Page 23 of Untamed Sinner

Gabriel Reyes.

The man who found her. Freed her. The man she trusts enough to call when she needs something. The man she thinks of calling when I’m sitting right fucking here.

That one bothers me more than it should.

Considerably more.

I turn away because looking at her while experiencing an emotion I don’t entirely understand seems strategically unwise. I brace my hands against the counter and stare out the window.

“I didn’t ask.”

“You didn’t have to.”

No, apparently I didn’t.

The jealousy doesn’t disappear now that I’ve identified it. If anything, putting a name to it makes the situation worse.

Jealousy implies possession, and I have absolutely no claim on Mandy Reed.

The fact that I want one is a real problem.

24

MANDY

Ishould let it go. Should focus on the investigation, on finding the girl, on staying alive long enough to figure out what Ashford wants. But I can't. Because Hendricks doesn't get jealous. He's too disciplined, too controlled, too fucking practical for emotions like that.

Except he's standing in his kitchen looking at me like he wants to put his fist through a wall, and it's because I mentioned another man's name.

Well, now I have to fuck with him. It’d be irresponsible not to. “Great. Since we’ve established Gabriel isn’t a problem, I’ll call him.”

Hendricks turns around, and his eyes narrow.

I smile sweetly. “What?”

“You’re enjoying this.”

“Immensely.”

We stare at each other across the kitchen, him in a quandary I can’t imagine and me feeling like Christmas came early.

Then he moves, approaching, stopping directly in front of me, close enough that I can smell soap and something darker, something distinctly him that makes my pulse quicken.

He’s fucking with me now—I know this—but as his hand stretches out, my breath catches and I freeze like a deer in headlights.

He doesn’t touch me. He only picks up the notebook on the table beside me. “I’ll run the photo on the last page of the notebook through my checks and see what comes up.”

Swallowing thickly, I nod, all my previous glee evaporated in a haze of lust.

“I’m also going to ask a colleague to look at it,” he says finally, his voice rough. “He has access to databases I don’t.”

I don’t like the idea of it being out of my hands—it feels like if I keep her close, I can make sure she’s okay—but I know it’s for the best. “How long is that going to take?”

“A day, two tops,” he replies, stepping away, his professional mask back in place. “Facial recognition takes time. Cross-referencing missing persons databases, social media scrapes, dark web forums, none of that’s instantaneous.”

Two days is nothing. I’ve spent the past five weeks searching to no avail, and I know how good Hendricks and his resources are. But I hate that he holds all the cards at the moment. I don’t like not having control.

So I poke. “Okay, Jimmy.”