Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Alison gave me a cold glare as we approached, and I did the same, keeping up the pretense. Then, as we passed and I looked back over my shoulder, there was a brief second when the others couldn’t see.
Her expression changed in a heartbeat. Fear. Panic. And something that reached right down inside me and hit me where I lived: concern. She’d just survived an attempt on her life, and she was worried about me.
Park, I mouthed, and she nodded.
An hour later, Alison roared up on her bike and pulled in next to my car, then hurried across the grass to me. We were in the same spot where I’d given her the cesium tip, but today a cold wind was blowing across the lake, cutting straight through my suit, and winding cold fingers around my bones.
Alison pulled off her helmet. “We’d better make this fast. My boss thinks I’m at the sandwich store. What the fuck is going on?”
I stepped closer and, immediately, I could feel myself reacting to her. The base instincts, first, my cock hardening in my pants at the sight of her legs in that tight leather. Then the more complicated feelings: the ache in my chest when I saw the lock of hair that had escaped her tight bun and fallen across her cheek, the temptation to hook it with one big, clumsy finger and brush it back behind her ear… God, the pull towards her was off the charts, now.
She saw me staring and frowned. “What?” She crossed her arms, tough as ever. But I could hear the tiny tremble in her voice that gave away how scared she was. And that brought out the most dangerous feeling of all, the one that made me want to pull her to my chest and shield her from the entire fucking world. When I thought of someone breaking into her apartment, pointing a gun at her… I am going to find this man. I am going to find him and personally remove him from this world–
I blew out my breath through my nostrils. A few months ago, I’d hated this woman. Now, the idea of someone hurting her made me crazy.
I looked away and forced my voice to be level. “One of my rivals must be trying to get rid of me. They know you’re investigating me, so if you’re murdered, I’m the prime suspect. They send an assassin to your apartment, then have someone in the FBI fake the evidence so it points to my gun. If you hadn’t told me to get rid of it, I’d be in jail for the next decade.”
“So who are your rivals?” Alison asked.
I rubbed at my stubble. “That’s a long list.” I looked sideways at her. “A better question: who is their inside person at the FBI?”
She sighed and looked out over the lake, thinking. After a few seconds, she did something I’d never seen her do before: she lifted herself up on her tiptoes, stayed there for a moment, and then slowly sank back down. It was hypnotic and not just because of her leather-clad legs flexing gracefully. It was like I was seeing some private part of her, something that she only did when she was alone. Which meant, in some weird way, that she trusted me.
At last, she turned to me. “I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.”
I stepped closer, and now I could smell that cherry and vanilla scent of her. Chyort, I wanted to just grab her waist and bring my lips down on that pouting, stubbornly determined mouth…
She’s a fucking FBI agent. The enemy. I repeated it and repeated it in my head, but even then, I had to bunch my fists to stop me reaching for her. And there was this…ache in my chest. I didn’t want her to go. Didn’t want her anywhere but securely in my arms, where I could protect her. I took a deep breath. “Be very careful,” I managed.
She nodded, pulled on her helmet, and ran to her bike. The wind had turned bitter, sending my suit jacket billowing out behind me and making my forehead throb with the cold. But I stood there watching until she was a speck in the distance.
23
ALISON
That afternoon, I sat at my desk pretending to work while my stomach tied itself in knots. I wasn’t just scared, I felt utterly lost. I’d spent my entire career in law enforcement, and there’d always been an unspoken bond, a kind of family. Sure, cops argue, but we always have each other’s backs. But now...
Someone at FBI Chicago had conspired to kill me. And most likely, it was someone on my team: they would have had easiest access to the evidence.
I felt like a tree someone had torn out of the earth, roots jangling like exposed nerves. I couldn’t trust anyone, and I just wanted—