It only rang once.
“Ah, director. I hope this isn’t a bad time,” I said politely, smoke falling from my lips with each word.
“Not at all, Mr. Stevens,” the man rumbled. “How can I help you this evening?”
There wasn’t time for bullshitting. “Dark Devil.”
“Understood.”
I hung up the phone and sat behind my desk, slapping the reports down on the desk surface. A knock sounded at the office door a second later. Bella emerged with medical supplies; I waved her off.
“Not necessary,” I snapped.
“But infection.”
“He didn’t break skin,” I quipped, my eyes scanning the papers. The last time he broke my skin was the night I discovered Dean Connors was alive…and whatever guilt that had settled in the pit of my stomach vanished the second that baseball player smirked at me.
It was going to be my absolute pleasure overthrowing Ray Romano.
Chapter Nine
Gwen
“James?”
The man’s head snapped up from his desk, his eyes tired but filled with rage. “What?”
I held up a brown bag from my place against the doorway. “I brought you some food.”
He scoffed. “Really, Gwen?”
“Yes, really,” I snapped. “You have to fucking eat.”
The sun had just set and I needed to make sure the man didn’t die of starvation. Last night, my fiancée came home with Jer and the agent standing before me. James brutally murdered Charles Tipponi, and they dumped the body on the pitcher’s mound at Busch Stadium.
It was bold; borderline stupid butbold.
The message would be received.
There was no doubt about that.
I tossed the bag on the surface, his file scattering as a result. He shot me a death glare. “I’m not afraid of you, Garner, so, you can cut that shit right now.”
“I don’t have time for this,” he quipped, picking up a stack of papers off this desk. I knew what they were: the contents of that fucking file—the damning evidence that Collin was Ray Romano’s bastard son. The night of Haley’s kidnapping, I forced Dean to tell me everything.
“You need to eat,” I said softly, trying a gentle approach.
He had barely eaten or slept since Haley’s kidnapping. Both of my best friends were missing, and it was allmyfault. James might have thought he was going crazy, but he didn’t know the meaning of the word.
He shook his head.
Obviously, gentle wasn’t the way to go, and that suited me just fine. I had enough attitude and anger to go around. I rolled my eyes at him, pulling my gun from the waistband of my jeans, pointing the weapon directly at his face.
He growled, unfazed. “In a federal building?”
I tilted my head, scowling at him. “Really? Says the man who unloaded a fucking clip into a mafia boss’s face,” I hissed.
Slowly, he let the papers fall away as he raised both hands in the air.
