Page 7 of Fixed Asset

But it wasn’t until after we had verification that the auction was actually taking place that he lost his mind and demanded for me to stay behind.

I defied his order. Not that it was in his power to order me to do anything. Actually, I’d outranked him during that operation. My bosses at the SOIB had cleared me to attend; the Marshals Service tended to frown on sex-trafficking twats and had been counting on me to help the FBI and Takeback, to make sure no one left without a pair of metal bracelets.

All of that to say—I’d heard Jack’s opinion on my judgment before, but I’d never heard him express it with anger tinged with hurt.

“I had it under control,” I reminded him.

“Are you talking about Vegas?” Pete asked.

“Yes,” I answered. “Jack has a problem with my work ethic.”

“Is that what you call putting yourself in danger?”

I drew in a breath in an attempt to keep a handle on my temper.

“No, Jack, that’s what I call doing my job. I didn’t seek employment with the Marshals Service to sit behind a desk and sip coffee while gossiping with my workmates. I signed up for the fieldwork.” I waved my hand around the open space. “Which, just to point out, you yourself have a very similar job.”

The tight line of his body and his frown indicated I’d scored a hit with that, but I wasn’t done.

“Either you see me as an equal or you don’t. Either you trust me to know myself, my limitations, and believe I’m damn good at keeping myself safe, or you don’t. In other words, your thoughts on the matter are not my problem, they’re yours. Obviously, I’m here working, same as you. Your kidnapping stunt was amusing until it wasn’t. Now, I have an assignment to get back to. If someone would please take me back to my hotel so I can get on with my day, I’d appreciate it.”

When I was done, three men were staring at their boots, and one looked like his head was going to explode.

Any guesses on which one looked ready to have a coronary?

“You’re right, it’s not my business.”

Good Lord, that hurt.

I didn’t want it to, but it did, all the way down to that place I pretended didn’t exist. The place that Jack had occupied for a few weeks, until he’d made it clear I wasn’t who he wanted, then it went back to being empty.

“Great.” I fake smiled. “Anyone up for giving me a ride or should I walk?”

And where the hell did my backpack go? I’d been so caught off guard with the hooding, I’d lost track of everything else.

As if reading my mind, Jack tipped his head to the side. “You’re not gonna ask, are you?”

His cheap shot pissed me off; so much so, I lost my temper.

Jack was no farther away than the length of the three-seater couch that looked like it had been dragged in from the dump. That meant I didn’t have far to go before I was in his face, which was unfortunate, because the minimal distance hadn’t allowed me to get a lock on my anger.

I rolled up on my toes, slammed my palms on his chest, and angrily clipped, “What’s your problem?”

“Me?” he smoothly rumbled. “I’m not the one—”

“Cut the shit, Donovan.”

His hands came up, circled my wrists, and tugged me closer. Mere inches separated our mouths. So close I could feel his exhales dance across my lips. Closer than we’d ever been, yet still not close enough.

How was it possible I wanted to kick him in his balls and beg him to finally kiss me at the same time? Well, not the same time. I wanted to kick him in his balls first, then after I had that satisfaction, I wanted to beg him to kiss me.

“You drive me insane,” I spat.

“Welcome to my world, woman.”

“I think I’ve seen a few X-rated films start like this,” Mason mused.

“Only you would call porn a film,” Pete muttered.