AFTER Icalled and reported the break-in at the Harlow Ranch last night, AD Dunn gave me more control over Ms. Harlow’s protection and permission to pull in other agents to watch her. I knew they would come for her quickly, I just didn’t think it would be like that.
And I sure as fuck didn’t think they would try to inject her with anything.
He was pissed that I brought her back to my house, but when I pointed out it was either my house or hers, he caved and gave permission for her to stay at my house with me.
Swan’s face is on the small screen next to the larger screen on the wall in the conference room AD Dunn pulled us into for a brief. It’s odd to see my kitchen in the background as he swivels back and forth in the office chair he’s pulled from the office to the dining table.
I told him to stay in the office.
I’m a firm believer that people who leave the pictures of the inside of their home on house hunting sites are just asking for trouble, it’s practically an invitation to break in. So, having the inside of my home plastered on the screen for everyone in the room to see is pissing me off.
Shooting a text to Swan to blur the background, I set my phone back on the conference table a little too hard. AD Dunn stops talking and stares at me in question. I lift my hand in apology and set it back down on my leg.
On the screen, Swan looks at his phone and smirks, which pisses me off even more. His face gets bigger on the screen as he leans toward his laptop and starts looking for how to blur the background. Shouldn’t he already fucking know that?
AD Dunn’s account continues. “The victim didn’t have ID on him at the time of death, but we have confirmed that he was a runner for Jessup until about two years ago. Details are in your folders, but based on the intel we received from our inside agent, Terrell has been mixing and selling, which is likely the reason for his demise.”
The conference table in this room is one of the smaller ones, it only seats ten, but every chair is full. Everyone’s eyes are on the large screen with the picture of the dead guy, which AD Dunn is standing next to.
I’m fucking exhausted. Last night, I only got a few hours of shuteye before Ms. Harlow woke me up screaming. The night before that, I tossed and turned on a couch, and the night before that, I was able to squeeze in about two hours after I dropped her off at her house and then went back to the crime scene.
AD Dunn’s monotone voice isn’t helping any. The more he talks, the further I slump into my chair. I already know all the details he is sharing with the room, but I stifle a yawn anyway, leaning on the table with my jaw in my hand.
The tight little ass that moves into the background behind Swan gets my attention, exhaustion is replaced with hyper-awareness. She is in a pair of cut-off jean shorts and a form-fitting t-shirt that shows her narrow waist over the curve of her hips and ass. Her long blond hair is in a ponytail, hanging between her shoulder blades down to her lower back.
She must have got a shower after I left my house earlier today. After I got her settled in the guest bedroom, I took my own shower to go to work, hoping it would wake me up. No luck.
When I told her I was leaving, she gave me a wave over her shoulder like I was interrupting, as she sat at the dining table looking at pictures of Swan’s kid. But when I left, her hair was still down and disheveled from the night before.
Either way, she’s fucking beautiful.
She opens a cabinet and reaches for a glass on the middle shelf, and several catcalls, the loudest coming from Sanders behind me, pierce the room. I see her body freeze as her hand jerks back down from the cabinet, empty.
Seeing her freeze up in discomfort like that has every muscle in my body ready to go ten rounds, and I sit up to look at the little camera on the wall over Dunn’s head, hoping Swan sees me on his screen.
“Damn, Abbot, you got that at your house twenty-four-seven?” Sanders asks behind me, his voice traveling over the intercom.
Ms. Harlow spins around to look at the laptop Swan is sitting in front of, and her face turns scarlet. What I can’t tell for sure is whether her face is red from embarrassment or anger. I’m leaning toward anger.
“Swan! Blur the fucking background and put in your goddamn earbuds.” I bellow at the camera.
Swan at least has the decency to look sorry.
She dashes out of the frame, but Sanders is still laughingbehind me. Spinning in my chair to face him, I stand up and grab his stupid fucking henley to pull him with me.
The smile falls from his face when I pull him nose-to-nose with me, and growl, “Say it again, motherfucker.”
Every chair in the room was vacated when I grabbed Sanders, and now there are guys standing around us to see if they need to break up a fight.
Sanders looks over my face. His hands are fisted at his sides, and his jaw is ticking in anger. “Sorry, man, it was just a joke.”
The look on his face is anything but sorry.
I shove him back, and a couple of the guys behind him help steady him. Looking around the room, I roll my head from one shoulder to the other. I take a calming breath before I say, “That woman’s life is in danger. Anyone who can’t take that seriously can walk the fuck out that door right now. I don’t need you on my fucking team.”
Everyone in the room is silent, and no one moves. Including Sanders, who is looking at me like he wants to throttle me.
When the meeting is over, Dunn waits until everyone is out the door and shuts it, so it’s just him and I.
