“I did what needed to be done.”
Grayson’s brows furl, but he saves his grilling for a later date.Thank fuck.My meeting with Regan was a disaster. First, I had to get through her father—whom I hadn’t seen since our last confrontation—her brother, and her mother, then I was chaperoned to her cabin with a three-car escort like I was an Arabian oil prince—or even worse, a criminal. And what’s the first thought I have when I see Regan after months of absence?I’d do it again and again and again if you were at the end waiting for me.
She ripped my heart out of my chest, threw it on the ground, then fucking stomped on it, but my cock didn’t care. He didn’t want to hear the facts my brain screamed at him. He wanted to hunt, to claim his prize. He wanted to fuck her so hard and fast she’d never forget he had been inside her.
Do you know what’s even more annoying than that? I want to place all the burden for my appalling thoughts on my cock’s shoulders, but I can’t. She broke me, yetIstill want her more than anything.
A feeble chuckle rolls up my chest when I scrub my hand across my chin. I never thought I’d regret the day I rediscovered a razor. I hated my beard. I felt like it was hiding me, but I kept it so long because the months I had it were some of the best months of my life.
My reappearance in Regan’s life at Ravenshoe started as a lie, but our connection altered it in an instant. We were real. . . until he fucked it all over.
“Did you bring me what I asked?”
Grayson smirks, amused by the superiority in my tone. With a cocky wink, he hands me a manila folder brimming with papers. His response isn’t surprising. He’s accustomed to the goodie-two-shoes brother, the one who followed the rules to the wire only to discover they don’t protect you when you need them the most. He’s never seen me like this. Now I’m the rule maker, the man you better not cross unless you’re willing to pay your penalty with your freedom. I don’t play dirty, but I don’t play nice anymore either. It’s hard to be kind when you don’t have a heart.
“How much time did Jay get?” I ask Grayson upon spotting Jay’s details at the top of the file.
Grayson screws up his face. “Not long enough, but they were lenient on him because he assisted in their investigation.”
I arch a brow, prompting him to answer my question without skirting. He follows suit rather quickly. “Stripped of his position and three months’ probation.”
“Three months’ probation? He fired his service weapon at a civilian. How can he only get three months’ probation?” Fury highlights my tone.
Grayson shrugs. “You’re lucky he got that. At one point, he nearly didn’t face prosecution.” Upon hearing my grinding teeth, he murmurs, “This is what happens when you leave an investigation before its finalized, Alex.”
My teeth grit more. My friend died. I had no fucking choice but to leave.
When I say that to Grayson, the edgy grin on his face subsides. “Sorry, I’m not thinking straight. We’re all still shocked about Dane. I’m in disbelief.”
I can tell he wants to say more, but shock is rendering him speechless. Dane was a confident, take no shit man, so his loss wasn’t just devastating, it was utterly blindsiding. No one saw it coming. Not even those closest to him.
“And Theresa? What slap on the wrist did she get?”
A huff parts my lips when I see my answer in Grayson’s remorseful eyes.
“Seriously? Nothing? She set up the entire thing. She blackmailed Jay to be her gofer. How could she not get suspended at the very least?”
Grayson’s lips tug high. “She’s suffering, just not in the way you’re hoping.”
I wait, completely fucking lost.
Thankfully, Grayson is as in tune with me as I am him. “She was transferred to the equivalent of jail for agents. She’s with IA.”
A disbelieving chuckle vibrates my chest. “The Bureau’s solution for a rogue agent is to put her in a department responsible for sniffing out rogue agents?”
“It’s a brilliant move when you sit back and think about it.” Grayson laughs. I fail to see the humor in his reply. “Come on, Alex. You know some of the best agents we have are ones we’ve transferred from the dark side. They know what criminals are thinking because they think like criminals.” He leans back in his chair, his shoulder nudging up. “Theresa will sniff out rogue agents because she knows what they smell like. I’m not happy they went down this path, but I understand why they did it. Once you work past your anger, you might as well.”
Apfftsounds from my mouth.I don’t see that ever happening.
Needing a distraction before my thoughts wander in a direction they haven’t strayed in years, I focus on the mammoth load of documents in my hand.
“Who’s this?” I angle an application to join my team from a recent recruit at an academy near San Francisco to Grayson.
He shrugs. “Don’t know. I didn’t pay her application much attention. I was brought in to ensure the operation didn’t fold while you were playing house, not take on new members. If you want to train a rookie, that’s your prerogative, but I sure as hell ain’t going there.”
His “play house” comment pisses me off, but I understand his hesitation about not taking on new recruits. Crew leaders have enough hassles keeping the bureaucrats from meddling in business they don’t belong in, let alone training people not up to the task.
With that in mind, I file Isabelle Brahn’s application to join my unit into the file Grayson compiled on Isaac the past five months. Taking advantage of the private jet’s generous spacing, I sort out the documents according to importance and timeframe. Although Grayson snickers at my eagerness, he assists in configuring a more suitable timeline.
