Chapter 1: Under pressure
Jen
One year later
“That’s not fair, you know I like having dinner with you and Bennett.” I switch the phone to my other ear and press the button to call the elevator. While I wait, I check my watch and tap my foot impatiently. “Si, you know I love you, but you and Bennett are a little…too much.”
“No, we’re not.”
I sigh and press two fingers to my temples. “You are, and it’s okay. I’m really happy the two of you found each other, you know that.”
But it didn’t mean I wanted to see them fawning over each other all the time.
Simone had not only started over from scratch but found a man who was willing to go to the ends of the Earth for her. I just didn’t want to be reminded every minute of every day of how I only had an empty apartment to go back home to.
Being on the run hasn’t gotten any easier after two years.
And although having Simone and the Slades makes my life more bearable, while appreciated, it doesn’t changemyreality.
With a slight shake of my head, I step onto the elevator and wait for the doors to slide shut behind me. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the glass and grimaced. With my hair in a bun on top of my head and a wrinkled shirt, I look like I’ve rolled out of bed and into work.
You’re never going to get a date looking like that.
A short while later, when the doors ping open, and I spill out into the lobby, I breathe a sigh of relief. I’m looking forward to relaxing after a long day of correcting past Slade Outfitters financial statements. When Harper, Owens' former assistant and now wife, became the joint CFO, they had hired an external accountant who made, to state this politically correct, quite a mess. So, Owen had asked me to go fix it, all of it. I enjoy working with numbers, and even though I am clearly good in working my magic, I don’t always enjoy the monotony and repetitiveness of being an accountant.
“No, I don’t want you to set me up with someone else,” I say as I push through the rotating door. “Look, can we talk about this later? I’ve got to go.”
Simone mutters something underneath her breath before hanging up.
Once outside, I set off at a brusque pace, heels clicking steadily against the pavement. The late afternoon sun is high in the sky over the city of Los Angeles, and everyone around me walks quickly. A few blocks away from the Slade building, I see a tall figure in the glass of a shop, hoodie lifted up over his head and large sunglasses perched on his nose. He keeps stopping to look at his phone and shoots glances in my direction when he thinks I’m not looking.
My heart hammers against my chest as I quicken my pace.
Shit.
Have I gotten too comfortable?
Too used to life on the outside?
Is this the day they are finally going to catch up to me?
I weave in and out of the throngs of people and lower my head. Now and again, I stop and use the glass reflections of the shops around me to find him, still a few feet behind. Slowly, I take my phone out of my pocket and send Simone a quick message with my location.
When I round the corner, I duck into an alley and press myself against the wall. A tremor goes through me as I slip out of my heels, hold one up in my hand and wait. As soon as he darts past, my hand shoots out, and I grab him by the back of his neck. With a grunt, I throw him onto the floor and climb on top of him, pressing the sharp end of my heel to his neck.
His hoodie falls back, revealing a smooth, angular face and deep brown eyes. “I’m glad you haven’t gotten rusty.”
My stomach gives an odd little flutter when he smiles at me. “Agent McCray, what are you still doing here? I thought we’d been over this already.”
After we worked together on the mob case, I told myself I wasn’t going to see or work with him ever again. Rude, impatient and dangerous were just a few words I would use to describe him.
Or rather he makes me feel impatient.
And his looks…those are dangerous.
Agent McCray holds both hands up before kicking his legs out and knocking me back onto my ass. “And I told you that I don’t give up easily, Ms. Marshall.”
For a few seconds, I forget how to breathe when he looks at me.