Page 87 of Security Breach

“I’m investigating them.” When David remained silent, Wells scowled. “I’m trained in interrogation techniques, too. If you think I’ll spill my guts, you’re wasting your time and mine. Besides, this is an FBI case, not yours. We have jurisdiction.”

“You said you wanted to help Emma. I’m giving you that chance.”

The agent straightened. “What happened? You should have let me protect her.”

“Last chance, Wells,” David warned softly.

“Or what?” he scoffed. “You’ll beat the information out of me? I’ll have your badge and press charges against you. Then, I’ll protect Emma myself. By the time you leave prison, she will have moved on to a better man than you.” Left unsaid was the implication that Wells might be that man.

Fury burned through David with the power of a raging inferno. Was this a ploy to sweep David out of the way and leave the path clear for Justin Wells to make a play for Emma, a woman the agent claimed he wanted to protect? Who would protect Emma from Wells?

Jon caught David’s eye and shook his head slightly.

Shoving his anger behind a mental wall, David leaned forward, gratified to see Wells flinch. “You want to play hardball?” David gave a slow nod. “Fine. I can do that. Fair warning, though. I’ll tear your life apart and expose every secret. I will ruin you,” he vowed. Nothing and no one meant more to him than Emma Tucker. If destroying the career of this FBI agent was the cost of protecting the woman David loved, he’d do it without one second of regret.

Wells paled. “You’re threatening me?”

“Am I threatening Agent Wells, Jon?” David kept his gaze locked on his quarry.

“I didn’t hear one.”

Wells shifted his attention to Jon. “Who are you?” he demanded.

“No one you want to know.” The sniper’s thousand-yard stare focused on Wells.

The agent swallowed hard. He ripped his gaze from Jon and turned back to David. “You brought a thug with you?”

As much as David would love to plow his fist into Wells’ face, he wanted to return to the safe house and Emma.

He reached into his pocket and withdrew a copy of the photo of one of the teams hunting Emma. David unfolded the paper and laid it on the coffee table without saying a word.

Wells stared at the photo, sweat beading on his forehead. “Where did you get this?” he said, voice hoarse.

“Explain it.”

The agent shook his head. “It’s not what you think.”

“This is your last chance to explain before I contact Director Whitehead.” He planned to contact Whitehead anyway, but the added pressure might encourage Wells to talk. David inclined his head toward the photo. “Jordan says you’re not involved with the Hunt Club.”

“I’m not,” Wells snapped.

“You aren’t,” Jon murmured. “But your cousin is, a fact Whitehead would be very interested to know.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Wells set his coffee mug on the coffee table with a thud and dragged a shaking hand down his face. “Estranged cousin,” he muttered. “How did you find out?”

“Doesn’t matter how we know,” David said, drawing the agent’s attention back to him. “Director Whitehead doesn’t know the truth or you wouldn’t be involved in this investigation at all. Jordan shouldn’t have let you be part of the team investing this. You aren’t objective.”

A scowl. “You’re not the poster child for objectivity, Montgomery. Besides, my cousin and I aren’t close, and I haven’t seen him in years.”

“Try again.” Jon pulled a sheaf of papers from the pocket of his cargo pants, unfolded one page at a time, and laid each on the coffee table.

Although difficult, David managed to keep his expression neutral. How had Jon located those so fast?

“Where did you get these?” Wells demanded.

“You should be more concerned about what I’ll do with them.”