Page 6 of Out of Control

“Oh, you’re coming, alright. It’ll be beyond your control,” Mr. FBI said, arrogant about everything, it seemed.

“I know my rights,” I said again, bringing the conversation to focus. “You touched me, assaulted me and my person first without ever identifying yourself as law enforcement.”

His jaw dropped, but he was quick to close his mouth back up again, his lips forming a thin line that wasn’t nearly as attractive as his lips at rest.

“Then two TSA agents touched me—again, without my consent—attacking me from behind, also without identifying themselves, and I defended myself. I have been entirely reactionary to others’ assaults on my person and did not instigate one moment of violence today. I defended my body when I felt threatened by unknown persons.That’swhat the security tapes will show.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. Now he was starting to get it.

“And now you have me detained against my will, a victim of violence and your carelessness, and youstillhave not identified yourself, shown a badge, or even attempted to Mirandize me. So no. I will not be going with you because I have done nothing wrong and you have no evidence to hold against me, even if you were to try to make up more phony charges to hold me just because your pride is wounded.”

“Who are you?” he demanded, clearly pissed off.

“You’ve handcuffed me and want to hold me against my will. Who the hell are you?” I countered.

His eye twitched, but otherwise he held the annoyance in well enough. Whoever he was, he was used to putting on a professional front. “Special Agent Lucas Blake with the Organized Crime department of the FBI. Now tell me your name.”

“Am I under arrest? Am I being officially questioned in relation to a specific crime, real or suspected? I don’t believe so because I’ve done nothing wrong and you wouldn’t want your mistake to be on record. So I don’t believe I need to answer that question.”

Now it was that strong jaw that was twitching as he tried to hold in his anger.

“Maybe if you ask nicely and uncuff me, I’ll tell you what you want to know. Maybe.”

That professional demeanor slipped for a second as he rolled his eyes, that same hazel gaze rolling right back over to see if I noticed. Of course I did. We were staring at each other. But then he surprised me by taking responsibility again.

“You’re right. I never identified myself in the heat of the moment. I’m sorry.” Then he took out a little key ring and unlocked the cuffs. I rubbed the newly freed wrist. The metal wasn’t too tight or painful, but it was hardly comfortable. I slowly stood up, making sure I kept my balance. Agent Blake held a hand out to me as he hopped down from the open ambulance door, and I took it to help ease my jump down.

“Now what’s your name?” he asked, holding eye contact with me just a touch longer than necessary. I broke first, looking away as I secured my purse on my shoulder.

“My mother always told me not to give my name to strangers. Especially not to assholes who thought they were entitled to it.” And I added a saucy hair flip and wink, swinging my hips as I walked away. Let him be angry. Let him stare.

I had a mission to complete. I wouldn’t let him get in my way.

three

Lucas

Iwanted to shake her until she just stopped resisting and let me do my job.

But it wasn’t her fault that I fucked up. Again. I ignored the chuckling paramedic next to me while I gave her a head start of a couple of seconds, then slammed the vehicle’s door closed and hurried after her.

I was good at my job. I had a perfect record with the Bureau before this damn case.

But then my CI went missing. He was found dead and partially dismembered, meaning the poor man was likely tortured for working with me. Then his killer got the jump on me and fired a gun at a crowded airport before disappearing again. I had a hell of a lot of paperwork waiting for me when I eventually checked back in at the office. Our department’s floor receptionist was going to bepissed.

The witnesses to his murder was followed to the airport and almost didn’t get away in time. Thankfully, I got a text fromtheir assigned US Marshal when they boarded, so I knew they were safely on a plane out of state. I could focus on bringing the case together here in San Francisco while the Marshal dealt with those two; I could tell they’d be troublemakers, but Witnesses C and W weren’t my problem anymore.

Antonio Conti was my problem. Leo Lombardi. Angelo and Carlo Morelli. Dirty cops. They were my problem. My witnesses were safe, but they wouldn’t stay that way if I couldn’t bring the whole Morelli organization to justice.

But this woman…Leo Lombardi texted Antonio Conti to kill her. She was in danger. But she was flirting with Antonio before he got the text, so she was involved? Maybe?

I didn’t know if she was a potential victim or a person of interest or both, but I wouldn’t let her get away when I already lost so much in this case. I needed to pull in a home run, all the T's crossed and I's dotted to keep my case closure rate pristine.

It would be hard, maybe even impossible, to keep an eye on her if I didn’t know her name. I’d checked her purse for ID while she was unconscious, but there was nothing. Whatever identification she used to get through airport security, she tossed before meeting Antonio and kicking everyone’s ass, including mine.

That was hot as hell.

No. It wasn't.

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