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with himself for letting it happen. But she sensed something more, something he wasn't sharing. |
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"What do you mean by 'everything else'?" |
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D.J.'s gaze flicked up to his face, searching for an indication of what he continued to hide. "I'm not sure. But I can see it in your eyes whenever you look at me. I can taste it on your lips when you kiss me. You're punishing yourself for something, McCall. You're one big mountain of angst, and I intend to find out why." |
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"My problems are none of your business." |
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"Oh, but they are. You've drawn me into a game without rules. Someone's trying to kill us, and the only way to find out who and why is to take apart your life, Christian McCall. So I'm going to pull every secret from that creative little brain of yours until I understand what's going on here. Because now they want to kill me too, and it pisses me off." |
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"No one gets into my head, least of all you." |
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The glacial tone of his voice made D.J. blink. He sounded like . . . like her. When had McCall learned how to be rude? |
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"My, my, aren't we touchy? Thanks, McCall, you just proved to me there's a mystery in you aching to be discovered." |
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"Go back to sleep, D.J." His voice sounded as weary as she felt; all the life and joy usually contained in his tone had been drained away. |
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D.J. lay back on the stretcher and closed her eyes. Poor guy; he'd spent too much time with her, and things would only get worse before they got better. An indeterminate amount of days, perhaps weeks, isolated with McCall at her father's cabin yawned |
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