Macy’s grin slips. “They have pads for your breasts?”
Her pupils dilate when I nod. “They’re small compared to the ones you’ll wear between your legs. They don’t need to be thick. They only catch the occasional squirt of breastmilk, not the big nasty blood clots…” My words trail off when Macy looks seconds from fainting. She sways so uncontrollably that I grip her shoulders to keep her upright. “Are you all right?”
She peers at me with massively dilated eyes. “Yeah… Um. I’m not good with blood.”
“Okay.” How am I only learning this about her now? We spoke extensively during our multiple joint undercover stings. Hemophobia never came up. “But you know you can’t give birth without it, right?”
Her shoulder notches toward her ear before a faint whisper tumbles from her mouth. “I was kind of hoping.”
Laughter chops up my words. I’m an ass for laughing, and it is highly unprofessional, but it can’t be helped. I’ve always viewed Macy as more of a friend than a colleague, but her expression warrants more than a half-assed smirk.
I rarely laugh, but it doesn’t bother me as it usually does since it is happening with Macy.
If anyone should be allowed to let go of the reins occasionally, it should be us.
“Mace—”
She wipes my smile from my face with a stern I-was-trained-how-to-hit whack to my stomach. “It isn’t my fault. Underpaid and overworked nannies raised me, and the only time I could mention periods was when I was placing one at the end of a sentence with my English tutor.”
I laugh again, assuming she is joking. I am way off the mark. The disgust on her face proves this beyond a doubt. It is the same look that morphed onto her face every time her mother’s big, bulky tennis bracelet hit the desk in the interview room of the New York field division office. It was flashy and enormous and had me confused as to why anyone would kidnap her daughter. The perps would have made more from the sale of her bracelet than from the sale of Kendall’s reproductive organs.
Although I raised my suspicions with Tobias, I never spoke of them to Macy. Macy believed her sister was abducted, which was all the incentive I needed to keep Kendall’s case open.
Hating the unease forming in Macy’s eyes, I attempt to eradicate it. “Never pictured you as a trust fund baby, freckles.”
Anyone else would take my comment as an insult. Macy doesn’t. Everyone who truly knows her knows she takes nothing for granted. She won’t even accept the perks most agents get in a close-knit community. She pays for every coffee she drinks andevery parking fine she receives, which is ludicrous considering they were only issued because she had to park illegally outside a culprit’s residence or let them get away.
“Probably because I’m not a trust fund baby, Malfoy.” After grabbing her coat from behind the laundry room door, she heads for the exit. “My parents stripped my name from the ledger the instant I joined the bureau.”
She leaves her apartment, depriving me of the chance to interrogate her further.
After snagging my keys and wallet off the kitchen counter, I follow her into the parking lot beneath the apartment building. Her car is the standard government-issued vehicle that all agents receive during a long placement. Dust covers its dark paintwork; the cab is filled with paperwork, just like her apartment, and the gas tank is almost empty.
I angle my head to hide my smile when Macy asks Siri for directions to the closest mall before she enters the address into the compact GPS installed in her car’s dashboard. It doesn’t take a skilled profiler to deduce that this is the first time she has left her apartment in months.
I pull on my belt and latch it into place half a second after Siri announces for Macy to take the first right upon exiting the underground parking garage. She floors the gas, thrusting me back into my seat and whipping back my hair as my man bun once did.
My knuckles turn white when I grip the edge of my seat from Macy approaching an intersection without her foot slipping from the gas pedal. She takes the on-ramp sharply, cutting off motorists who have the right of way.
Tires screech, and the car’s momentum as it skids around a tight corner makes me one with the passenger door. Macy is utterly unfazed by the chaos she’s creating, and I savor the rush of adrenaline slicking my skin instead of considering whatdownfall it will leave in its wake when it disappears as fast as it arrived.
I’ll never let Macy know that, though. “For someone who gagged when I suggested a quick grocery run, you seem more than eager.”
She glances briefly at me, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. “I just recalled the date I have this evening and how severely lacking my wardrobe is. This could be my only chance to get a new LBD.”
I vomit a bit, and the bile scorches my throat. “You have a date tonight?”
I glance around the cab of her car, seeking the jealous, neurotic prick who spoke those words. When I fail to find anyone, I shift my eyes back to Macy. She casts a wary glance in my direction yet defiantly lifts her chin.
“Is he… ah… is he your baby daddy?”
Macy laughs, the jingle soft and carefree. “If he is, I wouldn’t know it.” My head smacks into the window when she races off the freeway like she’s in pursuit. Once she veers around two cars enjoying a leisurely coastal drive, she breathes out slowly. “Despite an eager participant putting his hand up”—her teeth clench as tightly as I clench my ass cheeks when she misses rear-ending a truck by a cat’s whisker before she enters the lot of a local shopping mall—“I requested that the donor remain anonymous.”
“Makes sense.” I work my jaw back and forth, striving to keep my cool. I’m not fretful about our near-fatal car crash. It’s from recalling a file I read this morning.
Macy’s last superior didn’t solely suggest she have an abortion.
He booked her an appointment.
