Joe snorted and turned to face the street, his gaze trailing Bruce Wayne as he moved to sit on the hood of his car. “You would know all about that, wouldn’t you? How many times have you had a gun pointed at you now? Two? Three?”

“I don’t know,” I grumbled. “I’ve lost track.”

He laughed, but it was a bitter sound. “You’ve lost track.” He enunciated each word carefully. “For someone who was so determined to live her own life, you sure seem headstrong to end it.”

I put my hand on my hip, starting to get really and truly pissed. “What do you want, Joe?”

“I told you I want—”

“I don’t know anything about the robbery and that’s the God’s honest truth. Now, is there anything else? Because as you can see, I’m busy.”

His face softened, contrition and regret flickering in his gaze. “I wanted to apologize.”

“Oh.” I took a half step back. I hadn’t expected that.

“You were right. I thought if I kissed you, you’d see you were wrong about us.”

I sighed, weary of this fight. “Joe, even if I decided to leave Mason and be with you, it wouldn’t work. Your father still holds my life in his hands. Pretending like he’s never gonna use it is folly and you know it. He will. It’s just a matter of time. Are you really willing to do that to me? To Violet and Mike?”

He swallowed. “There has to be a way.”

“To save me from your father or to be with me?”

“Both.”

Profound sadness seeped into my bones. “Why does saving me from your father have to be a two-for-one special, Joe? If you cared anything about me, you’d want to save me even if you couldn’t be with me. Mason would.”

I started to turn around, but he grabbed my arm and spun me back around to face him, his face contorting with anger. “Don’t you dare trivialize my feelings for you,” he said through gritted teeth. “And don’t you try and compare my love for you to his.”

I tried jerking my arm out of his grasp, but his fingers dug in. “Let go of me.”

“Not until you listen to me, dammit!”

“There’s nothing to say! You just can’t handle the truth.”

Bruce Wayne sprinted toward us and stood several feet away, his hands clenched into fists. “Let her loose, Joe.”

Joe turned his steely gaze on my friend. “That’s Deputy Simmons to you, Bruce Wayne,” he said, his voice full of authority. “And this is none of your concern. You can leave. Now.”

I jerked my arm free and took several steps back. “Don’t you dare talk to him like that! You’re not talking to me in an official capacity and he’s my friend, so don’t you dare pull that deputy crap on him when all he’s doin’ is trying to protect me.”

Anger filled his eyes. “Protect you? From me?” he shouted.

“Joe! Look at you! You’re grabbing me and forcing me to talk to you! What do you think it looks like?”

His anger faded and horror replaced it.

“Joe, please.” My voice shook. “Just go.”

“Rose. I’m sorry.” He reached for me and stopped. “You have to know that,” he pleaded.

“I do, but you have to leave now.”

Bruce Wayne stood next to me as we watched him walk back to his car, shaking his head like he could barely believe his own behavior. “Are you all right, Miss Rose?”

I rubbed my arm, but not because I was physically hurt. “I’m fine, and you better start dropping the ‘Miss’ now that we’re partners.”

“We’re not yet,” he said, watching Joe’s car drive away. “Not until we get that money back. We’re meeting Skeeter at four. He wants to talk to us before the evening business picks up.”

“Four is good. Mason’s mom is coming tonight and I’m not sure how I’d explain leaving if we had to meet him in the evening.”

“Let me do this on my own, Rose. You can trust me.”

I turned to face him. “I do trust you, but you’re not going alone, just like I’m not. We either go together or not at all.”

“United we stand, divided we fall,” Bruce Wayne said softly.

“Ain’t that the truth.”

Still, I couldn’t help wondering if Bruce Wayne was right. I was about to try making a deal with the devil.

Chapter Twenty

Bruce Wayne was sitting in his car when I pulled up to Eight Baller Billiards. He got out as I approached, my stomach threatening to expel my meager lunch.

I looked up at the sign, wondering if this was so smart after all. The last time I had come here for information, I’d given Skeeter a fake name and had gotten in over my head, drinking and playing pool with him. When I’d had a vision and told him that he was going to lose a lot of money, he’d presumed I was an undercover cop and threatened my life. But if he read the papers or listened to Henryetta gossip at all, that confusion would be cleared up, and I wasn’t going in under false pretenses this time. I had information he might want. Hopefully, he could help me as well. Besides, I wasn’t the naïve girl I once was. But I wasn’t so sure I was this worldly either.

“You look nice, Bruce Wayne,” I said as I approached him. He was dressed in a clean pair of jeans, a button-down shirt—noticeably unwrinkled—and a tan jacket. I’d never seen him look so put together. When he was on trial, he’d looked like someone sadistic had been playing dress-up with him and ill-fitting suits.