Her right hand slid into her jacket pocket, and held the pepper gas. Insurance.
"I saw you on the television," he said. He took a corner a bit clumsily, and Dayne was startled when she realized he didn't drive very well. He had a problem with his clutch, and had to look at the stick when he shifted gears. He seemed unaware of her scrutiny. "You looked good," he told her. "But you also looked like someone who could use an excuse for an escape."
"I was getting tired of answering the same questions in different ways," she agreed.
"You were very nice to them." He looked left and right, started to turn left, and muttered, "Damn. One way street."
"Charlotte's full of them," she told him. "I was afraid the mob would stone me if I didn't explain things to them."
Adam laughed. "After last night? If you'd told 'em to kiss the ground you walked on, they would have."
"Last night?"
"When you took apart the local reporter—you didn't know they ran that clip on CNN?"
Dayne smiled a toothy smile. "I figured they must have run it somewhere—the male reporters today y