Page 107 of The Diamond in the Rough

After we’d left Jennings’s house, the team had reassembled in one of the work rooms in the basement of the FBI building, laying out evidence, documenting, analyzing, discussing, trying to connect Jennings to the Gates-Adams case.

I’d tried to essentially disappear into a corner, huddled in an uncomfortable folding chair, waiting for the moments when someone would remember I was there because they wanted me to touch something. It had only happened a few times, but when I’d asked Hart if I should leave, he’d shaken his head.

So I’d stayed.

It was late. After-dinner late, not that any of us had eaten.

And when Hart had turned to me to ask if I was ready to go, Raj had intervened, saying that he could take me home. Hart—probably wanting to see Taavi—had nodded and told me to get some rest.

Raj turned away from the others, then came close enough that it would be clear he was talking to me.

“Let’s go,” he said.

I stood and followed him out to the parking lot, not saying a word. I didn’t know what to say. Whether it would be appropriate to comment on everything that had happened that day, whether I should ask about the cameras Jennings had set up, what he thought would come of all of it… or to apologize again for having invaded his dreams.

I wasn’t sure how to do the first and too mortified to do last, so I kept my mouth shut and hoped I wouldn’t make things worse.

I couldn’t tell if it was better or worse that he didn’t say anything, either. At least not until he’d pulled up in front of my building.

“Rayn,” he said, as I reached for the door handle.

I paused, then turned my head to look at him.

“You have to know this can’t work,” he said, his voice strained.

“What?” I asked. Me working on cases for the FBI? Or on this case, specifically?

“This,” he repeated, then gestured between us.

I stared at him. “I don’t understand,” I admitted, feeling my face heat.

He let out a sigh. “You and me,” he said, his voice sounding a little like he was having trouble saying the words. “Whatever… Whatever happened in…” He let out another sigh. “Just whatever.”

I frowned. “I?—”

“I’m more than a decade older than you are,” he blurted.

I blinked, even more confused than before.

“I was almost twelve when you were born.Twelve. Practically a teenager. I could have babysat you as a kid.”

I had no idea what was going on, so I just stared at him.

Raj ran a hand through his thick hair. “To say nothing of the fact that we’reworkingtogether. The FBI really hates that.”

“We can’t work together because you’re twelve years older than me?” I asked, when it became clear that he wasn’t going to provide any further explanation.

“What? No.” He looked startled. “We can work together. We can’t… I can’t…” He swallowed.

I waited.

He let out another sigh, this one almost harsh. “We can’t date,” he said finally.

I blinked. “I?—”

“That’s why you were in my dreams, wasn’t it?” he asked, suddenly, and in gloom of twilight, the whites around his gold-brown irises were wide.

I felt my cheeks heat. I hadn’t actually thought aboutdatinghim. I’d thought about kissing him. About him touching me. About me touching him. Doing more than just touching. But I hadn’t explicitly thought aboutdating.