Chapter 13 #2
“Too late,” I reply before I can stop myself.
Hating the remorse in her eyes that she doesn’t deserve to have, I use the skills I’ve gained in bucketloads since leaving the academy.
“How do you know about the damage I did to St. Eugene’s grounds?
You would have been in your final year of college at the time.
Your records show you studied at the Academy of Arts in San Fran. ”
She hesitates for only a second. “One… thanks for making me feel as old as dirt.” She ribs me with an elbow, letting me know her comment is meant to be playful.
“Two, the gallery I mentioned earlier is in the same neighborhood as St. Eugene’s.
Your antics that night were the talk of the town the entire week I spent there negotiating a showing.
” Lines sprout from her tiny yet still-noticeable nose when she murmurs, “But I never heard anything about an abduction. Who were the assigned agents?”
“My father.” For two short words, it takes a mammoth effort to deliver them.
The whistle I used earlier returns, this time from Macy’s side of the car.
I huff. “It didn’t do any good having the golden boy of the bureau on her case. She is still missing seventeen years later.”
Leaning over and squeezing my hand, she strokes my ego so well that I’m worried I’ll struggle to exit the vehicle safely once we arrive at our destination.
“You won’t be able to say the same soon because that title no longer belongs to your father.
It belongs to you, Grayson.” Another squeeze and another reassurance.
“You will find her. We will find her. I know we will.”
A grin tugs at her lips when I lift my chin, and then she shifts her focus back to the landscape flashing past her window, no more words needed to authenticate the sheer honesty in her eyes when she made her pledge.
We fall into comfortable silence, the engine noise as we bridge the miles between us and the apartment oddly comforting since the weight on my shoulders is nowhere near as heavy now as it was seconds ago.
An hour later, I take the exit for the sleepy coastal town we’re currently undercover in when a groan pops from Macy’s lips. After placing her hand on her stomach, she gently circles it.
“Are you okay?” I ask while seeking somewhere safe to pull over.
“It’s okay. Keep going,” she encourages, her pained expression switching to relief. “It’s just the baby doing somersaults.”
I nearly reach out to touch her belly, but stop myself just in time, certain that anyone outside our car would view it as inappropriate.
I shouldn’t have bothered remembering protocol when it comes to this lady. After another grunt, more in humor this time than panic, Macy snatches up my hand and places it over her swollen midsection.
“Wow.” I breathe out slowly, feeling the kicks and tumbles she mentioned. “That’s incredible.” I lock eyes with her, equally amazed. “And a little freaky.”
Her lips twitch before her laughter fills the cab of the car. “I’m so glad you said that. I was getting worried you’re immune to all the stuff men are meant to be weird about.”
Taking a page out of her book, I murmur, “Stuff… what stuff?”
“Breast pads, stool-clogging vitamins, and heartburn-eradicating drinks. I’m not a pro on the male psyche, but I’m reasonably sure you were meant to snatch your hand back within a second of me placing it on my stomach. Not keep it there for eternity.”
I slowly withdraw my hand from said body part, but not without protest. Though my pouting lip is immature, it keeps Macy’s smile firmly planted, so I let it hang.
It tucks back in when we finally reach our destination. As we pull into the driveway of our building, I notice a government-plated sedan parked in our spot.
“That son of a bitch!” Macy mutters, flinging off her belt.
The silver clasp almost smacks me in the face with how far she flings it, and she exits the car remarkably fast for someone heavily pregnant.
I have to jog to catch her, but I’ll allow more than one hit if she chooses to respond with violence when I recognize the face of the man she’s approaching. It is the agent who was assigned to the case with her at the start of the investigation—the douche who claimed the only bed available.
From the sleazy look Agent Thompson gives Macy when she snatches a box he’s carrying out of his arms, his reasoning smacks into me hard and fast. He thought forcing her out of the only bed in the apartment would force her to share his.
Not on my watch, fuckface.
“Nice to see you again, too, freckles.” Agent Thompson rolls his teeth over his lower lip as his hooded gaze fixates on Macy’s breasts.
