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and leave. “You’re a little liberal with your definition of entertainment,” he said dryly.
    Carly leaned closer, her fresh scent teasing him, her amused voice almost…hopeful. “Are you feeling uncomfortable with the play?”
    He stared down at her, not knowing which was worse: the intentionally flirty vibe emanating from her beautiful face or the monstrous scene on stage. One sight scorched his vision, and the other could leave him scarred for life.
    She was a manipulator who used her charms at will, yet a part of him was impressed with her courage. A person had to be either stupid or brave to enter that alley in such a dangerous section of town. Initially he’d thought she was the first, but it was evident now that it was the second. And that hint of seduction beneath her pretense of assessing his clothes—all to get a look at his gun—had both tickled him and turned him on when it should have ticked him off. He was dismayed to realize he’d crossed the line. He
liked
her.
    An unfortunate complication.
    “No. I’m not uncomfortable with the play,” he lied, convinced she was hoping the outlandish musical would get him to bolt. But he had no intention of leaving without finishing their discussion. Like her or not, he would protect his interests. He turned his focus to the stage, hoping he had the fortitude to stick it out. “I will, however, admit I’m more comfortable in the back alley of a crime-infested neighborhood.”
    “Two artistic gangsters are preferable to three actors?”
    “They are when they wear clothes.”
    “I suppose it makes it easier to hide their weapons if they’re hostile,” she said, obviously amused he’d misinterpreted the men’s intent.
    “At least I have a concealed weapons permit. I doubt those two did. And I’m ninety-nine percent positive they were carrying,” he said. Then he nodded in the direction of the stage. “That’s a pretty hostile sight right there.”
    “Just promise me you won’t shoot the actors.”
    “My Glock is back in the glove compartment.” He risked a glance at the stage, wincing at an eyeful of a bouncing Hamlet dancing a Scottish jig. “Though I
am
tempted to retrieve it.”
    “I never knew network security consulting was so dangerous it required a weapon,” she said.
    Though her words were laced with her usual dry sarcasm, genuine curiosity radiated from her face, giving her amber eyes a warm glow, and the thrum of attraction settled deeper in his gut. Up until he’d pulled her against him in the alley she’d been just another beautiful woman he could ignore. After experiencing the dip at her waist and the soft curves firsthand, he was less confident. Since Mandy, and with the demands at Firewell, Inc., his relationships had been few and far between. Brief, superficial and uncomplicated worked best.
    And it didn’t get any more complicated than Carly Wolfe.
    Awareness burned through him, reaffirming that his vow not to touch her again was vital.
    He pushed it all aside, and said, “My day is typically weapon-free. The Glock is only in my car because I visited the firing range before work.”
    She shot him a look that went beyond mere curiosity. “Keeping up those skills, huh?”
    Hunter’s stomach lurched and he turned to stare at the stage, grateful the increase in volume of the music gave him a reprieve from responding. His weekly trips to the firing range were unnecessary, but he couldn’t seem to let go of the last routine he’d maintained since he’d been forced to leave the FBI, leaving a massive hole in his life.
    The sharp ache resurfaced and his jaw clenched. He enjoyed what he did now, but lately he’d been chafing at the monotony …
    Carly must have decided he refused to respond to her indirect question. “Why did you leave the FBI?” she asked.
    He turned to study her face. Though she was clearly digging for information, the genuine warmth he’d seen on the TV monitor that first day was back. What would she say