he asks me in a low voice. One that trembles with anger. “Why can’t you just do it?”
“Because you tell me what to do! Why don’t you ask me and explain why you want me to do it instead of ordering me around like I’m a five-year-old who needs to pick up their damn toys?” I want to stomp my foot, but that goes against my argument that I am not a five-year-old, doesn’t it?
“Have you ever thought I do it to keep you safe? That maybe I’m telling you to go to your parents’ because, despite your family’s eccentricities, I know you won’t get hurt there?”
Clearly, he’s forgotten the fucking parrot that’s in crazy in love with me.
“Then what the heck is wrong with saying, ‘Hey, you should probably go to your parents’ because I’m worried about you. If you need to go out, take your dad. I appreciate that you’re a strong, independent woman, but I need you to do this for me right now.’ Why is that so damn hard?”
His eye twitches. “Fine. Noelle, will you please go to your parents’ house? I’m worried that you’ll get hurt, but if you really need to leave, take your dad, okay? I need you to do this for me right now.”
“Oh, fuck you! Don’t mock me, Drake. That’s just insulting!” I need to leave right now before the HWPD have another body to deal with—his. “Here’s an idea. I’m going to go to my office, where I happen to have an ex-marine, an ex–FBI agent, and about five guns in the building. I’m safer there than anywhere and I can get some work done. And I’m not asking you. I’m telling you.”
With that, I turn around and stalk toward his truck.
“Impossible. She’s fuckin’ impossible,” I hear him say to himself as I storm away.
“Keep walkin’,” Brody orders, taking Drake’s keys from my hand. He pockets them and pushes me in the direction of his squad car. “Get in.”
Oh, look. Team Protective is out in force today. They need a fucking alarm bell or a siren or something so I can run.
“Get in,” he repeats, hitting me with a look worthy of Nonna.
That alone makes me get in. I drop into the seat with a huff and slam the door behind me.
Brody sits down with a chuckle and a shake of his head. I cut him a dark look, but he ignores me and pulls away. I look out my window and cross my arms for the entire journey, except we don’t end up at my office or our parents’.
No, he pulls up outside my house.
“What are we doing here?” I turn to him.
He twists the key to turn the engine off and turns to face me. He rests his elbow on the back of his seat and grabs the corner of mine. “I’m…stuck in the middle. I know that, if I take you to the office, you’ll just get Bek to drive you wherever you want to go and she’ll agree because you two are the ultimate double trouble. If I take you to Mom and Dad’s, you’ll just end up arguing with Nonna and the parrot all day and beg Dad to drive you wherever you want to go. At least, this way, if you go missing, I know the number plate to put out for.”
“Oh, wow. Thanks. Here I was thinking you were all about me championing my independence, because you know, I’m twenty-eight and older than you.” I shake my head. “Thanks, Brodes, but don’t worry. I promise not to leave the office unless I have a chaperone who’s male. You can even escort me there to make sense.”
“Noelle,” he says, grabbing my hand so I can’t get out. “He’s just trying to protect you. You know that, right?”
“You don’t say,” I drawl. “So, why’d you look like you wanted to punch him back there?”
“Eh, still not used to someone else doing it,” he admits with a careless shrug. “And the problem still remains that y’all are both strong characters. Anyone else would have whimpered, taken his keys, and done exactly what he said. But you… Dammit, sis.”
“No. I know what he’s doing, but he has a terrible habit of patronizing me. He goes into cop mode instead of being himself and it just makes me mad.”
“No shit,” he breathes. “Sometimes, I just wanna put y’all in a small room and let you fight it out until you make sense.”
“That could work if we’d ever make sense.”
“There is that.”
I pat his hand, undo my belt, then push my door open. “Hey, Brodes? Thanks for bringing me home. Tell him I made you, yeah? I don’t want you getting in trouble just because he’s pissed at me.”
He salutes me. “That was the plan. Just promise me you’ll keep your gun on you at all times.”
“I promise.”
“And your phone on loud.”
“I promise.”
“And answer it every single time me, Dev, or Trent call you.”
I smile. “I promise.”
“Phew. Now, I won’t have to lie about that.” He winks just as I shut the door.
He pulls away as I get into my own car. I lock the doors from the inside.
See? I’m not totally careless. I do think about my own safety. I just do it in a way that doesn’t make me feel like a petulant child.
My forehead rests against the smooth leather of the steering wheel. Every time. Every time people die, this happens. Should I just do what he wants? Should I drive to my parents’ place and hand Dad my keys so I can’t leave?
God, I don’t want to. I want to drive to my office then go home and have Bek sleep over. I want to lock my doors, turn my phone off, and ignore him.
But that’s pathetic. That’s ridiculous and against every point I’m trying to make.
I get it. I do. I always do. I’m a woman who lives alone, who just happens to be Catholic. I’m in danger, but so is almost every other woman I know.
Ultimately, I think I know what I have to do. I have to tell Sheriff Bates I can’t work with them anymore. It just affects me and Drake to such an extent that you know what? It’s starting to hurt. The work fights are starting to hurt me.
I never thought they would. He said last time that we could split it, work and play, but we can’t. We couldn’t then and we can’t now. And this case is big. It’s bigger than anything we’ve ever dealt with before.
And you know what? I just don’t want to do it anymore.
I turn my head and look out my window at the trees that line my drive. The blossoms have long fallen away, bright-green leaves having taken their place through summer. The sun glints off the shiny surfaces, making them seem greener than they actually are. My eyes trace the veins of the leaves as they dart right down the center.
Kind of feels like my relationship is a leaf and this case is the thick vein down the middle. We’re held together, but it’d be all too easy to tear us away from the case.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I’m almost ashamed at the tears that sting the backs of my eyes, but my heart won’t let me be.
However, I refuse to let them drip over, so I blink them back, sit up, and start my car.
Time to work.
Bek stares at me flatly. “Why am I not surprised?”
I rest my chin in my hands. “This is why all the romance books don’t have alpha females. They have women who’ll swoon over the big, protective bossiness. It’s not until it pisses you off.”
“Okay, most women in romance novels don’t own three guns. You know that, right?”
“Well, yeah.”
“So you could never be a romance heroine. You’re too badass.”
“I take offense to that. I could totally be a romance heroine. I can swoon.”
“Unless you’re being told what to do.”
“Women shouldn’t like being told what to do. Unless they’re submissive, of course. But, otherwise, we shouldn’t. We should stand up for ourselves.”