Page 94 of Sinful Bride

I slam on my brakes and whip a hard right. Thank God I drove the Charger and not one of my own SUVs—this maneuver is sure to flip something larger.

I’m counting on it, actually.

My pursuer seems to make the same calculation and decides to continue on, abandoning the chase almost as quickly as they started it.

Fucking cowards.

I take one more turn for good measure. Just to make sure I’m not being followed by anyone else before heading back to the hotel with Daphne’s smoothie. I veer down a side road and?—

My foot slams on the brakes.

A fleet of identical SUVs hems in around me, corralling me in the side street safely away from peeping eyes. It’s a smart move for someone who doesn’t want to raise any questions.

Except I have several.

Starting with, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Special Agent-in-Command Smithson gives me a cocky little wave as he jumps out of his vehicle to meet me. The only reason why I don’t flatten him to the ground is the circle of agents surrounding us. “I thought we could have a friendly little chat.”

“By running me off the road?”

“It was a love tap, Chekhov. Besides, you’re not answering your phone. How else was I supposed to get in touch?”

“I don’t answer spam calls.” I grip my keys in my fist, my thumb hovering over the panic button just in case this gets ugly. “I’m here now. Am I under arrest?”

Smithson shakes his head. “No, no, nothing like that. This is genuinely just a chat. No need to get your panties in a twist.”

“Good.” I move my thumb away from the button. “Make it quick. My wife is waiting for me.”

“Such a gentleman. I’ll cut straight to the point.” He tilts his head to one side. “Sidney Ewing is missing. You know anything about that?”

I scrunch my nose and pretend to think about it. “Conrad?”

“Sidney Conrad Ewing, yes. The artist.”

I scoff. “‘Artist’ is debatable. You said he’s missing?”

“No one’s seen him since Tuesday.” Smithson looks me over. “We figured you might have an idea of where he went.”

“How should I know? We don’t run in the same circles.”

“Your wife knew him. She was engaged to him, too, before he cheated on her.”

I give him a patronizing stare. “I have better things to do than stalking my wife’s ex.”

Smithson shrugs and tucks his hands in his pants pockets. “Sounds like he was stalking your wife. Causing problems. I can’t say I’d blame you if you happened to take matters into your own hands.”

He’s trying to bait me. Trying to sympathize with me so I’ll slip up and drop hints here and there for him to follow up on later.

“He’s not the only one who’s been stalking my wife, despite all the restraining orders. Have you talked with the Hamishes?”

He flinches. There it is. Same as with Brennan.

“Why would I do that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you know them. And you know they’ve been kissing Ewing’s ass for years. Clearly, they would have more information about him than I do.”

“No, we haven’t talked with them.”

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