Chapter 2
Intruder
This son of a—
Indignation buzzes through my veins, my bones nearly rattling as I shoot freshly sharpened daggers at Agent Kane.
He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t seem to notice my anger.
Or he doesn’t care. That’s more likely. The Bureau is full of these people.
They take, and they take, and they never listen.
Not to reason. Not to logic. Not to the word no.
Agent Kane cocks his head, perking up a groomed brow. “Is there a problem, Dr. Hadid? You appear to be…” The tiniest tip of his tongue flicks out as he subtly licks his lips, his antagonistic gaze flitting across my face. “Stunned by my presence.”
I ball my hands into fists, seething as I grunt, “Where. Are. My. Students?”
He grins. “On break.”
“On break?!” I release an incredulous breath, slapping my palm against my hip. He smirks, amused. “You have no right to send my students on a break. This is absurd. You need to leave. Now.”
Agent Kane purses his lips in feigned contemplation. “No. I think I’ll stay.”
My expression hardens. “If you don’t leave my classroom in the next thirty seconds, I will call campus security.”
Agent Kane snorts, circling me like a vulture.
He starts toward my desk, his fingers trailing over the stack of case files I borrowed from various law enforcement agencies.
There are approximately twenty-five to fifty active serial killers in the US at any given time.
I personally enjoy reviewing cold cases. Maybe one day, I’ll help solve one.
“I am a federal agent, Dr. Hadid. I believe my badge outweighs that of a university officer.” He snaps his gaze upward, grinning. “But go ahead if you insist.” He perches on the edge of my desk and nods to the intercampus landline. “Well? What’re you waiting for? Call me in, doc.”
“You have no jurisdiction here.” I cross my arms. Pompous. Cocky. Arrogant. He’s an only child, no doubt. “And I have no interest in aiding your efforts. I’ve made my position clear. Leave.”
He gives me a curious smile. “I was told you’d be difficult, but I enjoy a challenge now and again.”
I scoff. “If you were an intelligent man, and you’re quickly convincing me that your IQ resembles that of a lawn mower, you’d heed the warning of your associates and fuck off.”
He dramatically covers his mouth, gasping. “Why, Dr. Hadid, what filthy language for a tenured professor. And in a classroom nonetheless. I should report you.” He pauses when I scowl. “You’ve never been in trouble, have you?” I stiffen, and he laughs. “No… No, you haven’t. Not even detention?”
I look away.
He laughs again. “Of course not. You were an ideal student, weren’t you? A good girl, huh?” He clicks his tongue. “Perhaps it would’ve been beneficial for your personal growth if you got punished every so often. Children who don’t experience the hand of authority seldom turn out normal.”
I clench my teeth together. “Whatever game you’re trying to play with me, Agent, it won’t work. I am not easily swayed, and I’ve made up my mind.”
He sighs as he pushes himself off the desk and strides toward me. “See, that’s where I think you’re wrong. Humans are fickle creatures, Dr. Hadid. You should know this. It’s your area of expertise, is it not?”
I shift uncomfortably as he stops a foot away, his cologne permeating the small space between our bodies.
Sweat and sandalwood. A typical combination for a jackass.
He smells like a department store catering to former jocks and prom kings.
Given the enormity of his ego and his lack of self-awareness, I’d wager he was popular in school.
“No is a full sentence, Agent,” I say, attempting to rip myself away from his gravitational pull, but it proves to be a challenge. “I can recommend several colleagues if you’d like, but again, I am not interested.”
“But I don’t want them,” he rasps, his eyes chock-full of resolution. “I want you, Safia. Only you.”
I swallow. “It’s Dr. Hadid.”
He smirks. “We’re not professionally involved yet, are we? Technically, you’re just a stranger to me. I like to reserve honorifics for those who earn the titles. Given your refusal to cooperate with the United States government, you’re simply a civilian. I can call you whatever I want.”
