“Tell me everything.” My fists clench at my side while the disgraced agent opens cabinets until she locates a wine glass.
“So, you two tied the knot, huh?” Not waiting for an answer, she empties the bubbly, sits on the bar stool, and hitches up her short dress, showing a lot more thigh than necessary.
The bare skin would’ve caused me to sweat a few years ago. Now, I feel nothing but the urge to brush my teeth and fumigate the house.
“Brittany, talk or walk.” I open the door, half-praying she has nothing of value to add to my investigation.
She shrugs and glares at my wife. “I can’t say anything becauseshe’sin the room. Security clearance and all that.”
Gwen scowls at me, then at her. “I’m not going anywhere,honey.”
Keeping my face neutral, I smile at my babe’s feistiness. The witch has no idea my kitty has sharp claws, three doctorates, and enough clearance to get her into the Oval Office with one phone call.
“Suit yourself.” Britt sips her drink, crosses her legs, and dangles one of her open-toed red stilettos. “Ledbetter is here in Rehoboth. I’m doing you a favor by letting you know.”
My spidey senses tingle. Why the hell would an international arms dealer be in this small beach community?
“Who do you work for?” I reach for my sidearm, and she laughs.
“Chill. I haven’t gone over to the dark side. After the FBI and I parted ways, Interpol hired me. Want to see my ID?” Eyes wide, she lifts her purse and as she unzips it, I click my pistol’s safety.
“Move slowly.” I lean closer to better view her bag, which contains a Ruger LCP Max.
She undoubtedly has a second weapon strapped to her thigh. While I aim mine, she smirks and pulls out a flat wallet. After extracting her badge, she hands it to me.
Although it appears valid, any card can be faked. Until I have time to investigate, I won’t make assumptions that could get me fired or killed. “Don’t make me ask again, Brittany. Why skip protocol?”
My former bed partner shrugs. “Perhaps I want you to get the credit for putting one of the FBI’s most wanted behind bars. Or, I tried going through proper channels, and your boss, Kaplan, hung up on me.”
The latter sounds more than likely. “Finally, the truth.”
As I lower my weapon, the player steps closer and grabs my crotch. “Do you want Ledbetter or not, baby?”
I slap her hand away. “Jesus, Britt, drop the theatrics.”
The blond pats my chest, laughs, and turns to my red-faced wife. “He used to be a lot more fun.”
“If you have a lead, spit it out.” My gaze shifts to my tightly coiled spouse, about to practice her martial arts skills on my ex.
To avoid a physical altercation, I step between the two. Noticing my protective move, the woman who interrupted my orgasm pouts.
“Fine. I have a liaison, Evan Danbury, who wants to meet you.”
“Interpol is not a hands-on agency.” Gwen weaponizes the bottle of Dom Perignon by grabbing it by the neck and holding it high.
“Everyone’s job has a little gray area, honey. And, FYI, before your husband got me canned, I had this liaison tucked into my back pocket. We’ve kept in touch.”
God, I can’t believe she is still rewriting our history.“I didn’t get you fired, you quit.”
She juts out her chin. “I only left because the Deputy Director caught onto our relationship.”
“I told you, it was over. You didn’t have to leave the Bureau.” My jaw drops. She was the one who insisted on meaningless sex.
“Oh no, no, no. You said you were breaking up with me so neither of us would get fired.”
I rub my hand over my rough stubble, recall the conversation, and soften my tone. “I was trying to be kind.”
“No, we were in love.” She turns to face my wife. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. He still loves me. You’re the rebound.”
