Chapter 2 #2
Only, he didn’t insult her. Gray stopped right in front of her.
One big hand reached out, he caught her chin, bent toward her, and as he angled her chin up even more with a touch that was oddly gentle and incredibly careful, he growled, “Bastard. Why the hell didn’t you let me put a bullet in his brain?
” His fingers brushed lightly over the mark.
Not a scratch really. The screwdriver hadn’t broken the skin. A purplish bruise.
She’d always bruised easily.
His careful touch was doing strange things to her. But, full disclosure, she tended to have that reaction whenever they touched. Her heart raced. Her breath came faster. Tension pooled within her and…
I get turned on.
Definitely not the reaction she was supposed to have to her growly partner.
She hurriedly stepped back.
His hand lingered in the air for a moment before falling. Fisting at his side.
“We don’t put bullets in the brains of our suspects.” She thought her voice sounded suitably crisp. Points for her.
“Jake Waller killed three women that we know about, Emerson. You and I both suspected there were more. Based on all those trophies, we were right. Hopefully, we’ll get him to reveal more about his vics.
You saw the trophy case—uh, trophy toolbox.
There was a whole lot of jewelry in that case.
Lots of carefully preserved hair locks. More than would belong to just three vics. ”
Yes, he was right on that score. But she was also right. “You’re not the bad guy. You don’t get to pull the trigger unless it’s necessary.”
His brows rose. “Sounds to me like you’re the one giving orders.” A negative shake of his head. “That’s not how our relationship works.”
So, they had a relationship now, did they? Interesting. Maybe it was time to cut through the BS and get to the heart of the matter. “What is your problem with me?”
“Excuse me?”
Oh, she thought he’d heard her just fine.
But she’d be clearer. Louder. “You’ve given me grief since the moment we met.
” He had. They’d met in person for the first time in a Mississippi jail.
He’d been less than impressed with her then.
And, apparently, he still was. “I’m good at profiling.
I know killers. I found Waller’s trophy box in about five seconds.
You should be thanking me.” She nodded. Her careful control might have started to crack.
The tiniest bit. Her hands flew to her hips.
“Instead, you’re here, doing your big, bad wolf impression. ”
His dark brows flew up. “Say that again?”
“You’re huffing and puffing and threatening to dissolve our partnership.”
“You were supposed to stay in the car.” His eyes glittered at her.
“You are not an FBI agent. You’re a freelancer who should not be in the field.
When I give an order, it’s not for shits and giggles.
The orders are to keep you safe. To keep you alive.
But if I can’t count on you to follow even the simplest of directives, how am I supposed to trust you? ”
She didn’t need him to hold her hand every second of the day. Or to encase her in bubble wrap. She understood the risks of the job. “I’ve had self-defense classes.”
His teeth snapped together.
“I know how to fire a gun. Though you haven’t given me one to use in the course of our investigations yet.”
“Because you are not an FBI agent,” he repeated. “You got the gig because your senator mom pulled strings and shoved you down my throat. It was either accept you and start babysitting duty or get my ass demoted.”
Now she blinked. She could feel heat stinging her cheeks.
She hadn’t known her mother had used her influence that intensely.
She had not realized that Gray had been told if he didn’t accept her as his temporary partner, he’d lose his job .
“I’m sorry.” Brittle. She whirled away. Hurried for her bag.
Grabbed her phone. “I’ll get this sorted out immediately.
” She dialed her mother. Pressed the phone to her ear and heard the rings.
One. Two. Three. “You should never have been faced with the possibility of losing your job— wait!”
He’d just plucked the phone from her. Ended the call. Now he frowned at her. A faint line cut between his brows. “You didn’t know about the demotion bit, huh? That was news to you?”
Miserable, embarrassed, she shook her head. The burn in her cheeks was even stronger. Not only did my mother twist arms at the Bureau in order to get me the position, she literally threatened Gray. “No wonder you hate me.”
“I don’t hate you. Things would probably be one hell of a lot easier if I did. But then again, I’ve never been one for easy. Easy is boring.”
The phone rang in his grip.
“That’s my mother,” she said, recognizing the ringtone.
“Figured as much.”
“I’m going to tell her to reach out to her contact at the Bureau. To cancel any pressure she may have applied. Your job will be safe.” An exhale. “And I will find someone else to work with at the FBI.”
The phone kept ringing.
