As if feeling her displeasure, he stopped and turned. “Right then,” he said. “You wait here.… What the devil are you doing?”
Mary brushed a gloved hand over his lapel once more. “Clearing a disturbing number of crumbs off your coat. Is that egg?” She flicked a dried crust of his morning meal from his tie. “My, but you look a fright.”
Talent swatted her away. “Good God, woman, stop mothering me.”
She scoffed. “I am trying to maintain the dignity of our office. You’re stomping about as unkempt as a vagabond.” In truth his gold SOS pin, depicting the goddess Isis, was the only part of his attire that he appeared to care for. Pinned neatly on his overcoat lapel, it gleamed bright against the dull, unbrushed wool. “The Talent I know and detest would never let his appearance fall into such disrepair.”
He showed his teeth in a reaper’s grin. “And the Chase I know and detest would not care.”
“Of course I care. You represent the SOS, which, by extension, includes me. At the very least, do keep your hat on. Your hair looks as though you’ve let a goat have a go at it.”
Talent’s brows nearly met in the center with the ferocity of his scowl. “Are you quite finished?”
Mary looked him over and smoothed one last wrinkle along his shoulder, biting back a smile when a growl rumbled low in his throat. “There.”
His cheeks went dull red. “As I was saying, take a look around the grounds. Perhaps you can discover something useful while you wait outside for me.”
Mary drew up tight. “Now just a moment, you. I am not waiting out here. I’m your partner, not some lackey.” Nor was she letting him out of her sight while they were on this case.
Talent’s mouth tilted into a lopsided sneer. “Are you bamming me, Chase? You cannot go with me.” He leaned forward, managing to loom even though he was a few feet away. “You go into that house, and you’ll have every human there in a snit. Women are not fit to handle death, much less view a murder site. You know that as well as I.”
“Not fit to handle death?” she ground out, her arms twitching to do him violence.
But he waved an annoyed hand. “Do not start quoting Wollstonecraft on me. I’m repeating pure social fact. That is what they believe. And that is what they will do, should you”—he pointed at her for emphasis—“waltz in there and expect to be treated like a man.”
Mary barely refrained from huffing. He was right. Moreover, it was something every female regulator had to face in the field, always losing out on more interesting cases because of society’s ridiculous notions. Confined to playing the spy, the watcher, pushed to the fringes, her female brethren did what they could. It was not enough. Worse, if she waited out here now, not only would she be unsure as to his culpability in this, Talent would assume the role of lead. And he would use it to his advantage at every turn.
Mary steeled her spine and gazed back at him coolly, calmly. “I am going in.”
With a curse he dragged a hand over his face. “You are being illogical.”
She was. She didn’t care. On the other hand, Talent had apparently forgotten about one of her more potent abilities. She gave him a level look. “I’ll play the part of your assistant.” It hurt to say that, but if he was going to assume she was useless, then she wasn’t about to let him in on her plans.
“Investigators do not have female assistants, Chase.”
“Fine. I’ll be your blind sister who cannot be left on her own.” She merely needed to get in the door.
He blinked back at her for a good five seconds. Then a shocked, harsh laugh burst from him. “You object to being my lackey, but you’ll be my sister? You, madam, are barmy.”
“Lovely to know we’ve rolled around to the name-calling stage of the conversation,” she said sedately.
A string of blue curses filled the air, and then Talent took a deep breath. “Fine. Do not blame me if your stubbornness gets us nowhere in a hurry. And you shall follow my lead. Do not speak until I give you leave.”
An unladylike snort left her lips. “Tell me, Talent, do you honestly expect me to listen to the drivel that comes from your mouth? Or do you suffer bouts of delusion?”
His answering grin was serpentine, a viper about to strike. “Hark! She lives.” He ambled forward, his head cocked to the side as he studied her. “That’s probably the most impassioned tone I’ve heard from you yet, Chase.” Before she could give him another, his expression hardened. “I have seniority, thus I am the lead on this team. You do as I say.”