“No, no. You’ll be workingwithhim. Not for him. Think of yourself as contracting your services to the government through me.” Gambol shot her a quick grin as they drove away. “Give Rapp a chance. He’s not as bad as he might seem.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
HadGambol said not as bad? Gunther Rapp wasworse.
Jane had met his type so many times before. A typical ex-special forces alpha male with control issues, except he looked to be in his mid-thirties. A little young to be so intimidating.
He came across as hostile, condescending, and maybe misogynistic, and Jane had shared just a handful of words with him at most.
The small coffee shop where they met wasn’t crowded. And while they had the corner all to themselves, Rapp seemed to suck up all the air.
She glared at Gambol, who shrugged and gave her an innocent smile before checking his watch.
“Well, I’m off. Jane, you’ll report to Gunther.” He turned to the tall man next to him. “Jane’s working this case with you as a contracted investigator, not as an official government agent. Though she’s technically FBI.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem since this isn’t an official FBI investigation, though, is it?” Gunther said in a deep voice filled with sarcasm.
“Gunther, play nice.” Gambol gave them both a two-finger salute then left without another word.
Jane studied Gunther Rapp and wondered what she’d gotten herself into. Though she did need something to occupy her time while she waited for a break in her investigation into her unit, she didn’t know if she wanted the headache of placating another idiot boss.
“Let’s be clear here,” she said.
“Oh, let’s.”
“First, I’m workingwithyou. Notforyou,” she said before he could and deliberately took a seat at a nearby table.
Rapp raised his brows but didn’t argue. He left her there and returned shortly with two black coffees. He tossed her some sugar packets and placed a mini pitcher of creamer on the table.
“Why, thank you.” Jane shot him a smile with a lot of teeth and took one cup, fixing it to her liking, not bothering to fill the silence with small talk.
Rapp sat down, the suit he wore not disguising the breadth of his shoulders or the muscles hidden by his sleeves. He had short, sandy-brown hair cut for practicality if not style and looked like a warrior with that stubborn square jaw and intense blue eyes. Eyes that looked at her like a wolf considering his prey.
But Jane was nobody’s victim. She’d spent years, first in the USMC, then again in the FBI, proving it. She could hold her own, even with a guy who looked like he could bend her into a pretzel.
“Okay, here’s what we know.” He glanced over as three patrons departed, leaving them alone except for the staff. He continued, his voice low, “You’re on leave from your unit due to a suspicious involvement in the death of a fellow agent.”
Jane sipped slowly, meeting his gaze.
His eyes narrowed. “You have a record of closing cases. Your name comes recommended by several sources, and since this investigation isn’t exactly front and center with the agency, more a fringe case stringing possibly linked crimes together, your involvement carries no risk. Yet.”
For a guy who looked like a gym bro, he sounded halfway intelligent.
“Gee, thanks.”
His expression lightened, and she had the feeling he wanted to smile but didn’t. “I’m leading a small team that’s looking into some related violent crimes. I have one agent who’s new to the area but used to working violent crime. And I’ve got a hacker with authority issues currently working off a court mandate by helping us.”
Jane blinked. “A ringing endorsement to joining your team.”
He grunted and sipped his coffee without cream or sugar. Dark and bitter, like him. She bit back her amusement at the thought.
“What do you bring to the table, Agent Rapp?”
“I’m on loan from another organization for a few months while my superiors fight it out over who FUBARed our last op, because it wasn’t me. Gambol needed help with a few cases, and he tapped me for this one.” Before she could ask another question, he said, “You can call me Rapp.”
“Great. You can call me Agent Cannon.” She held out a hand, waiting.
When he took hers, she ignored a spark of disquiet and warned, “I’m happy to help. I’m not happy to take any crap. I work hard, and I get results. All the macho posturing or ‘little lady’ BS just gets in the way.” She tugged her hand free easily. “Any questions?”
