Page 16 of The FBI Agents Who Stole Me

“We always work. I gave you space because I knew what you needed. I know you, babydoll. You might have kept what you were doing from me, but I know everything about how you work. I know you will rake yourself over the coals to find justice.”

He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear with his free hand. The other loosens around my throat a fraction.

I’m an idiot, because I’m dying for him to kiss me. Being in Julian’s clutches while he stares down at me, it’s enough to make me combust.

I almost forget that I’m furious. I drive my knee into his thigh before my body can betray me any further.

“Damn it, Ettie.”

He drops his hold immediately. There is no anger on his handsome face, just disappointment. I should be used to it. Just another person I love let down by my inadequacy.

I will myself to bury the shame before he sees it. He’s the bad guy. Or I am. Either way, things are bad.

I slide past him and head back to the bedroom. I’m too tired to think, and Julian’s body pressed against mine just blew up my last working brain cell.

“This is what’s best,” he calls after me.

“Oh, and you know what’s best?” I ask, turning to face him.

“Yes.”

The word hangs between us.

I search his face, looking for doubt. I keep looking for guilt. Nothing. Absolutely no remorse. I roll my eyes.

“Where’s my phone?” I ask.

“In the bedroom.”

“Give it to me.”

He hesitates then exhales slowly, like he’s bracing himself. Like I’m the problem here.

“You can’t call anyone.”

“I didn’t say I would.” Then I let out a frustrated scream. Poor Jasper hides under the couch at my rage.

Julian stares at me, unfazed by my outburst. “You don’t know who’s compromised.”

“I know Elliot is. Seems you two are best buds now. Can I even trust you?”

He flinches at the words that landed harder than I intended.

“I’m still pissed at you,” I say, silently cursing myself for trying to explain why I’m being mean.

He turns to the bedroom, and I follow. I try not to stare at the way his shirt stretches across his muscular back. He gets my phone from the nightstand and hands it to me.

Holding the side button, I turn it on. There is no signal, obviously. I scroll through missed calls and messages. One name is conspicuously absent.

Why would I expect anything from him? He’s working with them. Against me.

I drop the phone on the bed and sink beside it. Every muscle in my body aches.

Julian lingers in the doorway, watching me like he’s waiting for me to bolt. Good. He should know not to try to force me to do anything I don’t want to do.

“I need information,” I say in a weak voice. “Elliot said they were watching me.”

“You need rest and some water.”