Roland leaned back on the chair, eyes narrowed on Zoey.
Making him into a bodyguard? Was that a joke or another con they were trying to play?
Since when did a detective, one so bright, start needing a bodyguard?
Roland scoffed within, watching her. He smelled the snare hidden underneath her breath, every word she spilled was a trap, a plague waiting to let loose.
Zoey, drawing a soft breath, she leaned further forward. “What is your answer, Mr. Smith? Will you take the deal?”
“No,” Roland answered. He squinted his eyes. “What do you take me for, detective? Do you take me for an amateur? You think I am ready to play games…”
“This is not a game,” Zoey answered. “I wouldn’t ask this if I had any other choice… this is my life on the line, and making these adjustments doesn’t sit right w
