Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
Of course he was going to cut her out. He didn’t have a choice.
There was too much at stake here. First and foremost, he wanted to nail these guys and send them to jail. Innocent people were being ripped off, paying astronomical prices for prescription drugs so they could line Chatterton’s pockets.
And ripping off Medicare cost every single American money in the long run.
A case like this would send a clear message to other corporate CEO’s that the Justice Department wouldn’t tolerate price-fixing and corporate monopolies.
All of that was the most important factor in this case, and he couldn’t risk jeopardizing it.
Then there was his own career.
He’d always been something of a rule bender, aggressive, out to get the perp at all costs.
That kind of attitude had earned him a broken kneecap and another federal agent a bullet in the arm.
It hadn’t seemed like a big deal at the time. He had stumbled across some money laundering during a prior investigation. It had seemed like such a small op, a car rental franchise, that he had thought he could handle an office raid with just Sam Barker with him.
He should have waited, he should have followed procedure. That little op was really a front for the mob, and before the day was done, he and Sam had both been injured and the middlemen running the op had fled.
A total disaster. A screw-up as big as the fucking Sears tower, Nordstrom had called it.
Sam had left the field temporarily, his arm too stiff to hold a gun steady. And Derek himself had an arthritic knee that he had lied to his boss about.
Just fine, he’d said. Good as new.
So Reese needed to be cut out. He had to protect this case and he had to protect her. Keep her far away from Chatterton.
An hour and a half later he had come to the conclusion that protecting Reese was going to be by far the most frustrating op he’d ever done. She was manipulating circles around him.
All with a smile on her face.
During the whole Maine lobster, asparagus, and squash dinner she had driven him nuts with her exploring fingers under the table. All while telling every single person they’d talked to a different story about who they were.
He couldn’t remember if he was supposed to be a prizewinning French scientist or a rancher from Texas named Ridge. Either way, she might well say he didn’t speak English either, since he couldn’t do accents for shit. His rancher had sounded like Elvis drunk.
Now he was standing in a corner watching her dance with Chatterton. Somehow her quick trip to the ladies’ room had resulted in her firmly hooked in Chatterton’s pervert paws, doing a bastardized version of the waltz.
As an FBI agent working a case, he didn’t like it.
As a man who was rapidly developing a thing for this woman, he hated it.
Reese danced by him, her light laughter making him wince, Chatterton’s hand so close to her ass that he swore out loud.
“You used to look at me like that.”
Derek glanced over, embarrassed that he’d spoken out loud. Dawn was watching Reese and Chatterton, Reese’s auburn hair swinging around as Chatterton spun her a little wildly.
Derek said ruefully, “What...in horror?”
Dawn cracked a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “No, I mean like you couldn’t get enough of me. That even when you were across the room from me, you had to be watching me.”
That wistful, regret-laden trace of something in her words made him uncomfortable. He couldn’t think of anything to say and so said nothing.
Nor did it seem like he could remember far back enough to a time when the sight of Dawn had filled him with passion and possessiveness. Too much time and divorce papers had made it impossible to stand in his old shoes.
“She’s gorgeous.” It wasn’t delivered as a compliment, but as a begrudging admission.
“Yes.” Just where in the hell was this conversation going?
“She’s got claws, too. That was a good one about my due date.”
Derek raised an eyebrow and she laughed.
“I guess I deserved it. I was being just a little bitchy.”
A little? “Why?”
Dawn shrugged, her dangling earrings shaking back and forth. “Like I said, I’ve never seen you look at a woman like that, except for me. A little reactive jealousy, I guess.”
“You left me, remember?” He spoke casually, not interested in an argument. Not caring anymore why Dawn had left him. He was done psychoanalyzing her, had done enough of that in their marriage to call himself Freud.
Now he was more concerned with wresting Reese from Chatterton, whose short hairy fingers had dropped another inch, coming perilously close to the curve of her ass. His ass. The ass that he wanted to be touching. Right now.
Tonight.
For hours.
“I know I left you.” Dawn clicked her tongue. “And I got everything I wanted, but that still doesn’t mean I want you falling in love and getting remarried.”
That pulled his attention off Reese’s satin covered backside to gape at Dawn. “Hold it. First of all, Reese was telling you the truth. It’s a casual relationship. Second, you can’t leave me, remarry and start a family, and then get pissed if I do the same thing. It doesn’t work like that.”
Her fingers went up to smooth her perfect salon-created hair. “I’m selfish, you know that. And part of me wishes I’d never left.”
With that little gem of a parting comment, she walked off, leaving him catching flies with his wide-open trap.
Christ. He really didn’t want his ex-wife expressing regrets for their divorce. Not when he didn’t have any at all.
Reese touched his arm, her breathing hard as she tucked her hair behind her ears. Her cheeks were two bright spots of color, and the strap on her dress had fallen over onto one shoulder.
“Well, that was a waste, not to mention disgusting. Chatterton didn’t want to talk about anything except having me spend the weekend out in the country with him.”
Fanning herself with her hand, she said, “Where’s the waiter? I need a drink.”
She turned towards him and frowned. “What’s the matter with you? You look stunned and horrified and while Chatterton is disgusting, I can handle myself.”
“My ex-wife just said she wished she hadn’t left me.”
Reese took it with great aplomb. “She wants you back? Why?”
No chance of his ego inflating around Reese. “You don’t need to act so damn surprised. Some women appreciate my many fine qualities.”
Not her, apparently. She shrugged, looking baffled. Then she fixed her dress strap and said, “Well, she can’t have you back until I’m done with you.”
“You make me sound like a vibrator.”
It wasn’t meant as a joke. He was feeling a little put out and sick of this whole day…year, whatever.
“Why would I borrow someone’s vibrator?”
“I just…” felt off. Reese was right—he was cranky.
But he suddenly felt a whole lot better when Reese moved closer to him. Her finger toyed with her bottom lip, before she nibbled on her fingernail.
The sight of her pink tongue, dampening her finger, perked him up.
“You’re way better than any vibrator. Much more…interactive.”
That really perked him up. “And I can go in the shower with you.”
“Oh, my vibrator can go in the shower.”
Now there was a visual. He gave a low moan.
“But you’re still way better,” she said, her gray-green eyes hooded. “You can talk dirty to me. Are you ready to go, then? I’m tired, and I want to just curl up on my bed and…listen to you.”
His hand spasmed, his heart raced like he was running up the side of a mountain, and his mouth dried up like a worm on the sidewalk in July.
“You do that, Beautiful. You just lie back on the bed and watch me getting you off. ”
A little “oh, yes,” slipped past her lips.
He took her elbow to guide her out of the crowded and stuffy room and to a cab before he dragged her into the coatroom and slid into her standing up.
She walked with confidence, with a seductive roll and sway of her hips, a toss of her hair. A shoulder was raised, and she glanced back at him over the creamy flesh, mouth open on a minxy smile.
“I told your ex-wife I’m in this relationship for the great sex. You’d better prove me right.”
Oh, he would. Or die trying.