Her gaze darted to Dave. "Mind your goddamned business." But she couldn't see that happening. Dave was an atrocious gossip and this would be all around the office within minutes of them getting back.
"And what's with the tattoo?" Dave asked. "You have a tattoo? Where?"
"Nowhere you're ever going to see. Come on, let's get out of here." She nodded to the young man who sat at the desk across the room, trying to look as though he wasn't hanging on their every word. Declan's assistant? At least he didn't have some sexy bimbo secretary. But why should she care?
"Are you sure we shouldn't try again?" Dave said. "I read what little there was in the file and these guys after him mean business. Even if you don't like him, I'm guessing you don't want him dead."
"And maybe you're guessing wrong. Maybe I don't give a toss." Maybe she'd like to shoot him herself. At just what point had he recognized her? She was betting from the moment she walked through the door. And he'd no doubt thought it would be amusing to string her along. He was a better goddamn actor than she was.
"Hmm. And I think you're protesting too much. Very … intriguing."
"Oh bugger off," she muttered and headed for the elevator. She stared straight ahead as they made their way down, but she could almost hear Dave's brain ticking over. No doubt coming up with more and more salubrious scenarios to entertain the entire office.
"Go back to the office and file a report," she said, as the doors slid open. "This job is officially closed."
"Where are you going?" Dave asked, eying her suspiciously.
"For a walk. I need some fresh air." Without waiting for him to answer, she strode across the reception area and out the front door. Once on the street, she hesitated, not knowing where to go.
She should go back to the office and sign in the firearm, but she really did need to clear her head, and in the end she just turned right and started moving, not really paying attention to where she was going.
She purposefully didn't think, just kept walking, while her brain cooled and her thoughts stopped whirling around in her head. When she reached a measure of calm, she slowed her pace and searched around her, settling on a coffee shop across the road.
She ordered an espresso and sat by the window, staring out but not seeing.
Well, that had gone well. As an exercise in moving on, proving that the past had no power over her anymore, it had been a complete disaster. As an exercise in proving she could play nice, it had been even worse.
Declan had changed so much. She could hardly recognize the boy she had known within the self-assured man she had just met. Though he had always been self-assured; it was one of the things that had drawn her to him. Even at eighteen, he'd known exactly who he was and what he wanted. For a little while that had been her. But he hadn't wanted her enough. She hadn't fitted into his plans for his nice tidy future. What had he told her? She was too wild, a disaster waiting to happen. That had been the first time they'd broken up. She'd stolen a car, gone joyriding …
She'd been seventeen at the time. And yeah, she'd been a little out of control. Not bad, just a tiny bit screwed up and filled with a need for excitement away from her tame middle-class upbringing.
When she'd met Declan, he'd seemed the perfect match. At first sight, he was the ultimate bad boy. Strangely, she'd met his father first. She'd been running with an older crowd, and they'd gotten tickets to a party in one of Rory McCabe's nightclubs. She'd caught his eye, not surprisingly considering her barely there sparkly dress. He'd invited her to his table, plied her with champagne-she had told him she was twenty-one-and even offered her a job dancing in his club. She'd found the attention flattering. Rory McCabe was a handsome man, an older version of Declan.
Then Declan had stormed over to the table and informed his father that she was in fact only seventeen. Declan had known her from school though he was a year ahead of her. Rory had been all for getting the bouncers to throw her out, but when Declan had said he'd take care of it, he'd given his son a knowing look and told him to play safe.
At first, she'd been pissed that he'd spoiled her fun. But soon she'd forgotten all that. Declan was … She sighed as she remembered him that first night. Tall, towering six inches above her five nine, with black hair, overlong so it brushed his shoulders and fell over his forehead, and mesmerizing silver gray eyes.
For all her wildness, she'd hardly ever been kissed, never having found anyone she wanted enough. But with Declan she was lost. He'd walked with her along the embankment, taken his first kiss with her pushed up against the wall, his big body hard against hers, the salt tang of the river in her nostrils. Even now, she couldn't smell the river without being carried back to that night.