He wanted to help, and he probably could—if she
could trust him…
Olivia picked her chair up and sat. Sipping her
coffee, she watched him a few seconds. “Okay then.
Talk,” she finally said.
“I was military intelligence for a number of years, so
if it’s something where you need help in that direction,
I’m your man. If you need someone with weapons skills,
I’m your guy there, too.”
“Why would you think I need that type of help?”
“Since you got so offended when I made the
comment about your mother’s illness, my training tells
me there’s something else going on here than a mere fear
by a daughter of being held back by her mother’s issues.
Why don’t you tell me what is going on and let me see if
there’s any way for me to assist you.”
“Answer one question first.”
“Why? Why are you so gung-ho to help me? We’ve
never really hit it off and, all of a sudden, you’re being
kind and want to act like the Boy Scout who helps the old
lady across the street.”
The phone started ringing again. They let it play out.
Rocky picked up where they left off. “I want to help you
because I’m a nice guy, no matter what you might think,
and I see you need it. There’s a mob outside your door
who would eat you alive if given half a chance. You
could call Sharon to assist you but I’m quite sure my