Chapter 80

She adjusted her rounded spectacles and sighed at Marlow as he shook out his foot. “You’re going to make me log this one on my own, aren’t you?”

“Please,” Marlow begged her with as pitiful an expression as he could muster. Most of the sparring logs were done by computer, but they still printed and filed paper copies on the other side of the precinct. “Don’t make me go back into the bullpen just to see that asshole’s smirk.”

Hannigan looked like she desperately wanted to say something.

“What?”

“Nothing! I’ll do it. But, um, honest question? No judgment, I swear.”

“I do not have a thing for Remy.”

“I wasn’t going to ask that! Maybe…”

“What?”

“How long has it been since you had a date?”

The blood drained from Marlow’s face—which was easy, considering it was still mostly far away from it. “I’m going home.”

“Marlow—”

“Goodnight, Hanna. And thank you. I promise I’ll make this up to you any way you ask as long as thatnever comes up again.”