CHAPTER SEVEN
“Shit.”
Rylie looked up from the case files, momentarily confused. She expected to see a deer rushing across the street or something. It was a rare moment when Michael Brisbane uttered an expletive. He was far too calm for that.
But there was nothing. The road was clear. They were coming into a little more traffic, but that was because they were getting close to the capital. Other than that, everything seemed fine, except that her partner was now fishing in his pockets and the cup holders for something. Not finding what he was looking for, he opened up the armrest console between them and dug his hand in there.
“Problem?”
“Yeah. You have a dollar?”
“Yes . . . For what?” She reached into her purse and pulled it out. It seemed like an awfully inconvenient time to stop for
