I turn.
The woman standing in the doorway is tall, blonde, and beautiful in that polished, intimidating way that makes me immediately aware of every wrinkle in my cardigan. She moves like someone who knows exactly how much space she’s entitled to take up—which is all of it.
“I’m Special Agent Tanya Jeffries.”
The name hits me like a bucket of ice water.
Tanya.
As in Zacharie’sAlmost Wife.
I must react visibly, because her perfectly shaped eyebrow arches.
“You seem to recognize my name.”
“Um, yes.” There’s no point lying when my face gives everything away. “Zacharie told me about his work and, um, colleagues.”
“Since Zacky—”
Why is she calling him something that rhymes with yucky?
“—isn’t the type to mince words, I’m sure you know I’m more than that.”
Her tone is pleasant. Her smile is pleasant. Everything about her is pleasant in a way that makes me feel like I’m being slowly lowered into a tank of sharks.
I just nod and work on keeping my own smile in place. Jealousy isn’t healthy. Jealousy isn’t productive. Jealousy is—
Tanya settles into the chair across from me and flips open a folder with manicured fingers.
“So...you were a favor.”
“A favor?”
She smiles, and this time there’s nothing pleasant about it.
“How like him not to tell you. A colleague asked for his assistance in rescuing you.” She taps a page in the folder. “Cases like yours are always difficult, given the fact that it’s your own blood who got you in trouble.”
“Uh...yeah.”
I came here thinking there might be something I could do to help catch Braxton. But it seems I misunderstood, and I’m the one being questioned for—I don’t know—unnecessary use of agency funds and resources?
“And I see here in his report—” Tanya’s eyes scan the page. “—that you were shot.”
“Um—”
“Because you disobeyed a direct command from your assigned agent.”
I’m trying my best to think of her in a good light. I really am. But why is she making it sound like the agency would have been better off leaving me in Vegas to be auctioned?
“The other girls from your case,” Tanya continues, her tone light, conversational, devastating, “are all thriving in their new identities. New cities, new names, new lives. Clean breaks, just as intended.” She pauses. “And yet here you are. Still creating problems.”
My stomach sinks.
Tanya closes the folder and clasps her hands beneath her chin, studying me with the detached interest of a scientist examining a particularly disappointing lab specimen.
“Are you aware of how extraordinarily lucky you are to have Zacky rescue you? He’s the agent we send to dismantle the world’s most powerful crime and terror organizations from within. But because he owed a friend a favor, he had to turn down several critical missions to save you.”
“I—”
