Alyssa checked on the three unconscious men, kicking their weapons away and making sure they weren’t going to be waking up anytime soon. Once that was done, she walked over to the sedan and the two drugged girls lying in the backseat to find Tall, Dark, and Gorgeous already checking the twins’ heartbeats and respiration. The calm, confident way he moved suggested he’d done this more than a few times before.
“They’re both doing okay right now, but they could still have a bad reaction to the drugs,” he said, his concern obvious. “We need to get them to a hospital.”
Alyssa knew that was true, but unfortunately, it wasn’t that simple. Because of the direction her investigations sometimes took, they were conducted under the radar. Christine was the only other person in the LA field office who knew she was there and what she was looking into. If word got back that she was running an op like this without alerting the local special agent in charge, things could get complicated.
“We’ll get them to the hospital.” She pulled her phone out and sent a text to Christine before slipping an arm under the first girl and gently tugging her out. Christine would be up worrying about her, so she’d see the text without a doubt. “But we can’t call an ambulance.”
“Why’s that? You’re a cop, right?” he asked, as if he already knew the answer.
She turned to look at him, trying to make sure she didn’t dump the unconscious girl on the hard ground at the same time. She was about to ignore his question or, even better, redirect him by asking if he was a cop, but when she opened her mouth to go that route, her damn instincts took over and she found herself saying the exact thing she shouldn’t.
“I’m a fed, not a cop,” she said, handing the first girl off to him. While Alyssa had struggled a little with her, Tall, Dark, and Gorgeous scooped her up in one arm like she weighed nothing more than a bag of groceries. The girl’s eyes fluttered open and she gazed up at the big man holding her. She smiled, then passed out again. “But we still can’t call an ambulance. I have someone I know who can take them to the ER.”
“Why?” he asked, his voice more curious than suspicious.
“It’s…complicated,” Alyssa finally said, ducking into the sedan for the second girl.
She expected him to press for an explanation, but when she had the second girl out, she found him gazing down at her with a slightly amused expression.
“I’m okay with complicated,” he said softly.
The way his British accent sounded out the phrase had her wishing he would say it again, possibly while leaning over and breathing softly along the bare skin of her neck. Or tracing patterns on her skin with those long fingers of his. Oh yeah, that would do it.
“I’ll get my SUV and meet you at the head of the alley,” he said, setting the girl down beside the sedan. “We can put them in the backseat.”
“I don’t think so,” Alyssa said, handing him the second girl before he could say anything. “We’ll put the girls in the backseat of my car, and you can follow me to the drop-off point if you want.”
“What’s wrong with my SUV?”
She didn’t answer right away, taking a few moments to pull the tracking device out of her coat pocket, then move to the front of the car. Flipping the tiny on/off switch with her thumb, she leaned down to attach it to the underside of a radiator mounting bracket. The heavy-duty magnet made sure it stayed put. She stood up to find him regarding her with an arched brow.
“It’s complicated, right?” he asked, mouth quirking.
It was all Alyssa could do to keep an answering smile off her own face. That was all she needed, for things to be more complicated. So she nodded and headed for the alley exit.
“By the way, you never answered my question,” he said. “About why we can’t take my vehicle.”
She turned back to look at him. “I’m not putting those two unconscious girls alone in a vehicle with you. You could be a psychopath for all I know.”
He snorted. “I can’t be a psychopath. I’m British.”
She was about to ask exactly what the hell that was supposed to mean when he continued.
“By the way, I’m Zane Kendrick.” He smiled, perfect, white teeth flashing in the darkness. “And before you ask, yes, I’m a cop.”
Alyssa ignored the interest her mind was taking in that amazing smile of his, because hello…complications! Instead, she nodded and kept heading toward her car.
“Alyssa Carson,” she said casually over her shoulder. “FBI. But you already knew that part, right?”
She expected him to say something snarky in that delicious British accent of his. Instead, all she got was what sounded like a growl, and yeah, that was pretty okay, too.
Chapter 2
“I’m guessing Christine is FBI, too?” Zane asked as he perused the menu at the quaint, old-fashioned diner where they stopped for dinner an hour later. “As well as being one hell of a good friend?”
“What makes you think she’s a fed?”
Alyssa made a show of scanning the menu, even though she already knew what she was going to order. She’d known the moment Zane had suggested going to a diner to grab a bite to eat. What could she say? French fries were her jam.
