He studied her as she lifted her beer and took a sip. For a beat, she stared down into her glass, and when she looked back up, her gaze was suddenly wary, as if something had just occurred to her. “You don’t tell people about yourself very often, do you?” He shook his head. “Never in my existence.” She swallowed, holding his gaze. “You’re not going to kill me, are you?” Brigan wanted to laugh at this, to wave it off as absurd, but there was a growing kernel of awareness at the back of his mind that urged him to do exactly that. He’d told Catalina too much already, and even as infatuated as he
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