Ryan saw Claire's expression as well, prompting him to sit, and then roll up his sleeves. “Let’s do it.”

Their hands and arms shook as they pushed against the other. Matt’s face was red, and a vein had popped out on his forehead like a pulsating worm slithering under his skin.

“You gonna let the rookie beat you, McCarty?” Pat said, smiling at the spectacle.

A few moments later, Ryan slammed Matt’s hand to the table. “Yeah!” he grunted, standing up in celebration.

“Oh, brother,” Claire said, rolling her eyes. “I thought you invited us to lunch, not a pissing contest.”

“You wanna stab at it?” Ryan asked, returning to his seat.

Claire stiffened. She was competitive, and being forced to lose to Ryan to protect her identity was not something she would handle well.

“Don’t do it,” I whispered.

“I won’t be easy on you just because you’re a girl,” Ryan said.

Matt laughed. “I don’t know. She’s got some eggs on her arms.”

By the look on his face, Ryan knew exactly what he was doing. He had experienced her strength before, and he was going to test his theory.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she said, uninterested. “You’re still healing.”

Ryan shrugged. “Then I’ll use the other arm. I’ll still beat you.”

Claire sat in the open chair.

“Claire, no,” I said.

Ryan held up his hand, and Claire took it. She lowered her chin, glaring into Ryan’s eyes.

“She’s feisty,” Matt said, intrigued.

“Shut up, McCarty,” Pat said.

“Say go, Nina,” Claire said.

“This is stupid….” I said, attempting a last chance to avoid the only two products of their ridiculous stand-off—neither of them good.

“Go!” Matt yelled.

Their arms turned rigid, and then their hands began to tremble. I knew the shaking was on Ryan’s part; Claire looked bored. After fifteen seconds, the officers around the table began harass Ryan.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t go easy on her, Scotty Dog?” McCarty smirked.

“Come on, Scotty. Quit foolin’ around,” Pat said.

Ryan’s face turned several shades of red, and then beads of sweat formed on his brow.

Claire raised an eyebrow, and then pushed a bit, leaning Ryan’s hand closer to the table.

McCarty laughed out loud. “She’s gonna beat him! Scotty’s gonna get beat by a girl!”

Ryan took a deep breath, and then pressed his lips together, holding his breath and straining so hard, I thought he might pass out.

Claire looked at Matt, and then back at Ryan. She rolled her eyes, and the slight tension in her arm gave way. Ryan slammed her hand to the table.

The officers all cheered, and Ryan stood, rubbing his arm.

“You’re not serious,” Matt said, doubtful.

Claire patted the empty table space in front of her and smiled. “Have a seat, Sweet Pea.”