“You smoke, Mace?”
Cat’s question was surprising. “You offering?”
“No.” Her jaw moved as though she ground something between her teeth. She set her back to a wall with no openings, had one knee bent, one foot to the brick, the other on the pavement. She held the rifle across her body, grip casual, but he’d be a fool to doubt she was able to swing it around in a second should she need to. They spared a few moments to stare at each other and, by apparent mutual consent, broke eye contact and peered off in opposite directions, scanning both ends of the street.
A few quiet moments slid into history. “I don’t smoke.”
“What?”
Mason drew in a steadying breath. “I don’t smoke.” Though unable to see her, so he couldn’t be sure she gazed over, he was certain her stare scorched the side of his f
