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“You wish I begged!”
Tension radiates like live wires between us. She’s looking at me with such a mix of hatred, lust, and determination that I want to let her run away.
With me right on her heels.
But I can’t.
Because I have a job to do.
I look up at the open window. “I assume you can’t scale walls?” I ask her.
She huffs.
“Then we need to go back in the house the normal way. Through an actual door.” I reach for her arm to guide her. She wrenches it away. My fingertips burn with the feel of her.
That’s all I’m getting for now.
I guess it’s better than nothing.
At least she’s still here, weaving her way through the bushes alongside the house’s foundation, finding grass and a stone path that winds around to the back door.
My gun is in my waistband. Lindsay’s in sight.
Just another night at work, right?
Chapter 4
Lindsay sits on her bed, pretending to read on her phone. Her long blond hair is pulled back in a ponytail, eyes hard, mouth tight.
She looks like her mother.
The whole pretending-to-be-bored schtick makes her seem even more like Monica.
Except Monica really is bored most of the time.
Every few seconds, Lindsay’s tongue pokes out to lick the tiny split in her lip. It’s healing slowly from the car accident. God, that was just a few days ago, wasn’t it? Time telescoped the second the helicopter landed on that island five days ago, when I checked her out and brought her back to her real life.
Paulson’s standing near the door, taking it all in, silent. Gentian’s nervous, primed for emergency where one no longer exists.
This is my tactical team. This.
I couldn’t ask for better people.
“Is this going to take long? I’m hungry,” Lindsay whines.
I roll my eyes.
“Should have thought about that before you decided to skip out on us and nearly create an international scandal.”
“I aim to please,” she says with a smirk, not looking up from her screen.
It’s all an act. She knows it, I know it, and Paulson definitely knows it. He frowns, giving me a look that asks, Fill me in later?
I nod.
“Lindsay’s attackers have been texting her. Started during or right after the car was tampered with.”
Paulson perks up. “You trace the texts?”
