“Achieve?”
“Come on,” he said. “You caught me drunk, but I’m not dense.”
“Is that the second thing you want to know? What I hope to achieve?”
“No. I’ve got that figured.”
“I doubt it.”
“You want to rock the world.”
They were interrupted again when the waitress returned with a sizzling platter of grilled meat, which she set in the center of the table then crowded the side dishes around it. Kerra passed on his offer to share the enchiladas, but they each built a fajita.
“Delicious,” she mumbled around the first bite.
“You oughta come to Cowtown more often. In Dallas you get Tex-Mex with mushrooms.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Second thing I want to know.”
“I’m listening.”
“How long have you been sitting on this?”
“A while.”
“A while. That’s vague enough. Why jump on it now?”
“It’s not as sudden as it seems,” she said. “I’ve been trying for months to contact The Major. He wouldn’t have it, and now I’m out of time. This coming Sunday is the twenty-fifth anniversary of the bombing. Perfect timing. It would make for amazing television.”
“Ratings, all that shit.”
“Shit to you maybe, Mr. Trapper. Not to me.”
“Just plain Trapper.” He ate for a time, then, “You realize that Sunday is six days from now.”
“The clock is ticking. When The Major hung up on me yesterday for the thirteenth time, I looked you up. I’m desperate.”
He stopped eating. “Well, that explains what brought you tap-tap-tapping at my chamber door. Desperation.” When she didn’t deny it, he made a scornful sound and went back to his food. “I already told you, nothing I say will sway him.”
“Fair enough. Escort me as far as his threshold. You do that, I’ll take it from there.”
He bounced his fork against his plate and looked her over in a way that made her feel uncomfortably hot inside her clothes. She reached for her margarita and sipped through the salt rim. “How long did it take you?”
“To figure it out, you mean?”
She nodded.
“Longer than it should have. I’m out of practice.”
Despite the mule’s kick of the margarita, she took another sip for courage. She was approaching a slippery slope. Or more like reaching for the lion’s tail dangling from between the bars of his cage. “There’s quite a bit about you online.”
At first he didn’t act as though he’d heard her. He finished a bite, washed it down with a swig of beer, then looked across at her, his eyes like blue flame. “Well, don’t keep me in suspense.”
“You were with the ATF.”
“Um-hm.”
“For five years.”
“And seven months.”
“Before your anger issues got you fired.”
“I quit.”
As the waitress passed by, she paused and asked if they needed anything. Without taking his eyes off Kerra, Trapper thanked her, but gave an abrupt shake of his head.
After she moved on, Kerra said quietly, “You told me today that The Major’s overnight celebrity had no effect on your life. But it did, didn’t it?”
“Yeah. Huge. I was the only kid in my grade who got fifty-yard-line tickets to all the Cowboys’ home games. Couple of times we were invited to the owners’ suite.”
“If you weren’t influenced by the Pegasus, why did you choose a career with a federal bureau that investigates bombs and explosions?”
“The group insurance. Most plans don’t include dental.”
She frowned. “Please stop joking. I’m serious.”
“So am I,” he said in an angry whisper. “Stop interviewing me. I’ve got nothing to say to you about this.”
“Then why’d you call and meet me tonight?”
He didn’t have a ready response. Score! She mentally high-fived herself. “You’re an investigator by profession and inclination. You like puzzles and can’t tolerate one going unsolved. When you were with the ATF, you worked cases tirelessly until you had the answers, found the culprits. You were let go because of insubordination, not for lack of talent or initiative.”
“My, my. For somebody who’s never laid eyes on me until a few hours ago, you sure know a lot. Or think you do, anyway.”
“I know that you couldn’t help but be intrigued by the challenge I left you with today. I also know that what you discovered was much more significant than what you bargained for. Wasn’t it? Trapper? Correct me if I’m wrong.”
He didn’t say anything, just took a drink from his beer and held on to it when the busboy arrived to clear away their plates. Kerra used her credit card to settle the tab as soon as the waitress brought it.
Through all that activity, a hostile silence teemed between them. When they were left alone again, Kerra shook the ice cubes in her glass. She used the wedge of lime to draw circles around the rim of it. When she next looked across at Trapper, his eyes were tracking the motion, and it made her feel … funny. She placed her hands in her lap under the table and took a moment to get grounded. “What were you angry about?”
“When?”
“When you got fired.”
“I quit.”
“Before they could fire you. What was it over?”
“Didn’t you research that part?”
“I didn’t get to the specifics.”
“Nobody else did, either.” He mumbled that as though to himself. Then he shifted his legs beneath the table and leaned forward again. “I got really specific the day I walked out. I told my boss where he could shove his job.”
She could believe it. He looked coiled and ready to strike now. Speaking softly, she said, “I think you still have anger issues.”
“I do. Big time. And what pisses me off quicker than anything is being played by somebody who thinks she’s real cute and clever. Why didn’t you just come out and tell me?”
“Did you actually use a magnifying glass?”
He scowled at the taunt and tipped his head toward her drink. “You gonna finish that?”
“No.”
He picked up the glass, tossed back what remained of the margarita, then pointed her out of the booth. His wide hand stayed at the small of her back as they wove their way through the crowded restaurant. Kerra felt as though she was being herded but didn’t make an issue of it, not wanting him to know she was even aware of his hand.
As they walked past the hostess stand, the young woman gazed at Trapper dreamily and wished them a good night. Outside Kerra inhaled a deep breath to counteract the effects of the tequila.
“Thanks for dinner,” he said.
“You’re welcome.”
“Where’s your car?”
“We haven’t settled anything.”
“Hell we haven’t. Where’s your car?”
“I Ubered here.”
He took his phone from the pocket of his jacket and pulled up the app.
“I can order my own car.”
Ignoring her protest, he asked for her address. She gave it to him. He ordered the car.
“He’ll be here in two minutes. Ralph in a silver Toyota. Let’s wait over there out of the wind.”
Taking her elbow, he guided her around the corner of the building. “This is better,” she said, shivering inside her poncho. “The temperature has dropped—”
She broke off when he placed his hands on her shoulders and backed her against the exterior brick wall. Before she recovered from the shock of that, he leaned in, and she forgot all about being cold. But she struggled less against his hold on her than she did against her reaction to it. “What the hell are you doing? Get away from me.”
He lowered his face close to hers. “You listen and learn,” he said in a low thrum. “I’m not him. I’m not noble, not a gentleman, not a hero, understand?”
“That wasn’t so hard to deduce.”
She thought the putdown would anger him, but he retaliated by gently placing his palm against her cold cheek. He brushed his thumb across her beauty mark.