I grip the seat. “Could you slow down, please?” He relaxes, and the scowl on his face eases into an everyday frown. “Sorry. I drive fast when I’m tense.” “Well, I’d rather we not get in a car crash. Don’t do that asshole’s job for him.” As soon as I say it, my skin crawls. That asshole’s job for him. It bothers Grant, too. “He’s not getting close to you ever again.” I shudder. “I hope you’re right.” “What were you even doing there?” Grant asks, almost accusingly. “I didn’t go there just for the hell of it,” I snap. “He sent me a text from your phone number saying you wanted us to meet with some sort of FBI informant or something.” Grant’s eyes go wide. “From my number?” “Yes.” “He can do that?” “Duh.” Grant grips the steering wheel. “Shit… did you take a cab?” “No. Hodge took me.” Grant’s eyes bugged out. “WHAT?!” “Calm down – ” “Hodge fucking took you there?!” “Calm down. He could have tricked him – he certainly tricked me.”
