“Brief,” Stryker repeated. “Don’t take him into the government pods. Don’t answer any personal questions about me.”
“Of course not.” She offered an assuring smile.
Stryker headed toward the elevator, stopping in the conference room. “My assistant will take you on a tour. Don’t pop in again.” Before Tyler Truman could reply, Stryker left.
As he entered the waiting elevator, his frustration had turned his shoulders to lead. Since he wasn’t alone, he pushed his feelings aside and asked Garrett how his new baby girl was doing. He checked in with Shayna about her new hacker pod. Each employee got a few seconds of his attention. He valued them and made damn sure they knew it. Something he didn’t feel when his dad had left.
He paused at reception where four employees manned the phones and welcomed visitors. “If Tyler Truman returns, do not send him upstairs.”
As Stryker pushed out the front door of his half-billion-dollar company, he slid on his shades and grumbled, “Noteveryonedeserves a second chance.”
He slipped into his Mercedes and drove out. Despite the warm sun and clear blue sky, his bad mood followed him all the way into Arlington. As soon as he pulled into the club’s parking lot, he spotted her in her car. Seeing Easton had this dizzying effect on him. On one hand, he liked working with her. On the other, he didn’t like being infuriated every damn time he was around her. She’d put him through hell and he was still fuming.
As she exited her vehicle, he checked her out. Tight jeans that flared at the bottom, a shirt, and a jacket. This time she’d worn stilettos. He pushed out of his car, shouldered his computer bag, and paused to admire the spectacular view. With every step she took in his direction, his body temperature climbed. The straight-laced detective was bringing the heat and he burned for her in all the ways that made him a man.
A pissed-off man who hadn’t gotten laid in months.
“Thanks for meeting me.” Her smile—that brief, breathtaking upturn of her mouth—sent a surge of energy whipping through him. “Captain Perry gave me the bad news. Wehaveto work together.” She grunted out her displeasure.
Knowing their mutual dislike was still intact bolstered his spirits. “Sucks for me, too.”
“We should try to get along.”
“Ever heard of faking it?” he bit out.
She extended her hand. “Deal.” Her soft skin and delicate fingers fit so perfectly in his large hand. Strange, he didn’t want to let her go. One firm pump, and she released.
“Not gonna lie,” she said, as he held open the door for her, “I’m not looking forward to working in your basement.”
He locked the front door, turned off the security alarm, and headed toward his office. “Water?”
“What I need is liquid courage,” she murmured.
“I can help with that.”
“I’m a lightweight when it comes to booze. Gotta stay sober. I got the tox report back from the first murder and I feel like I’m already behind.”
He grabbed two bottled waters then continued on to the basement door. He unlocked it and she breezed past him.
Wasn’t expecting that.
She waited in the stairwell. He hotfooted it downstairs and unlocked his office door. Motion sensors triggered the lights. “Welcome to my inner sanctum.” He turned around. No Emerson.
After setting his satchel on his desk chair, he found her sitting on the top step, hyperventilating, her eyes brimming with fear. He sat next to her, thinking she’d scoot over. She didn’t budge. They were smooshed together, their thighs pressing against each other.
When she stared up at him, the fear in her eyes surprised him. “I can hold my own at a crime scene. I can manage through blood okay, too. But I cannot go down these stairs.”
He had an idea. “Wait here.” Never before had he taken pictures of his office, but he snapped a few photos and sat beside her again.
“My office.” He flipped through the photos.
“Looks more like a command center.”
“Once we get working, you won’t even remember there are no windows.”
“And only one exit.”
“If you can’t get past this, the captain will assign the case to someone else. You want that?”
