Chapter 5 #3
“A definite challenge.” His gaze scorched her right before Gray turned away. “Get changed, Emerson. We’ve got profiles to work.” He started to pass by Rylan.
“Hey, how about a quick sparring session, Agent Stone?” Rylan wanted to know. “Let’s see if you live up to the hype.” He reached for Gray’s arm.
Two seconds later, Rylan hit the mat with a hard groan.
Gray stared down at him.
Emerson knew her gaze had to be huge. Gray had taken Rylan down with brutal efficiency and with a heck of a lot more force than he’d used with her.
Rylan gasped, “Definitely living up to the hype.”
Gray stalked for the exit. Emerson scrambled to catch him. She grabbed his arm. He spun toward her, and she half expected to find herself hurtling through the air the way Rylan had just done.
Only that didn’t happen. Gray just stared at her. “Something you need, Dr. Marlowe?”
When in the world had she become Dr. Marlowe again? He’d just said he wanted to fuck her on the mat, and now he was pulling this Dr. Marlowe bull on her? “Someone is running hot and cold.”
His eyes blazed. “Just hot. So watch yourself.”
No, she was done with that. “You went easy on me.”
He didn’t blink.
“On the mat,” Emerson clarified. “You weren’t using your full skill set or strength against me. You were holding back.” Angry, she shook her head. “Don’t ever do that again.”
“Fuck that. I’ll always hold back my strength with you. You don’t hurt delicate things in my world.”
“I’m not delicate. Don’t hold back with me. I can handle anything that you throw my way.”
His lips began to curl. His eyes to gleam.
Rylan groaned again. “Hey, Emerson, help a guy up, would you?”
“Help your own self up,” Gray snapped at him. He leaned toward her. “You sure about that? You really think you can take all of me?”
“Try me and find out.” Wait, did that sound sexual? Maybe. Definitely. Whatever. His words had seemed sexual, too. “Don’t hold back with me. I can handle you.”
“We’ll just see about that.”
Then he walked away. And her heart kept racing.
One week and four days since Briar…
“What’s it like working up close and personal with the Man of Stone?” FBI Agent Agnes Quinn asked the question as she raised a chilled beer bottle to her mouth. Her dark red hair had been twisted into a braid that trailed over her right shoulder. Soft tendrils escaped to frame her oval face.
Man of Stone. Right. Emerson had learned that was the secret nickname for Gray shortly after she’d started working as a consultant at the FBI.
A play on his last name, of course, but also on the fact that the other agents thought nothing ever touched him.
That he could see the most chilling cases and remain totally unmoved.
But after watching him with Misty and Timothy at that rundown motel, after hearing about his past…
The nickname is a lie. Emerson didn’t touch the beer bottle that had been placed in front of her. “I’m learning a great deal from him.” That seemed like a diplomatic response. Also one that was true.
“He sparred her,” Rylan announced to their group. He wiggled his dark brows dramatically.
There were stunned gasps from the agents at the table.
They’d gathered at the bar—apparently, meeting at O’Sullivan’s was a weekly tradition when the group was in town—and when they’d extended an invitation to Emerson to join, she’d agreed.
Why not? Not like she had anything else happening on a Friday night.
Her social life was non-existent. Hard to have a social life —or a dating life—when her thoughts were consumed by one man.
The Man of Stone.
“He sparred me, too,” Rylan admitted as he took a long pull on the beer. Rylan cleared his throat and confessed, “Man had my ass down on the mat before I could blink.”
More laughter. Some clinking of beer bottles.
Covertly, Emerson studied the group. All FBI Agents. Rylan Tate. Agnes Quinn. Malik Jones. Trinity Coleman.
Trinity didn’t drink her beer, either, just ran nervous fingers around the mouth of the bottle.
“Is it weird that he scares me?” The faintest hint of a Texas accent came and went in her voice.
“Because he does. I mean, don’t get me wrong.
I want to know about killers, too. But—there’s knowing and then knowing, get me?
Like, if you’re in their heads that deeply, maybe something is off about you.
” Then, seeming to realize what she’d just said, her dark eyes widened.
She yanked the beer toward her lips and took a couple of quick swallows.
“Forget I said that,” she burst out as she clinked the bottle back down on the table.
“Forget it. And if anyone dares to pass that along to Agent Stone, I will bury you.”
“No worries,” Rylan assured her as he sprawled in the booth. His arm brushed against Emerson’s. “If you’re not scared of Stone, then something is probably off with you.” An incline of his head toward Trinity. “I mean, did you hear about the time he was taken prisoner? Tortured for days?”
Beneath the table, Emerson’s fingers pressed to the tops of her thighs. “What?”
“Oh, yeah.” Rylan glanced around the busy bar.
They’d picked a spot in the back, away from the small band that played on the stage.
The lighting was dim. The music slow. His gaze darted back to the group.
“I’d just started working with his team at the time.
Get this. One minute, he’d been all secretive and shit with some joint-task-force case. Him and his military buddies.”
“Marines.” This came from Malik. Agent Malik Jones was definitely the quiet type. Quiet. Still. Watchful. No accent in his voice.
“Right. Right. His Marine buddies. One minute, Stone is dealing with them, and the next, the guy just goes totally dark. I have no idea what’s happening. Supervisors won’t tell the team shit.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t be telling us this,” Trinity murmured, biting her lower lip.
But Rylan waved that away. “Not like it’s classified.
I mean, the man vanished for days. Then had to stay in the hospital because he was beaten to hell and back.