My fingertips tingle at his uncouth nature. “Show me your badge.”
He frowns, taken aback. “Why?”
“Because,” I glower at him, “I have a hard time believing that a man such as yourself would ever be granted power to lead an investigation.”
He chuckles. “And I have a hard time believing a woman such as yourself holds a doctorate in criminal psychology. You’d think those who studied murderers would be keen on stopping them.”
“Behavioral psychology,” I correct him, glaring. “It’s important to do your research, Theodore. I’ve always loathed those who come to class unprepared.”
“Loathed? That seems excessive.” He grins.
“And I have done my research.” He straightens his shoulders, his leather jacket slightly squeaking as he stretches, no doubt readying himself to recite an overview of my curriculum vitae.
“Safia Hadid, born in Russia, studied in Sweden and England, before immigrating to the States. Three undergraduate degrees: psychology, business, general arts.” He blinks.
“Couldn’t decide? Or simply a glutton for information?
” He doesn’t give me a chance to respond.
“A master’s degree in criminology from the US, and then a doctorate in… ” He grins. “Behavioral psychology.”
I sigh. “Congratulations, you’ve read my bio on the university’s website. Amazing. Truly phenomenal detective skills. I am so very impressed.”
He rubs his hands together, and my spine straightens as he paces around me, conjuring a tornado of unease.
“Your mother is Ekaterina Andreeva, and your father, well, your father is Sami Hadid, the real estate mogul.” He snaps his head at me.
“Though you have no relationship. Why? Because you’re an illegitimate child?
Any contact with your siblings? Other than Amir, of course.
I know you have a weekly dinner date.” He taps his lips.
“At Jacques usually, I believe.” He hitches a shoulder as he continues to stalk around me.
“I would’ve figured Amir Hadid preferred a more…
sophisticated establishment to dine with his sister.
Was Jacques your decision? Something low-key?
” He cocks his head. “Not a fan of attention? Or prying eyes?”
I blanche.
He forges on, “You opened a private practice a couple of years back. Closed it a year later. I assume you discovered you aren’t great with…people. Unfortunate for a psychologist.”
“Stop.”
“You’re closed off, demanding, a perfectionist—”
“Stop.”
“You don’t have many hobbies, you have a cat, your social circle is your colleagues; however, you don’t consider them your friends—”
“I said stop!”
He halts in front of me, gaze stern and cold.
“I am not Agent Reese. I do not make mistakes. I do not ignore advice and choose arrests over accuracy. I do not condone his actions. I do, however, wish to see criminals brought to justice. And I will do everything in my power to ensure that the streets of New York City are not littered with murderers.”
He takes a stabilizing breath as I study his flushed features. He’s angry. Almost explosive. But the fury fades in a matter of seconds. His control is admirable.
He continues, “You and I are not so different. We both want the same thing.” His tone turns genuine, almost docile, as he says, “But I need your help.”
I narrow my eyes on him. What a frustratingly confusing man. I’m usually quite adept at reading intentions, analyzing wants and needs, but Agent Theodore Kane has me stumped. Neurons fire in my brain at the thought, and I know I’ve solved it. I always solve it.
“You’re stuck, aren’t you?” I muse. “That’s why you’re so desperate. You’ve reached a dead end.”
His jaw ticks. “The team has reached a dead end. Deputy Director Bhatia transferred me from DC a month ago. I was given specific instructions to recruit you. I do not fail when assigned a task, Dr. Hadid. Other than finding the unsub, you’re my top priority.”
I lift a brow. “Oh, it’s Doctor again?”
His expression darkens. “That depends. Are you willing to forgive the transgressions of my predecessor in favor of the higher good? If so, I’ll call you whatever you want.”
I swallow. He didn’t lie. He did his research. While the majority of his findings could be accomplished by a simple Google search, his assumptions regarding my personality leave me unsettled. Did he interview my colleagues? My neighbors? Did he speak to Amir?
