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“What’s your background in this? Why did you join the bureau?”
“I wanted—”
“No, not the agency crap you spouted for Buck. Why, personally, did you want to be an FBI agent?” he asked gruffly.
That got her back up a little. She didn’t spout anything. Why was he questioning her like this? Determined to prove herself, she said, “My mom was in New York City on business attending Fashion Week for Saks Fifth Avenue. She was one of their premier buyers. She’s now with Michael Kors at his corporate office in New York City. But back in September of 2001, she was in Bryant Park just before the Oscar de la Renta show when the first plane hit the tower. She was consequently stranded after they canceled Fashion Week as all air traffic was halted. Phone lines were jammed, and I couldn’t get through to my mom. I had no idea if she was alive or not. It was the single most terrifying event in my life, made even more horrific by all the parents who did die on that day.”
“Wow. How old were you?”
“Eight. I had already lost my dad to the Battle of Mogadishu just after I was born. I didn’t even have a chance to get to know him.”
“I’m really sorry, Bree. That must have been hard.”
She nodded. “I’ll tell you all about it some time.”
“We’ll swap stories for sure,” he said. “You said you wanted to be an FBI agent since you were a little girl. How did you prepare for that?”
“Do you want my credentials? Don’t you think I can handle this job?”
“I didn’t say you could or couldn’t. I’m just asking.”
She got up and paced away. Then she went into the small kitchen and found the whiskey. The pressure of being in charge, then having to justify herself was irritating. But Blitz had a right to know who he was partnering with. She downed the shot in one go, the alcohol burning its way to her stomach, leaving a warm glow.
She braced her hands on the countertop, working at her sudden anger. She thought he’d trusted her.
He came up behind her, his closeness overwhelming her senses, and she swallowed hard, trying to struggle against the longing that surged through her, making her heart race even faster. “Tell me about your journey.”
Her insides were in a turmoil, so sensitized to him that she was conscious of every movement, every breath. Her attraction mixed in with the resentment of having to put her résumé out there to be scrutinized. “I started preparing in high school, did Future Leaders Exchange sponsored by the State Department in Kazakhstan, honing my Russian. It was my first trip there, then a year abroad in Moscow, then another State Department exchange, this time to Mali where I was exposed to French and Bambara, then as youth ambassador through another State Department program in the Bureau of Educational and Cultural Affairs Exchange.”
She stepped toward him, driving him backward, her voice rising a bit. “This time to Rio where I mastered Portuguese and Spanish. In college it was as part of CIEE to Beijing, China, Mandarin. My first year after college I signed on with AmeriCorps California sponsored in conjunction with FEMA where I was a team leader.”
She poked him in the chest as she continued moving him backward. “My first official job was as an LAPD patrol officer for two years where I met a minor girl who was being trafficked, built a rapport with her, and identified the people involved. It got the attention of the FBI’s Child Exploitation and Human Trafficking Task Force, who worked with me to bring them down. I’d identified an extensive network of both American and overseas girls, a ring of six traffickers. Two main offenders each got sixteen years in prison. With victim statements, combined with search warrants and electronic evidence, I helped bring down an additional four traffickers who played other roles, such as leasing apartments used for trafficking, recruiting girls and women, transportation, security, and collecting money. After my patient rapport-building with traumatized victims, as well as traditional investigative work such as search warrants, surveillance, data analysis, and coordination of multiple agencies, I was asked to apply to the FBI and got in as an agent on my first try. Been with the FBI for five years.”
As the back of his legs hit the edge of her bed, he sat down on the mattress, and she towered above him, her flurry of words ending. She lifted her chin, battling the knee-weakening awareness of his large male form on her bed.
“Impressive,” he murmured, only making her more determined to defend herself.
She leaned down right into his face, anger flickering through her. “On the Fly Team, I have been toe to toe with fanatical jihadists, Taliban members, young, radicalized Americans, and shrewd terrorism facilitators who were making a buck off of murder.” Feeling shaky and emotionally exposed, she finished with, “Why do you need an accounting of my résumé? Don’t you trust me?”
He held her gaze, his expression softening, something in his eyes making her heart contract. “I didn’tneedyour résumé. Youneededto remind yourself why you’re here, what you have to offer, and not to feel guilty about taking Greg’s place. You speak more languages than him, have had a wealth of experience, and are supremely qualified for this job,” he said, his voice husky with strain, his eyes going to her mouth.
Letting her breath go in a rush, Bree closed her eyes, a thousand feelings speeding through her. And every one of them was tied to Callen Berenger.
“Damn you,” she said as her anger fractured and the passion that was wound through it was all that was left.
Taking his face between her hands, she leaned into him, her mouth hovering over his as she looked into those deep green eyes, showing her that every nerve in his body was as stretched to the limit as hers were. She shuddered out a breath, her lips closing that gap, her mouth covering his. Blitz inhaled sharply and cupped the back of her neck. Murmuring her name, he drew her toward him, and she folded her legs on either side of him as he pulled her over his thighs and hard against his groin. A low sound was dragged from deep inside her when she felt him hard and fully aroused against her.
6
The conference cocktailmeet and greet was still in full swing, although Harley did note that Blitz and Bree had left. She couldn’t really blame her. Bree had been through something harrowing and tough to deal with. The SEALs were hardened and tested. Even she and Isabelle, through their Shadowguard adventures, had the kind of experience to handle those ops, but Bree had been thrust, albeit willingly, into a real firefight. The kind that tested the strongest of people.
Harley always considered herself a good judge of character, and she suspected that Bree West was made of titanium. She would rise to the occasion, not only because of her job. The girl was a true, dedicated, dyed-in-the-wool patriot. And the job of hunting down the people responsible for the Ogdens’ deaths was going to take the equivalent of the CIA, FBI, and the SEALs. If she was a betting woman, all her chips would be on Bree.
“I was sent here to handle the conference. My government feels that they should be involved in humanitarian endeavors,” Aleksei said, drawing her attention back to the matter at hand.
Speaking of being a good judge of character… This is what made him a good diplomat. He actually delivered the line with conviction and a straight face. Harley had gone back and forth with her suspicions that Aleksei Volkov was a womanizer. But then the night he’d been wounded at the Lincoln Memorial had changed her thinking about him. It was true he had charisma, charm, and the desire for excitement, but the way he’d treated her and talked about his mom and sister didn’t jive with the typical womanizing narcissistic traits. Womanizers also rarely pursued a woman like Harley. She wasn’t even in the realm of submissiveness, had strong boundaries, and was strong in her own self-worth. Womanizers normally didn’t pursue strong women. They preyed on emotionally weak women.
After Volkov’s politically correct response, Izzy wasn’t going to let that pass. She was now the leading diplomat in Niger, but this was Aleksei. The man never did anything politically or personally without a reason. He wasn’t exactly favored at the Kremlin, but his father was a high-ranking cabinet member. Unlike Aleksei, he had no love whatsoever for the United States.
