“He pulled a knife during the hunt. Said he was going to gut me, then track down Mia for himself.” My hands had curled into fists under the table. I made myself relax them. “It was him or me.”
“Our analysis suggests you could have incapacitated him without lethal force.”
“Your analysis wasn’t there.”
“If you’d played things differently…” Brennan leaned back, steepling his fingers. “Kellerman had connections we haven’t mapped. And the hunt itself. If you’d allowed it to proceednaturally, we might have gained insight into Oliver’s operation. His psychology. His?—”
I understood what he was saying. The implication underneath the bureaucratic language.
Play things differently. Let the hunt proceed naturally.
Let Oliver catch Mia. Let her become the prize for whatever that sick fuck wanted to do.
I was on my feet before I knew I was moving. Chair crashing backward. Fist already cocked, aimed at Brennan’s smug face.
The door opened.
“That’s enough.”
The voice was sharp. Authoritative. Female.
I froze, arm still raised, chest heaving. A woman stepped into the room—mid-fifties, gray hair in a severe bun, elegant pantsuit that was clearly not from the same department store as Brennan’s clothes. She carried herself like someone who’d earned her authority the hard way.
“Agent Brennan. Out.”
“Ma’am, I was in the middle of?—”
“Get. Out.”
Brennan left the papers scattered on the table and walked out. Didn’t look at me on his way past.
The woman closed the door and took the seat across from me. “Sit down, Mr. Cooper.”
I sat. Righted the chair first. My hands weren’t quite steady.
“I’m Deputy Director Hartwell.” She folded her hands on the table. “I apologize for Agent Brennan. He has a particular talent for saying exactly the wrong thing. I’m not sure how he was approved to talk to you, but I’ll handle that also.”
I didn’t trust myself to speak.
“I’ve reviewed your operation.” Her tone was brisk. “The intel you extracted from Oliver’s weapons database—buyer lists,delivery schedules, payment records—was extremely valuable. We’ve already identified seventeen potential targets.”
“Good.”
“Ms. Thornton’s observations will help as well, once she feels up to coming in and giving detailed descriptions.” Hartwell’s expression shifted, just slightly. “We appreciate both you and her and what you’ve gone through.”
I let out a breath. Felt something loosen in my chest. I hadn’t been looking for thanks, but neither had I been expecting to have my work thrown back in my face.
“Oliver offered me a position,” I said. “Full time. I told him I’d think about it, but I’m done. I’ve been undercover almost two months, and honestly, that’s enough for me. I’m not law enforcement. This isn’t what I signed up for.”
Hartwell nodded. “Understood. But I have to ask—would you consider, at some point, vouching for someone we could place long-term in Oliver’s operation? Since Oliver trusts you, that would give us an in that rarely comes along so neatly. It would mean possibly going back under short-term.”
I thought about it. About Oliver walking free. About next year’s hunt. About the weapons still flowing to people who’d use them to kill.
“Yeah. But if the Bureau wants something from me, I want something back.”
“Name it.”
“Mia’s camera equipment. Every piece of gear that got destroyed. You replace it.”