Or… Or is that obvious? Is one conversation enough for him to deduce all my flaws? All my shortcomings? Am I that easy to read? To dissect? I’ve always wanted to have layers. Armor that protects me. That fends off attacks. Attacks on the body. Attacks on the mind.
I don’t like this man. He doesn’t know me.
Not all of me. Not the parts that matter.
Not the parts that hide from attention. From affection.
I don’t need to be liked. I don’t need anyone to understand me.
I know myself. And I know that Agent Kane is trouble.
He has a talent. I can see it clearly. He’s an expert in carving keys.
He can enter into the most impenetrable vaults.
He wants to break in. But I won’t let him. Not today. Not ever.
Students begin to filter back into the classroom, dozens of inquisitive eyes darting to Agent Kane and me. I keep my features neutral, unwilling to crumble under his observations or his tactless attempt to win me over.
But he’s right. Humans are fickle. And his desperation does something traitorous to my tongue.
“Do you have the case files?” I ask, immediately regretting the question.
His lips slowly stretch into a victorious smile.
He thinks he won. How foolish.
“They’re on your desk.”
“I’ll review the files and send you my notes.”
His smile vanishes. “No.”
“No?” I scoff. “Isn’t this what you wanted? My help?”
“You’re either in or you’re out. There’s no in between.”
“Then I’m out.”
He shakes his head. “Not an option.”
I blink. “You cannot force me to join your task force, Agent Kane. If you recall, I’m a civilian. I believe I have rights.”
He smirks. “I’ll give you one day.” He gestures to the files. “If I’m right about you, then you’ll be calling me first thing in the morning, begging to join us.”
“I don’t beg, Agent Kane,” I say, holding my head up high. “I’ve never begged.”
He licks his lips. “I can tell. But trust me,” he takes three purposeful strides toward me, whispering in my ear, “you’ll be begging come morning. You might even…” I swallow, the heat of his breath fanning against my skin. “You might even say please.”
Instinctively, I step away from him, gathering my wit. “I don’t have time for this. I have a class to teach.” I motion to the door. “Time’s up, Agent. You’ve failed.”
Agent Kane chuckles under his breath as he struts to the front row of the lecture hall. My mouth gapes open as he takes a seat between two students and resets his body in the exact position I found him.
I approach him, forcing a smile as I say in a harsh tone, “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Learning,” he says casually, glancing at one of my students. “Isn’t that why we’re here?”
I arch over, whispering, “If you insist on staying, then I suggest you keep your mouth closed and make yourself invisible. If you interrupt me and cost these students even an iota more of their allotted lecturing hours, then I will personally drag you out of my classroom.”
As I pull away, I catch the corner of his mouth quirking up. “I’d like to see you try.”
It’s my turn to smirk. “You were wrong about one thing, Agent. I have many hobbies. You shouldn’t underestimate someone you don’t know.”
He grins. “Color me intrigued.”
I roll my eyes before I turn on my heel and situate myself in front of the class. “I hope you all enjoyed your break. It won’t happen again. Now…” I find Mr. Brown in the front row. “Please define and give me an example of a modus operandi.”
Teaching a class with an unwelcome visitor proves to be difficult.
I can feel him staring at me. His unyielding gaze burns a damn hole in my skin as I attempt to bestow knowledge upon my students.
But he doesn’t talk. He doesn’t open his mouth.
He doesn’t squirm or shift. He remains static, stoic, and surprisingly invisible.
But he’s not invisible. Not to me. His presence suffocates the whole room, and by the time the class nears its end, he’s the only one I see.
He blinds me, and I hate it.
As students trickle out of the room with fifty pages of required reading, Agent Kane walks past me, tipping his head, a gleam of something devilish in his irises.
“I’ll be expecting your call.”
And then he vanishes into the crowd like an airborne toxin, but I can’t help but breathe in the deadly scent of sweat and sandalwood.