“They found my wallet,” he blurted.

  “Oh, that’s great.”

  For some reason he gave it to her.

  As she opened the thing and looked at the driver’s license, she nodded. “That’s you.”

  Focusing on the Caldwell Courier Journal emblem that hung over the door she’d walked out of, he said, “Look, all this is off the rec-ord, okay?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “And I wish I had another option. I wish . . . I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

  “You haven’t asked me to do anything yet.” She stared at him. “What do you have in mind?”

  “Can you find out who that is?” He pointed to the driver’s license. “Because it’s not me.”

  • • •

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  J.R. Ward, [Fallen Angels 01] - Covet

 

 

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