Page 31 of Talk to Me

“Then I can shoot you in the head and check your ID after you're down,” Remington stated in the coolest of tones.

“Or we could not splatter blood all over her dining room without a damn good reason,” Locke countered. “Killing people means bodies to deal with, I prefer to minimize the mess.”

I blinked at Locke and it took a beat to realize that I wasn’t the only one staring at him. “You’re not an assassin then,” Remington stated. To be fair, it wasn’t a question.

“No,” Locke stated. “You are. I’ve heard the rumors on the kill count.”

Good to know. I liked the open sharing of information. Locke was less likely to shoot me than Remington. I reoriented my gun at the guy who had fired already.

“You followed me here, Mr. Locke,” Remington informed him.

“Yep, because you were sniffing around for information on Patch. I wanted to find her too—but all my access points were shut down because you were looking for her. So, if you had the info, I let you bring me to her.”

“Reasonable.”

It also suggested they were looking for her after she disappeared. That meant they might be like me, aware that she’d stopped answering her phone. It could also be a covert ploy to get information.

Faking association was a common interrogation tactic. Then again, they hadn’t known I was there before they tried to beat the shit out of each other.

I weighed the potential threat against the benefit of information. Particularly because they knew Patch’s name.

“This is Patch’s place,” I confirmed why I was there and it arrested the attention of Locke.

“You know her?”

“Yes,” I answered easily enough. I knew her. Clearly, they knew her.

“On sight, do you know her?” Remington asked.

And I almost smiled. Smart asshole.

“You don’t,” Remington answered his own question before slicing a look at Locke. “Neither of you do.”

“You don’t either.” That was the thing, if he could, he wouldn’t be willing to wait out this discussion. “Are there photos here?”

They both paused, Locke with a frown, but Remington appeared more thoughtful.

“No,” Remington answered after a moment. “I’d barely done one sweep when Locke walked in. No photos. Nothing of family or friends. If anything, it’s been minimal in the way of personalization. It’s cozy without being warm or homey.”

I blew out a breath. The best covers to inhabit were usually those that were close to the person. She shouldn’t need a cover though, just a?—

“What about her call center?”

No surprise moved across their faces. No, they were definitely contractors. If I had to bet, then Patch was their operator too. My girl, stepping out on me with these yahoos.

Great.

“Not yet,” Remington answered when Locke said nothing. Curiously, the cat had apparently gotten his tongue. Too bad. I had a feeling if he had more information, he’d have already shared it. “You’re here because she didn’t answer.”

Again, Remington wasn’t asking a question. Since the fact was pretty clear, it cost me nothing to confirm it. “The same as you, I would imagine. And Mr. Peace Lover over here.”

“Never said I had a problem with violence,” Locke responded. “I just don’t see the point of dropping bodies if we don’t have to.”

I didn’t roll my eyes, but Remington shook his head.

“Since we are all here for the same reason,” Locke continued. “I propose a truce until we find Patch.”

“You think something’s happened to her?” Remington’s whole focus swung from me to Locke.