Yes. “I hate when you profile me.”
“I hate when you make profiling you so easy.” An immediate return. “You’ve lived and breathed for revenge—you’ve done that for years, but, Agent Quinn, you just stepped straight into the fire. Where you are going…” A shake of his head. “I can’t be your backup. Malik won’t be your backup. It will be you and Cass against the world, and you are going to learn fast that he plays dirty and hard.”
Yes, she was getting that impression. “I can play that way, too.”
“Tell him about your past.”
She had already told Cass some about her past. Filling him in fully on all the dark and twisted details was on the agenda. She just wasn’t completely sure how he would react to everything.
Slowly, she rose to her feet. “Guess I have to get busy. Dramatic scenes to enact. New allegiances to swear. Busy, busy, busy.” She turned for the door. Agnes exhaled slowly. Her words were flippant, but when she reached out to touch the doorknob, her fingers trembled.
Don’t show fear. Do not hesitate. You are going to get what you want. Finally.
“If you go off the rails, if you cross the line while you are out there, you won’t be able to come back to the FBI. You understand that, don’t you?”
She stiffened.
“There are things that you cannot do. And one of those things? It’s commit premeditated murder.”
Gray…always profiling. And always…right.
Agnes glanced back at him. She used her bright and sunny smile on him. Most people never looked past that particular smile. Gray wasn’t most people. “I have no intention of committing premeditated murder.”
No, she’d make sure it never, ever looked that way…
“Agnes.”
“I learned a great deal working with you, Agent Stone.” True story. She had. “Thank you for the opportunity.” But it was time for her to take the next step.
And the next step?
That was to sever all ties with the FBI. Because she had to choose…
And the world would believe she was choosing Cass.
Time to burn bridges. The fire would need to be very, very bright. Good thing she had a pocketful of matches.
Chapter Nine
“Is it true that hot redhead is a Fed?”
Cass sat at the bar, his booted feet on the floor, his ass on the old stool, and a cold beer bottle gripped in his hand. At the low question, his head turned to the right.
A biker was beside him. Not MC affiliated. At least, not wearing any obvious signs or sporting obvious tats. Cass didn’t know the prick. Youngish, maybe early twenties, shaved hair on the right side. Dark hair. A patchy beard covering his jaw.
“Do I know you?” Cass asked bluntly.
The guy’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Name’s River. I, um, was here at The Bottomless Pit the other night. Saw you take out that SOB with the knife.” A low whistle. “You’re one hell of a fighter.”
Cass grunted. “Had to be. Either I kicked the shit out of my enemies when I was a kid, or I would have been in the ground.” Enough chit-chat. This River guy was a hanger-on. There for the fury. The second-hand adrenaline.
Hell, maybe River had picked up on the whispers. He’d heard that others were pissed at Cass because he’d screwed a Fed. Maybe River thought he was about to see a serious battle go down.
“Is it true…” The kid leaned closer. “That you took out your own uncle? Your father?”
Did it look like he had the patience for this bullshit? Cass reached out and grabbed the little prick by his collar. “Ask me another question,” Cass told him, “and I will put a knife in your heart. Sound fun?”
“OhmyGod.” A whimper.
