Ring of Truth (Devlin Security Force Book 2) Read Free Page B

questions.”
    He liked her voice, low and husky, now that she wasn’t yelling at him. The oil lanterns on the tables and the low lighting set a romantic stage. Don’t even think it.
    When a white-aproned waiter hustled over, Cort ordered a Sam Adams. Mara had an untouched goblet of red wine. Either she hadn’t waited long or she was so nervous the glass was her second. The alert look in her gaze made him opt for the former.
    He shrugged off his windbreaker and stuffed it into the corner. He glanced at the sandwich menu in the stand by the lantern. When he looked up, she was staring over her wine at his forearms.
    The sleeves on his knit shirt had gotten pushed up some. Pulling them down to his wrists, he shrugged. “Prison tattoos.”
    She shook her head. “Lots of people have tattoos. I didn’t mean to stare.”
    But his black scrolling lines and spider webs weren’t civilian tats. His were thick and chunky, intimidating. “Some prison tats are artistic, but most are for protection.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Medium security at Allenwood isn’t as tight as max. More freedom inside means more chances for other guys to hurt you.” If a guy let himself get beat up, stabbed, or raped, he lost all respect. Cort had protected himself and bloodied a few guys with his fists in the process. He wasn’t about to give details. “To be safe I needed respect. Show I was tough, sit still for tattoos.”
    “My God, you were only nineteen.” Her eyes grew huge as the implications sank in.
    “I survived. I’d get rid of the ink but laser surgery costs money I don’t have.”
    She made no response but he was ready to change the subject anyway. “If you haven’t eaten, we can order dinner. My treat.”
    “We’ll see.”
    Ah, she was still skittish. Wanted to be able to walk away at any moment. The robbery had devastated her family as well as his. He wanted to reassure her that she wouldn’t be hurt again. But he couldn’t promise that. He couldn’t promise a damn thing.
    She lowered her gaze to the menu.
    Good. She was considering his offer.
    He already knew from seeing her in the harshly lit garage she was gorgeous. The restaurant’s soft light gave him a chance to view the details—fine-boned features, dark-chocolate cat-eyes, warm-honey skin. And hints of both strength and vulnerability that tugged at him.
    Curb it, Jones. He hadn’t been that long without a woman. He shifted on the bench seat and studied the menu.
    When the waiter brought his brew, Cort suggested they order. He awarded himself a virtual high-five when Mara relented. They chose—the corned beef for him and a chicken-salad wrap for her.
    After another sip of wine, she said, “You said before the FBI won’t help you. But if you have some sort of lead, shouldn’t you try?”
    He lifted one shoulder noncommittally as he took a drink of beer. “I did try. Every year since he went inside, Leon concocted elaborate scenarios for where he hid the jewels. As far as the FBI’s concerned, my story was another of his hoaxes. They might take notice if I walk in wearing the Gramornia crown and carrying the scepter.”
    “A joke. You surprise me.” She chuckled, an infectious sound that resonated deep inside him. “I’m trying to imagine you wearing a jeweled crown.”
    He couldn’t help a grin. “Not a pretty picture.”
    “Their resistance makes no sense. You say the FBI harasses you often, yet they won’t listen to you now.”
    He shrugged. “My lead comes from an untrustworthy source, the Jeweler.”
    When he’d laid out Leon’s strategy for protecting the loot’s hiding place, Special Fucking Agent Kaplan had laughed at him. Laughed at the puzzle ring piece and walked out. His skepticism matched Cort’s, but the rejection and derision rankled.
    A small bowl of snack mix and their silverware arrived.
    Mara picked out a sesame stick. The corners of her mouth ticked downward, and the warm humor in her eyes cooled. “I didn’t meet you