Gray’s head angled to the right as he studied her and ignored the ringing phone. “You’re not giving up this freelance gig, are you?”
No, she wasn’t. Emerson shook her head. She wouldn’t give up the gig, but she would give up the dream of working with him. The man can never know I was a super fan. That I studied his case files long before we ever met.
“Stubborn,” he muttered, and then Gray answered her phone. “Hello, Senator Marlowe.” His voice was curt. Annoyed. “Your daughter is busy right now. Can’t chat.”
Her eyes widened. No, he had not answered her phone at…her gaze darted toward the bedside clock. 12:43 a.m.
“Who am I?” Gray laughed. A rough, oddly seductive sound. “I’m the man in her motel room, of course. Look, you get what you pay for. You wanted me to be with Emerson twenty-four seven, and I take that kind of work seriously.”
No, no, no, no. She frantically waved at him. Tried to lunge for the phone.
He winked at her and effortlessly dodged her lunge.
Winked. The man did not know what he was doing.
“Oh, yes, this is Gray Stone. At your service, or Emerson’s service, I should say. I’m here in her motel room?—”
“What is wrong with you?” Emerson gasped. She snatched the phone from him on her second, desperate attempt and put it to her ear. “Mother, I want you to contact the FBI. I can’t believe that you threatened to demote Grayson if he didn’t?—”
“Gray,” he cut in to say.
“—if he didn’t work with me.”
There was silence on the line. Emerson’s heartbeat raced in her chest.
“Hello, Emerson,” her mother finally said in her perfect, polished tone.
A tone that no longer held any hint of her Maine accent.
She’d lost all traces of an accent years ago.
Though, on the campaign trail, she would deliberately slip back to her roots, like dropping her “r” at the end of words.
“I do believe I recently missed your call.” A brief pause.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of this late-night chat?”
Emerson held Gray’s stare. She swallowed the lump in her throat and, even though she knew the answer, she asked, “Did you threaten to have Agent Stone demoted if he didn’t agree to work with me?”
Another beat of silence. Then, “You wanted to work with Gray Stone very badly,” her mother replied.
One of Gray’s brows quirked up. Of course, he would have heard that line. He still does not know I am a super fan.
“I was simply trying to help you,” her mother continued. “After some discussion, Agent Stone agreed to take you on in a mentoring capacity, so, really, there were no…threats. Let’s not use that word, shall we? Let’s not say?—”
“You threatened him,” Emerson cut in. “I didn’t want you involved in this at all.
” She had never intended for her mother to use her political influence to get Emerson the job.
She’d wanted to pave her own path. “I am telling you now—back off. Leave Agent Stone alone. Leave my work at the Bureau alone. I can handle myself.” There. Done. “Good night, Mother.”
Her mother hummed. “Sorry it was a failed experiment. I did tell you, though, numerous times, that the Bureau would never be the place for you. Far too rough and dangerous. You wouldn’t be able to handle the pressure, isn’t that what I warned you?”
Yes, over and over again, her mother had said Emerson couldn’t handle the work. You were wrong, Mother. You still are.
“Good night, darling.” Her mother seemed pleased. Click.
A failed experiment. Emerson made certain she didn’t crush the phone in her too-tight grip. “There.” She pasted a false smile on her face. “Situation handled. If I am really such a terrible inconvenience to you…” A pain in your ass. “Then consider the inconvenience over.”
He studied her with zero expression on his face. Just standing there. All muscled and intense, and, damn him, sexy as he took her in. Assessed her. Judged her.
Then, slowly, he nodded. “If we weren’t partners any longer, then I could do what I really wanted to do…”
What was he talking about? She tossed the phone toward the bed with a weary sigh.
It had honestly been a soul-exhausting day.
“What’s that? Yell at me? Tell me how I’m the bane of your existence?
Oh, wait, been there, done that. Super fun, just so you know.
But, I can assure you, no need for a repeat performance. ”
He stepped toward her. His hand reached out. Curled beneath her chin. As before, his touch was incredibly careful.
And…sexual. This time, there was definitely a fierce, charged heat in his touch. And in his eyes. In fact, Gray stared at her as if he could—quite possibly—eat her alive.
There was no control in his stare. No anger. Just bright, burning lust.
“What is happening right now?” Emerson whispered.
“If we weren’t partners and if you just said… yes… ”
Her lips parted.
“I’d fuck you until you screamed with pleasure.”
No, he had not just said that. Had he?