“Don’t call me that.” Macy’s snarled words sizzle off Thompson’s cheek when she sidesteps him to remove another file box from an agent I’ve yet to meet. “It is Agent Machini or nothing.”
“I wouldn’t,” I warn when Thompson’s face reveals he is as corrupt as his IA file portrays.
Thompson cowers when he finally notices me. He couldn’t take his eyes off Macy’s ass for even a second to acknowledge my presence. “Grayson—”
“Special Supervisory Agent Rogers,” I correct. “You can call me Agent Rogers if the title is too long for you to articulate.” I scan my eyes across the empty bulletin boards that were brimming with documents only twenty-four hours ago. “Who authorized the retrieval of these files?”
“Why do I need authorization?” Thompson’s tone is calm and measured. “They’re my files too.”
“You haven’t worked on them in months,” Macy replies before I can.
Thompson’s shit-eating grin fades, replaced with a look of cold calculation.
“Because you accused without considering the consequences of your actions. Again. So that left you out in the cold, Agent Machini.” He mocks her title as if she hasn’t netted a dozen more collars than he has in the prior twelve months alone.
I step forward, my narrowed eyes locked on Thompson when Macy gives credit to the assumption that he’s a douche.
“It isn’t an accusation when it’s true.” The tension is thick and suffocating, worsening when she adds, “No means no, Thompson. If you’ve already forgotten that, I’m more than happy to teach you another lesson. ”
My hands clench in barely restrained anger when Thompson sneers, “You think you’re so righteous. Always playing the victim. They may have believed your sob story about Agent Moses, but it won’t work with me. You have no proof—”
Macy beats me at silencing him. She slaps him the way she did her mother—with a closed fist. She doesn’t stop at one hit this time, though.
She continues pounding into him until I have no choice but to intervene.
I don’t give a shit about Agent Thompson’s bloody teeth or his already swelling eye.
I hate that Macy’s knuckles are as red as her cheeks, and she’s about to cry.
Those points are the sole reason I step in.
Thompson’s eyes flash with anger when I drag a red-faced Macy away from him, and his words seethe through an already fat and split lip. “I’ll have your badge for this.”
I meet his gaze, unflinching. “Try… and the only time you will ever step foot inside headquarters again will be when you’re indicted for harassment.”
There’s no dishonesty in my tone. No leniency. I will strip him of more than his badge, and my retribution will begin with a one-on-one meeting with the woman who slid the gold band on his left hand, unknowingly marrying a wannabe, or perhaps even already, abuser.
When Thompson sees the truth in my eyes, he marches for the exit. The unnamed agent shadows his exit after a mumbled defense that he was only asked to help gather bureau-owned files.
Macy sags into my embrace when the door slams shut.
I assume she’s exhausted from the fight she put up, but I learn otherwise when her tone lowers more with every empty inch her eyes scan.
“He took everything. It’s all gone.” I let her down, and when she spins to face me, the regret in her eyes hits me full force. “How will we ever find them now?”
“I’m not worried about what he has. I am more worried about your hand hitting a chunk of silicone twice in twelve hours.” I guide her into the kitchen, where the space is less confined now that the mountains of files are gone. “We should ice it.”
“My hand is fine.” She pulls away from me and heads for the main entrance. “We need to stop him before he leaves with our files. Regathering them will take months.”
Her “we” and “our” statements aren’t shocking.
We work as a team because we are a team.
I slice her long strides to the door in half when I say, “He took the files I wanted him to take.”
I wait for her eyes to meet mine before announcing that I used her guest speaker confirmation at the gala as bait to lure the person working against her out of hiding.
“It didn’t take a genius to realize the men you’re investigating received every report you filed over the past six months.
The signs were as obvious as a flashing neon light, and I’m guessing the sole reason you no longer lodge accurate reports?
” I thank her for her honesty with a smile when she wordlessly agrees with me before I turn to face the television. “Did you get anything useful, punk?”
When Brandon’s smirking mug fills the screen, Macy startles more now than she did when Thompson screamed in her face. He isn’t ugly. She just didn’t anticipate another participant to join our team so soon after its formation.
Macy’s wide eyes shoot to me when Brandon replies, “Enough to take down Thompson and half of Markwell’s team.”