Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
The idea of agent Falcon questioning Elek made my blood run cold. Of course she was right. But…
“I have immunity for all of that. Even if he gives them all the proof in the world of what I did when I was with him, the FBI can’t prosecute me for any of it. So why do I care?”
MJ sighed. “Now, we’re talking in circles. The reason you care is because Interpol can prosecute you, the French national police can prosecute you—hell, every European country has a law enforcement agency that would love to prosecute you. Yes, you have your little book of stolen artwork, but we don’t know for sure how well it will work as a bargaining chip. You cannot let that man get taken into custody.”
“Fuck.”
MJ chuckled softly. “Yes. Exactly. Plus, it’s unnecessary. That man is your past. The FBI agent may not be your future, King, but somebody is. And if you want a chance with future man, you have to let past man go.”
She didn’t know what she was talking about. But she was right about one thing. We were talking in circles. Nothing I could say would make her understand.
I ran fingers through my hair and walked around in circles. “I’m just so mixed up. We went to a party tonight, and Elek was there. I saw him across the room. And I… I…” I blew out a breath. “It just brought up so many old feelings for me.”
MJ’s voice was kind when she spoke. “I can tell. And I’m sorry. I’m not sure your special agent would be happy about it, but do you want me to come there? Do you need one of us to be there for you? You know any of us would drop anything and come be there in a heartbeat.”
Her generous offer made my eyes sting. I shook my head stupidly as if she could see me. “No. Thanks though. I’ll be okay. Just needed to get some things off my chest.”
After a few beats of silence, MJ’s voice came over the line again. “Tell me about your agent. Is he hot?”
I barked out a laugh. “So hot. Sooo hot. Like surface of the sun hot. And he’s… a good kisser. And… a good lots of other things.”
MJ chuckled. “TMI, little brother. I’m surprised to hear you’ve gotten that close to him. From what I could tell during the contract negotiations, the man is a bit of a stickler for the rules.”
I was grinning like a fool. “Oh he is. Believe me, he is. I think it’s killing him that he’s losing control over himself. Not that I mind—it’s kind of fun to watch.”
I thought of Falcon waiting for me in the kitchen with the rest of the team. “I’d better go. Listen, MJ, this really helped a lot. Thank you for being there. Always.”
“Always. I’m really glad you called. I love you. We all love you.”
I took my time returning to the house, but as soon as I was through the front door, the raised voices in the kitchen made me wish I’d hurried.
“What’s going on in here?” I asked, noticing Falcon had taken off that ridiculous wig, revealing his short military cut.
Falcon’s eyes stayed on his computer while his fingers flew over the keyboard. It was Ziv who looked up at me with an apologetic face. “We have a problem. Demitri Lazarus’s fingerprints are setting off all kinds of red flags.”
I tried to process what he was saying. “Why?”
Mouse’s forehead creased. “Don’t know yet. Could be he’s an intelligence asset, could be he has diplomatic immunity, or could be suspected of something.”
“How did we not already know this?” I asked.
Ziv’s tone was defensive. “This isn’t a sanctioned mission. Interpol doesn’t even know we’re here. How the hell would we know the identification or alias of a foreign national?”
I looked at the senior agent in the room. “Falcon?”
Without looking up he told me to take a seat and be quiet for a minute. I could tell he was stressed, and I knew better than to start asking a lot of questions if he was in the middle of something. I took a seat and looked over at Mouse. His expression was serious.
“What country? Greece?”
Mouse shook his head. Linney was the one who answered. “That’s what Falcon’s trying to find out. He’s messaging with his boss.”
Falcon’s tuxedo jacket was hanging on a hook by the front door, his tie was nowhere to be found, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up, revealing those muscular forearms that made my stomach clench with attraction. I tried not to look.
I cleared my throat and looked at Ziv. “What else? Do we have any intel on his father? Isn’t that why Falcon trusted him in the first place? He’s friends with the kid’s father. Right?”