Rocky Ride (Thompson & Sons)
left on her desk.
    “What’s up? Did I miss something on the Cranston case?” she asked.
    He put down the papers he’d been poking through, instead pacing across the room. “I didn’t say anything the other day, but I have to ask. What’s up with you and Mitch Thompson?”
    Oh boy. And so it began.
    Anna sat, waking her computer and checking the last thing she’d had open. The fact Nick hadn’t mentioned finding her at the dirt track had been wonderful—and strange.
    She should have known it was too good to last. “Not sure what you’re asking.”
    Nick sighed heavily, his dark eyes focusing sharply on her as he seemed to change the topic again. “It was a shock to discover you in the middle of a bunch of off-roaders. I had no idea you were into that kind of thing.”
    She shrugged. “Good clean fun, if you don’t mind the mud. They’re not illegal, and from what I can tell, the Blackstones have gone out of their way to make sure they’re not disturbing any of their neighbours.”
    “Still surprised me,” Nick insisted. “With the rise in biker-gang activity all over the province, you might want to rethink being involved in that kind of situation again.”
    A snort of disbelief escaped before she could stop it. “You’re not serious. We were riding dirt bikes, not hogs, and there’s no connection whatsoever between any gang activity and those guys innocently tearing up some spare land at the Blackstone property.”
    “And Mitch?”
    Anna rose to her feet and steeled her spine. “Again, not sure what you’re asking. Or if it’s any business of yours what I do outside of work time.”
    Nick raised his hands and backed off. “Hey, no need to get snooty. Just—”
    “Snooty?” Anna laughed, but there was a touch of anger under her amusement. “Good grief, Nick. Don’t try that on me. You have something to say, say it. Don’t go suggesting I just dropped a load of teenage angst on you.”
    “Fine. Straight out, unless you’re doing court-ordered community work with him, I would suggest you not be seen in public with Mitch Thompson.”
    A strange sensation churned her gut—annoyance on Mitch’s behalf, and a huge load of disgust at herself for hesitating in getting involved with him earlier. Having Nick toss his unwarranted bias against Mitch in her face only made it that much clearer how wrong she’d been in trying to hide her interest.
    She crossed her arms and stared Nick down for a moment before she dared to speak. “Give me one solid piece of evidence you have that puts Mitch on any kind of watch list,” she demanded.
    Nick opened his mouth then closed it just as quickly. He looked away, refusing to meet her eyes. “He’s got all the classic profiling for trouble. That’s all I’m saying.”
    “And I’m saying we judge people by their actions, not the clothes on their back or the marks on their skin.” Anna breathed out slowly, fighting for control. “The Thompson family has been in the community for generations. Never a lick of trouble from them.”
    “He’s bad news,” Nick insisted.
    “Because he’s got tattoos? Because he rides a bike, or what? What are you basing your accusations on?”
    “The tip sheets clearly—”
    “God, Nick, where the hell are you getting these tip sheets you’re obsessing over? Because as far as I know tattoos and bikes alone don’t push anyone into becoming one of the criminal element.”
    “Fine,” Nick cut in. “You obviously don’t want to listen to reason. I’ll be around if you need anything, otherwise I won’t bring it up again.”
    He stormed from their office as if he were the injured party. Anna unclenched her fingers that had instinctively curled into tight fists during their discussion .
    Yet another blot on her conscience that she’d ever given even a moment’s thought to Mitch’s reputation. She’d been as bad as Nick.
    No more.
    She headed home, showered and changed quickly in an attempt to scrub off her frustration.

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