She didn’t answer me. Instead, she gripped her mug harder, knuckles going white, and pulled her legs up onto the couch. Everything about her screamed tension and fear.
“Did you get hurt in the fight?” she asked, pointing to my shoulder. She gestured to a tear in my jacket, right at the seam where the sleeve met the shoulder.
I shrugged out of my jacket. My shoulder and arm were unharmed.
“I’m good,” I said, fingering the torn seam. “Only got the jacket. He didn’t break the skin or anything.”
Cameron nodded, took a deep breath, and set her mug down. “So, muggers and carjackers don’t usually track down victims to try a second attack, right?’
“You’re in the news biz,” I said. “You probably know more than me.”
“They don’t,” Cameron admitted. “That’s not the M.O. for criminals like that.”
“True.”
She stared at me for several long seconds. It was like someone was peeling me open like an orange and inspecting the soft flesh beneath the thick skin. It wasn’t easy to make me uncomfortable, but under her gaze, I felt like a bug under a magnifying glass. This woman would be a hell of a reporter once she got further into her career.
“Tell me what the hell’s going on,” she demanded. “You and Ollie know more than you’re letting on.”
“Can’t tell you,” I said. “It wouldn’t be safe.”
“Can the macho bullshit, Nate. I told you, I can take care of myself.”
“Never said it wasn’t safe for you. It’s not safe forme.”
“Excuse me?”
“I can’t tell you what I know. Certain, uh, people would be pissed if I spilled the secrets. They’d come for me, and it would be a whole thing.”
“What people? Like the cops? Is Ollie gonna arrest you?”
“Something like that,” I said, dodging the truth.
To my surprise, Cameron picked her mug back up and sank into the couch again.
I cocked an eyebrow at her. “That’s it? I was sort of expecting a bigger fight from you.”
“I get it. I’m sure the police here aren’t as corrupt as back home, but in Zamora, if you ran your mouth, you were likely to get a bullet in the head. That went for the gangsandpolice. Whatever you’re scared of, I can relate.”
“Hard to leave that life behind, I take it?”
Cameron nodded toward the hall. “Mom’s still got a gun. Just in case. She’s a pretty damn good shot, too.”
“Your mom has a handgun? InCanada? Is that legal?”
Cameron’s cheeks reddened, and she put a finger to her lips. “She got it before the law changed. If you won’t tell, we won’t tell.”
I chuckled. “Secret’s safe with me. Keep that outlook—stay quiet about this whole thing. For now, try to be vague about this second attack. Maybe don’t even mention it at all, even when you talk about it to your family and that boyfriend of yours.”
“Oh, fuck,” Cameron hissed and put her mug down again. “I need to call Rick back. Where’s my phone? He’s probably freaking out.”
She gave an irritated little shake of her head. Not the look a person made when their significant other might be worried about them. Instead, she looked like she’d rather do anything else but call him. Strange.
I tilted my head and used my enhanced hearing to try and catch her heartbeat. Definitely more of a staccato rhythm,one that usually meant someone was nervous or dreading something. Interesting.
“It’s in my pocket,” I said. “Almost forgot.”
When I tugged the phone out of my jacket, the notification screen showed seven missed calls and ten text messages. It must have been on silent. I handed it over, and her expression morphed into one of irritation.
