Wolfe shrugged. “We work when Force wants to work, and that’s usually late. I didn’t see any activity around your building, so you’re safe for now.”

Her adrenaline had finally ebbed so she could think clearly. She shivered. Getting shot at shouldn’t be in her wheelhouse, but it was happening more frequently. “Who’s after you?” she asked, plucking at a string on her jeans.

“Nobody who matters.” Streetlights and darkness took turns highlighting and shadowing his strong face as he sped toward his office outside of D.C., his voice deep and unemotional.

“That’s not true. You’re hunting them, too.” She knew him well enough to understand he was on a mission of his own, one that had him often disappearing for a day or two at a time. “We help each other with cases.” When she’d been in trouble before, she’d called Wolfe, but he’d never confided in her. Yeah, it hurt a little. A one-way friendship didn’t appeal to her—even though he did. At some point, she was going to have to get a grip and move on if he didn’t let her in. “Why won’t you let me help with this case you’re on? I know you’re not letting your team know or provide backup.”

“I don’t need help.” His tone didn’t invite discussion.

Her temper boiled up faster than her mom’s pie filling in a cast-iron pot. Her taste in men sucked. Without question. She was also getting tired of him thinking she wanted a white picket fence and that she wanted it with him. What an ego. Why did she keep getting involved with impossible men? As if on cue, her phone buzzed.

She sighed. Yep. It must be after midnight. Without looking, she reached into her purse and declined the call.

Wolfe didn’t look over. “Who was that?”

“I don’t need your help,” she retorted, taking an admittedly immature pleasure in tossing his words back at him.

He turned then, those incredible bourbon-colored eyes catching her off guard once again. “We bring different talents to our friendship. I take care of problems.”

The guy truly underestimated what he had to offer, but it wasn’t her job to fix him. Not by a long shot. “And I do . . . what?”

“You do research and . . . let me take care of problems.” His grin was intriguing in that it failed to soften his face in the slightest. “I’ve noticed your phone ringing at weird hours, and I’ve also noticed that you tense up in a way that shows you do not want your phone to ring at weird hours. It’s time you told me what’s happening.”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s a two-way street, my friend.”