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“A cellular analysis on our four victims.”
He crossed his arms and regarded her for a minute. The intensity of his gaze made her want to squirm like some errant ten-year-old facing a headmaster. And that, more than anything, annoyed the hell out of her. What was it about this man that got to her so easily?
“Really? Why?”
She tilted her chair back, her knee brushing against his and sending warmth surging across her flesh. But he didn’t move, so nor did she. “All four were being prescribed Jadrone, and yet they were not on record as being shifters.”
“Jadrone has no effect on humans.”
“Exactly. And yet Maxwell was a junkie who got high on it regularly, and he and the others had been prescribed it since their teens. I think we need to find out why.”
He frowned. “I agree. But there was no mention of Jadrone being found in their systems.”
“Which makes me wonder why—especially with Maxwell. He was a junkie for years, and had severe bone degradation. It’s unclear whether the Jadrone is at fault or something else.”
“Are you doing a trace on the prescribing doctor?”
“Izzy’s handling it now. Why didn’t you mention that all four victims were adopted?”
“Why were you going through the files? You’re supposed to be handling the kite murders.”
“And the kite murders might well be connected to these murders.” She studied him for a moment, then added, “You can’t have it both ways, chum. Either you allow me to do my job properly, letting me follow all leads, or you confine me to this little box and the inane paperwork you keep dredging up, and get someone else to do the investigating.”
“You’ll do what I tell you to do. And right now, that’s investigating the kite murders—nothing more, nothing less.”
His face was remote, his eyes cold. She felt like strangling him. God, the man was aggravating! As he no doubt intended.
“Why are you here, Assistant Director? Planning to leave me another nice note, were you?”
His arms flexed, as if he were clenching his fists. “You left the safe house more than an hour ago. Where the hell were you?”
“Having coffee with a friend.”
“You don’t have any friends.”
“Obviously not.” An edge of bitterness crept into her voice. She took a deep breath and crossed her legs. Warmth still tingled where their knees had touched and she scratched at it irritably.
“That’s not…” Gabriel looked away from her gaze. “Next time, report in first.”
“Yes, sir.” This time she resisted the urge to salute.
His anger still washed over her, and she shuddered and leaned back, trying to get some fresh air.
Concern flitted briefly through his hazel eyes. “You okay?”
“Yes. Fine.” She rubbed her forehead briefly. She really had to go see a doctor. Not only about the headache, but the weird sensations that kept washing over her.
Izzy chose that moment to reappear. “You have a five-fifteen appointment with the animal quack, sweetness.”
“Thanks, Izzy.”
Gabriel gave her com-unit a somewhat disgusted look. But then, he wasn’t into cartoons. Or com-units with character. “You’re visiting a vet? Why?”
“My dog’s sick.” She’d be damned if she’d tell him the truth. He’d probably go interview the vet himself and leave her here in this shoe box doing another inane task.
“You don’t have a dog.”
“I will tonight.”
