Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 128307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Adeline nods. “Grayson removed it after you returned home from your last sting.” Anger envelops me when she makes light of a high invasion of my privacy. “It’s a shame. Your chemistry was the best reality program I’ve ever watched.” I glare at her, and she rescinds her expression of excitement. “Sorry. That was highly inappropriate.”
“As is everything else you’ve done thus far.”
“I know. You’re right. I should have never done what I did,” she pushes out, following me to my car. I have even less time now to confront Cameron since I have another pressing matter to attend to first. “But I saw the way you look at Grayson, and how he looks at you. Not just in person, but on the footage the surveillance equipment uploaded to the bureau’s servers.”
I walk even faster, my steps almost a jog.
After opening my door, I toss my bag onto the passenger seat before slipping behind the steering wheel.
Agent Cartwright shouts to be heard over the rumble of my engine, my compression on the gas too firm not to rev the motor. “Are you going to write me up for this?”
“No,” I answer, my reply sharp and to the point. “But that is solely because I can’t guarantee I’ll be your supervisor after my unplanned meeting with the head of our department.”
Her eyes widen in shock, but before she can utter a word, I slam my door shut and reverse out of the parking lot like I’m outrunning the Grim Reaper.
Since it is barely dawn, HQ is dark when I arrive. The only light source comes from Special Supervisory Agent Markwell’s office. He’s going over case files, and the harsh light of a desk lamp makes him look far older than his fifty-seven years.
He looks up when I enter his office, and surprise trickles across his face.
“Agent Machini…” He peers over my shoulder, as if anticipating a witness to our exchange. When he fails to find anyone, he shifts his eyes back to me. “Shouldn’t you be on bed rest?”
I close his door as anger bubbles in my veins. “Cut the crap, Markwell. I know about the doctor and how you paid him to get me out of the field.”
“Me?” My accusation genuinely surprises him. His bushy brows sit high on his face, and his mouth is ajar. “Those orders didn’t come from me.” He leans back, falsely portraying that he is unaffected by my furious glare. “You’re too close to this case. You’re making waves, and not the good kind.”
I step up to him, refusing to be intimidated. “Making waves for whom? Me, or whoever is pulling your strings?”
He takes my jab that he’s rogue like it has no basis whatsoever. “You don’t understand the politics of this job. Orders come from above. I merely follow them.”
“This isn’t politics, Markwell. These women are people, real fucking people who have no one looking out for them! I am the best agent to solve this case—”
“And you’re weeks out from giving birth!” He sighs while rubbing his temples. “We didn’t do this to hurt you, Macy. We’re trying to protect you.”
“And the women I’m trying to protect? What about them? What happens to them when you’re wasting resources wrapping me in cotton wool instead of tending to the people who really need it?”
He meets my gaze, and a trace of remorse darts through his eyes, but he remains tight-lipped.
Refusing to back down, I study him, searching for the truth like a skilled profiler would. He looks tired, like the job is affecting him as badly as it is Grayson. He is worn down not only by secrets but also by the lies his position forces him to tell.
“Who did the order come from?”
“I can’t tell you that—”
I slam my hand down on his desk, toppling over the stack of files he’s working on. “Who gave the order!”
He holds my glare for several long seconds before he pulls a single sheet of paper out of the top drawer of his desk and tosses it across the battered wood. It floats for barely a nanosecond before I snatch it up and scan the confidentially marked document.
My breath hitches halfway up my throat with the confirmation that Agent Cartwright isn’t ranked high enough to be privy to this information. My self-imposed imprisonment came from the top rung of the ladder—Grayson’s father, the director of the bureau.
With his hole already dug, Markell attempts to climb out of the trenches. “With the footage from Thompson’s case being uploaded to the bureau’s servers, he saw what Alex has been telling him for years—that you’re the only person who can remind Grayson that his life is still worth living. The last thing Director Rogers wanted was for him to experience another loss, so he put steps in place to stop that from happening.”