” A low whistle. “When he finally arrived in the office again, Stone looked like the walking dead. Can you imagine how much pain it would take to put him down?”
Emerson’s hands curled into fists. Her nails bit into her palms.
“And about that case he was working…the task force case…the one that got him snatched and tortured…” Rylan hunched forward.
Everyone at the little table leaned inward, too.
“It was all about some seriously high-profile witness.” His voice was low. Barely above a whisper.
Everyone leaned a bit closer.
“He made the witness disappear. Poof. As in, gone from the face of the planet. He does that stuff. Works task force stuff with that US Marshal buddy of his, Tyler Barrett.”
She’d met Tyler before.
“Agent Stone made the witness vanish while he was running some covert investigation. Only he knew where the person had gone—because his Marshal buddy had gone dark with the witness. The investigation apparently turned into a major clusterfuck, with even some powerful folks at the Bureau getting involved. Some of those individuals were reportedly dirty as hell.” He swallowed.
“The bad guys needed the witness eliminated. So, Agent Stone was taken. Gone.” He snapped his fingers. “Like that.”
“Bet he fought like hell.” From Malik. His intense stare didn’t waver as he studied Rylan.
“You know it.” Agnes saluted Malik with her beer bottle.
“And I bet he didn’t spill a single secret.” Malik nodded. “He’s one of those types that would die first before giving up an innocent.” Admiration filled his tone.
“He almost did die,” Rylan informed him. “The dude was seriously the walking dead, had to be carried out when he?—”
“If you’re going to tell my story, get the details straight.”
Holy hell. Emerson jumped. So did everyone else at the table. They’d been positioned close to the back of O’Sullivan’s. They should have seen anyone approaching, but Gray had just snuck up on them all.
“Dammit!” Beer dripped down Rylan’s shirtfront as he leapt to his feet and grabbed napkins to mop up the liquid. “How did you sneak up on us?”
“How, indeed.” Gray stood behind Rylan. “There’s a back door, genius.
And you always come to this bar on Friday nights when you’re in town.
The group’s behavior is very predictable.
” His gaze swept the group. Lingered on Emerson.
“Most of the group. Someone is a new member.” He did not look away from her.
“Collecting more data for your profile on me?”
“I’m just having a drink.” She motioned to the beer bottle.
“You don’t drink, Dr. Marlowe.”
“Emerson,” she whispered.
Their gazes held.
Now I’m the one asking him to call me by— Wait. “How do you know that I don’t drink?”
His lips curled into a half-smile. “Because I have a thorough profile on you.” His gaze left her. Took in every person at the table once more. Finally landed on Rylan. “I have a profile on every single one of you. I know your strengths and your weaknesses.”
The group had gone dead silent.
After a moment, Rylan cleared his throat. He stepped to the side and motioned toward the round table. “Would you, uh, like to join us?”
“No.”
Her brows shot up. Way to be rude, Gray.
“Gossiping about an FBI superior, huh, Rylan?” A nod from Gray. “Expected.”
“Ouch,” Agnes murmured.
“That wasn’t the first time I’ve been tortured by someone who wanted me to give up a witness.” Gray’s voice was so mild he could have been talking about the weather forecast, and not a torture session. “I’ve learned to deal with pain. Guess that’s necessary for the Man of Stone.”
“Oh, shit.” Agnes slumped in her seat. “He knows the nickname. We’re all in serious trouble, aren’t we?” Her fingers fiddled with the end of her braid.
“For telling stories? Nah.” A shrug of one shoulder. Gray seemed so utterly unconcerned. “But try and get the details correct, would you?”
Rylan coughed. “What, um, what did I get wrong?”
“I didn’t nearly die. Big detail that was incorrect. Total hyperbole. I still had plenty of fight left in me.”
Trinity wet her lips. “But you were taken prisoner? Tortured? And someone in the FBI was involved?”
“I was taken prisoner.” A nod. “And, yes, actually, I was betrayed by someone who should have been working to protect us all.”
Jaws dropped.
“What?” Malik exclaimed.
“My torturer enjoyed using a knife. Some of the cuts were a bit too deep. I bled out more than I should.” Spoken casually. “So all the blood loss made it look like a bigger deal than it was.” Another shrug. “No worries. I lived to fight another day.”
Everyone stared at him. Just stared.
Finally, Malik asked, “What happened to the people who took you?”
Gray’s smile was brutal. “What do you think happened?”
A shiver slid over Emerson.
Gray shrugged out of his suit coat and passed it toward her. “Should have worn a dress with sleeves, Dr. Marlowe. The temperature is supposed to drop tonight.”
She reached for the coat. Their fingers brushed. Heat singed her. “I-I don’t need?—”
“Take it.” Flat. Then he stepped back. Nodded curtly. “Enjoy the night, everyone.” He turned and strode away.
She had his coat in her hand. It was warm from his body. It carried his crisp scent. And he was walking away from her without a backward glance.
“Tell me that was weird,” Rylan mumbled. “Come on, I’m not the only one who feels like he was stalking us, right? I’m not the only one who thinks something is seriously up.”
“Good night.” Emerson was already on her feet. “I can’t take his coat. Got to give it back.” She grabbed her purse. Dipped her head toward everyone. “See you all soon.”
Then she was bobbing and ducking through the crowd. “Gray!” Emerson called out his name and she was?—
Running straight into Gray. Because he’d stopped in the middle of the bar. Turned back toward her. His hands flew out and clamped around her shoulders. “Did I forget something?”
“Yes,” she said, very definitely. “Me.” Then she stood on her tiptoes, yanked him toward her, and kissed him.