Although my silence should reveal to Theresa her game plan is up, she refuses to acknowledge it. She continues chipping at my armor until she produces a hit so hard, it winds me.
“This isn’t just about you and a five-year long obsession, Alex. This goes way deeper than that.” She smiles in a way that displays the evil running through her veins before handing me a second folder. “If you’ve truly placed Ms. Myers above your legacy and your team, this may force you to reconsider your objective.”
My nostrils flare when I scan the article inside the folder. It is the contract I negotiated with the Bureau for Dane to be placed on Theresa’s team as a consultant. It is up for renewal at the end of the month.
“Dane has nothing to do with this.” My words mince through grinding teeth. “He’s an agent—”
“Wasan agent.”
I continue talking as if Theresa never spoke, “Who has given countless years of service to the Bureau. His family relies on this money, Theresa. They can’t survive on his disability insurance. He lives in the most expensive state in the country.”
Blood floods my cheeks when Theresa says sardonically, “I guess he’ll have to move.”
“Move?! He can’t move. It cost hundreds of thousands of dollars to have his house fitted with the equipment he needs to live a standard life. He’s over six feet tall; his wife can’t be expected to carry him up a set of stairs.”
She looks down at me, her hideous, evil eyes scanning my face. “All facts you should have considered before traveling miles across the country with a target—”
“Regan isn’t a target!” My voice is so loud, a lady entering a bakery next to us balks. After calming the anger scorching my veins with a few quick breaths, I say more respectfully, yet sternly, “She is a victim caught up in a world she doesn’t belong in.”
“If that is true, what harm will be done proving that?” Theresa asks, her tone lowering to a more understanding one.
I remain quiet, not trusting her, but having nothing to fall back on. I know Regan is innocent, so proving that isn’t an issue. It is the lying I’m struggling with. My plan today was to come clean to Theresa about the conflict of interest I have in this case. Then, once the dust settled on that, confessing my line of work to Regan was my next step. Now. . . I’m fucking lost.
I am to blame for Dane’s injuries, so shouldn’t I sacrifice my happiness to ensure he lives the best life possible? If you had asked me that same question only days ago, I would have answered yes without a smidge of doubt. Now I’m torn. I want Regan more than anything, but I owe Daneeverything.
“What do you need?” My voice is laced with so much anger, I have a hard time recognizing it.
“Names, dates, anything we can use to take down Isaac,” Theresa answers quickly, her briskness exposing her eagerness. She wants to take Isaac down almost as badly as I do. I just haven’t figured out why.
I rub my hand across my tired eyes before asking, “And that’s all you’ll do with the information? Take down Isaac?”
Theresa’s pause should riddle me with hesitation, but with my head not responsible for my thoughts, I pretend her dipping chin is in good faith.
It is stupid of me to do, but not as stupid as it is for her to underestimate me.
5
“What can I say? She’s a freak, and not in the way I like them.”
A halfhearted laugh escapes my lips as I slouch into my chair. “I wouldn’t let Kristin hear you say that. She’ll have you hung by your nuts.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Dane’s laugh is more genuine than mine. “Won’t be the last.”
When a deepoomphbarrels down the line, my first smile of the day cracks onto my lips. I should have known Kristin was by his side, supporting him. Excluding the day she gave birth to their second daughter, Addison, she hasn’t left his side since that fateful night five years ago. She’s the adrenaline pumping through his veins. The reason he wakes every day.She’s his Regan.
I wait for Dane to finish laughing before asking, “Did you forward the footage from Regan’s apartment to the DA handling Danielle’s case?”
Dane hums the start of his reply. “She said it wasn’t required, but I still shared what I found.”
His reply is short, but it doesn’t stop me missing the words he didn’t say. “You also believe Danielle will get off lightly?”
Dane’s second hum isn’t as strong as his first. “Most likely. It’s a sticky case. Your grubby mitts didn’t help.”
“What was I supposed to do? Let her attack Regan in a church full of witnesses?”
My reply is equally shocked and peeved. Shocked he doesn’t understand my objective—Dane protects his wife as fiercely as I guard Regan—and peeved he’s reading Regan’s stalker case in the same manner as me.
“Yeah, pretty much,” Dane replies, snubbing the fury in my tone. “Then the case would have more evidence than just a partial fingerprint discovered in a glove several floors down from the crime scene and the word of two scorned women.”
