CHAPTER 45
TIA’S FACE WAS a picture when she saw me waiting for her in reception at the police station. One of those Edvard Münch ones with the dude screaming.
She walked right past me, nose in the air. “I’m not riding with you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I’m calling my brother.”
“I already spoke to him. He’s not coming.”
“I’ll call Lottie, then.”
“She’s not coming either.” Okay, so I hadn’t spoken to Lottie, but I was a pretty convincing liar.
Tia hesitated. “I’ll call a cab.”
She pulled her phone out of her pocket, and I plucked it from her grasp. All that practice disarming terrorists had finally paid off, although, ironically, I had Zacharov to thank for that.
“Give that back!”
I folded my arms. “Make me.”
Okay, so it was childish, but it was also satisfying. She actually thought
