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“Yes, that. It was a cockblock in the most literal sense.”
“And so you became your own, unauthorized agent and entered into an international underworld where you had no experience, no backup, and not only could have ruined what was a years-long investigation acquiring plenty of useful information, despite your opinion otherwise, you could have also ended up dead.”
“Haven’t you figured that out? I’m dead inside already.”
Sawyer widened his eyelids like he was preparing for a roll. “You’re a bit old for teen angst.”
“Don’t belittle what you’ve now been given in a big, red bow. Not only do you have Trace and Theo”—my voice broke slightly on his name—“in custody, you also have Gordon Saxon.”
“All thanks to you?” Sawyer arched a brow.
“You certainly wouldn’t have gotten them by following the law to the goddamned letter.”
Sawyer steepled his fingers over my file. “You’ve gotten yourself in quite a lot of trouble, and now you’ve just admitted to willingly breaking the law.”
“I was given a tracker system made by the FBI that—turns out—was a pretty little IUD, made by an agent of yours who was likely a mole for Gordon Saxon. Not to mention, myanticshave exposed not one, but at least two weaknesses in the FBI pointing to leaks and more than likely the reason why Gordon has been able to stay out of your radar and continue his illegal activities without you guys able to do shit about it. And if that isn’t enough.” I steepled my own fingers as much as I could, considering my barriers, “I’ve asked for a lawyer and you’ve continued to question me, meaning anything I say after that request is inadmissible.”
One of Sawyer’s cheeks ticked like he was grinding his molars together.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “I’m teen angsty and smart.”
The metal door, painted a dull green, behind Sawyer opened with thebang, and a large figure overtook the doorway, his belt jangling when he moved into the light of the room.
Shit.
I fell back in my chair, hoping to dislodge the chill along my spine, that incessant numbness of fear that constantly occurred when his name was mentioned, never mind his presence.
“I see you’re your usual pleasant self,” Chenko said to me as he approached. He meandered over to Sawyer’s chair and rested an arm on the back for balance. To his credit, Sawyer seemed displeased.
Staring Chenko down wasn’t the greatest weapon, but it was all I possessed. One was never supposed to show fear when confronted by something bigger, badder, no matter how overweight and bulbous. Chenko made his hunt clear two years ago, and had been circling me ever since. If this was the moment he bit into my throat, so be it, but it didn’t mean I’d go limp in his jaws.
“Being a gentleman to her doesn’t work,” Chenko said out the side of his lips. “She prefers the bad boys, don’t you honey? The ones who like it rough.”
I remained tight-lipped.
“Leave her to me,” Chenko continued. “I’ll get the information you need out of her.”
“I don’t believe that is wise,” Sawyer replied, and for the barest moment my eyes cut to him in surprise.
“Not all of us are unseemly,” Sawyer said to me. Chenko responded with a frown, but as he continued to stand and Sawyer remained seated, he seemed to take authority from physical position, because he said, “You wanted her here, I got her, boss. You wanted her arrested a week ago, and I convinced you to leave her long enough to lead us to our guys. And she did. I was right. I implore you not to forget that.”
My eyelids flickered, the only sign I was thinking. Chenko was aware of my location the entire time I was in London—ofcoursehe was. He was Gordon’s guy, meaning he was receiving information at the same time he funneled it. What game Gordon was playing remained unclear, but if Chenko knew my location, if he knew everything I was up to the minute I boarded a Saxon charter plane … oh, God.
Chenko knew about Bo.
The gleam when he regarded me told me he knewexactlywhat went on in that London apartment.
“I won’t forget your role in this,” Sawyer said to Chenko. My attention flicked over to him, but for once, could not read what was going on in his features. Sawyer was schooled, professional, not an ounce of anger or competition on his face. As if he dealt with Chenko on a daily basis and was used to his puffery.
Could Sawyer be one of Gordon’s men, too? No, he was much too professional, play-by-the-rules, kind of person. Unless this was duplicity at its finest. Be the person everyone expects you to be, and no one would suspect the devil’s playground underneath.
I could trust no one.
“Then allow me to leave you with a piece of advice,” Chenko said, bursting through my paranoia. “In order to get this girl to do anything, she requires incentive. Allow me to show you?”
Sawyer studied me, tapping his pen against my file. My stony silence must have given him the answer he needed, because he said, “By all means.”
Chenko leaned on the table, his hands as anchoring fists to his meaty, stumpy arms. His balding head reflected the bulb of light above us. He was small, paunchy, more red-faced than flawless, but he was not to be ignored.
