The Survivor - Cristin Harber Page 0,3
suggest a safety precaution. Halle’s hard-and-fast trust in natural selection reigned supreme.
Jared was somewhere in the middle of the two extremes, depending on his mood and the day’s headaches.
For now, she was alone and in control of her destiny. The city lay before her. Amanda breathed deeply, where she needed to be.
Familiar, heavy footsteps broke her meditation. Amanda turned from the gaping exterior wall and waited for Jared as he slapped plastic tarps out of his way, pursuing the fastest option from point A to point B.
Amanda gave a quick wave when he stormed into view. “You found me.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Amanda. Back the fuck up.”
“I thought Army Rangers were trained to be sneaky and quiet,” she teased. “Or was that too long ago for you to remember?”
He snorted. “If I didn’t want you to know I was here, you still wouldn’t know, Sparkler.”
The corners of her mouth turned down. “Don’t call me that.”
“Then don’t hang that close to the edge of my building.” He cracked his knuckles, then crossed his arms over his chest. “Give me a couple more inches. If you trip and fall, do you know what you’d do to my insurance rates?”
“I’m glad you care about my safety.”
Jared beckoned her closer. “A little more, cupcake.”
“So long as you don’t call me Sparkler.” She moved then made a show of checking her distance from the fall zone. “I think I’m safe.”
“Thank you.” A muscle ticked in his cheek. “Parker says there’s a problem with—”
“Parker said the word problem?” She lifted her eyebrows. “Or did he say there were two new items on the punch list?”
A stress line deepened across Jared’s forehead. “Same thing.”
“Not really. I’ll show you what’s going on.” They walked toward a plastic-wrapped pallet. Jared managed to stay behind and follow without blazing a path through unfinished walls or slapping plastic tarps. She laid her tablet on the makeshift desk. “There are two new items on the punch list. One’s taken care of.” She pointed to an update. “And this one”—she scrolled down—“should’ve been fixed already. But it’ll be fine by tomorrow.”
Jared harrumphed.
“Allergies?” she asked and continued to scroll when he ignored her. “This is the update I’m sending to Parker tonight.”
Jared scrutinized the punch list. “You’re still on schedule.”
“Shocker.” She returned to the top of the list. “Except, not really. You know I get the job done.”
His nostrils flared. “Stay on schedule.”
She gave him a playful salute. “Aye, aye, captain.”
He grumbled. “And don’t fall out of the damn building.”
“I won’t screw up your insurance rates.” She crossed her hand over her heart. “I swear.”
“Not to mention, your father would kill me.”
“Mom, too.” She closed the project and let the tablet lock. “If that’s all.”
“How is your mom?” he asked, trying his best at small talk.
She cradled the tablet in the crook of her arm and thought back to her last conversation with her parents as they deplaned at Andrews Air Force Base. “She’s fine. They just got back from an economic summit in Tokyo.”
“Saw that.”
“Mom’s happy with the reception her communicable disease speech had with the press.”
Jared nodded. “And your dad?”
“Busy, as always.” She sighed. Jared wasn’t one to make polite conversation. If he brought up her parents, she wanted to discuss security issues. Double standards infuriated her. After all, he’d contracted her security company. “Question for you, Boss Man.”
“Shoot.”
“How often do you ask your team to be careful near sharp drops?”
His dark eyes narrowed. “You might know if you ever spoke to any of them.”
Well, hell. She should’ve seen that one coming. “I do—”
His hand went up like an NBA player blocking a shot. “Parker and Angela don’t count.”
“Then, never mind.” Amanda gnawed on her lip. Titan’s IT director and office administrator were the only people she’d communicate with besides Jared. He’d tried several times to brief her on his Abu Dhabi-based team, but Amanda always invoked her contract, which stipulated her right to privacy. She didn’t want to know anything personal about anyone. It was a weakness that she’d never allow again.
His scowl deepened. “There’s something you should—”
“No. There’s not.” If it wasn’t mission-critical, she refused to listen. “I’m stubborn like that.”
He glared. “That’s a nice way to put it.”
Seconds crawled by. This was the worst part of their ongoing disagreement. Jared could call her choices into question without saying a word. He didn’t care that his attempts to broaden her world only unburied her pain. “I have to go.”
“That’s your choice to make,” he said. “A stupid one.”
Damn him. She refused