ation. That’s one hell of a major conflict of interest. Worse, he’s not just your father. He’s also your client. You’re legally obligated to protect his interests. Take a step back and view this objectively. Don’t you see how irrational you’re being?”
“Yes.” Sloane slammed her fist on the counter, hating that Derek was right, hating that she couldn’t get past this. “The logic is all there. But the way the situation was handled…I still feel used. And manipulated.”
“I had a snap decision to make. I made it. I knew you’d be furious. And I felt like shit when I gave Rich the go-ahead. But I couldn’t see any other way for him to get his answers and not put you in an untenable position. I’m sorry for how all this makes you feel. I’m sorry about your mother. But I’m not sorry for my decision. Now it’s up to you. Are you going to be reasonable and work through this with me, or are you going to reerect that damned wall of yours?”
“I’m trying like hell not to. That’s why I put off having this fight. I get what you’re saying. But here I was, picking out fabric patterns with you, while my mother was being carted off to be killed, and Rich was grilling my father about Cai Wen’s murder. Do you know what a fool I feel like?”
“The redecorating part wasn’t a lie. I want to make this place ours, rather than yours. The only contrivance was the timing of Leo’s appointment.” Derek leaned forward. “Let’s face it, Sloane. If you’d been the lead agent on this case, you would have followed the same procedure I did, and you know it. The real issue here is that you need to be the one in control—always the cat, never the mouse. Well, life doesn’t work that way. This time you were the mouse. And you can’t come to grips with that.”
“Right back at you,” Sloane retorted. “You’re the biggest control freak I know. If the tables were turned, you’d be ripping mad.”
Derek issued no denial. Not that Sloane had expected him to. The facts were the facts. They both hated being maneuvered like chess pieces, no matter how solid the reasons behind it were. And now Derek was waiting for her to find an objectivity that continued to elude her.
“This whole situation is impossible,” she finally determined aloud. “We can’t change who we are. And we can’t seem to table it, not even when it comes to separating our personal and professional lives. Look at your reaction in Tony’s office. You shot down my idea of becoming part of the investigation simply because you were worried that I was setting myself up as a target. Would you have done that if it had been anyone but me making that stipulation? Especially if that anyone had my experience, my credentials?”
Derek rolled his wine goblet between his palms. “No,” he stated flatly. “I wouldn’t have.” He pinned her with his gaze. “So what’s the solution? Do you want to change your mind and bow out?”
“Of what? The investigation or our living together?”
“You tell me. Which means more to you?”
There it was. Out in the open, just like the last time. Only Sloane had learned a lot since then.
“You’re testing me,” she replied. “I don’t like it, but I know where it’s coming from. So I’ll surprise you. I’ll answer—honestly. No, I’m not going to walk away from us. No, I won’t put an investigation ahead of what we have. But I also won’t bow out of this case. Not unless you force me to. In which case, it’s you who haven’t learned anything from the past.”
She knew she’d gotten through by the expression on Derek’s face.
“You’re right,” he acknowledged. “My being a hard-ass will only make things worse. So how do we handle this?”
“The way I see it? One minefield at a time. We’ll butt heads, constantly rip each other a new one, and with any luck, come out alive and together.”
A flicker of amusement. “Sounds like the story of our relationship.”
“More or less.”
Derek reached across the island and held out his right hand, palm out. “Truce?”
Sloane eyed him for a moment, then met his handshake. “A reluctant one, but okay, truce.”
“Enough to get me out of the guest room?”
Reflexively, Sloane’s lips twitched. “Barely. And only because you’re so good in bed.”
A broad grin. “Works for me. Want to try out our truce now? You look very sexy in that nightshirt.”
“After I finish my wine and brie. And after you fill me in on this Dai Lo, Xiao Long, and his enforcer, Jin Huang, who my parents’ descriptions helped you sketch and identify.”
“I’ll fill you in, but on a need-to-know basis,” Derek reminded her.
“Agreed. I’ll take what I can get.”
The cemetery was quiet.
Low, moody clouds eclipsed any trace of early morning sun. But it wouldn’t have mattered what the weather was. It was the same ritual each month.
The eleventh. Seven-twenty a.m.
That’s when the medical examiner had declared her dead.