Page 43 of High Density

I was wrong; sitting next to Janey as she moans through her first tastes of a cheesy bratwurst pizza has to be the worst kind of tortureby far.

Chapter Thirteen

Janey

“Are you nuts?”

My eyes snap to JD, who, in turn, is glaring at Special Agent Kramer.

To her credit, Agent Kramer doesn’t seem in the least intimidated by his outburst.

“Not in the least,” she returns calmly. “In fact, it’s probably safest for her to simply go about her business as planned. It would definitely draw attention if she suddenly didn’t show up tomorrow.”

Theshethey’re talking about is me. Agent Kramer has asked me to return to the rodeo grounds tomorrow, act as I normally would, but with my senses on full alert. She suggested I was their best possible option for eyes and ears on the inside, without raising suspicion.

“As of tomorrow, when the fair and auction open up to the public, we’ll have agents inside as well, but they won’t be able to get into the livestock area without risking detection,” the agentcontinues. “There’s no time to get one of our own set up on the inside.”

She turns to me with a kind smile. “You’ll be wearing a wire so we can hear what goes on at any moment, and we’ll be close by at all times in case of an emergency.”

“I’ll do it.”

This time JD’s angry scowl lands on me.

“Like hell.”

Now, that gets my hackles up.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s flattering he cares enough to be protective, but last time I checked, I was an independent, grown-ass woman. I’ve long passed the age where I let anyone make decisions for me.

“Not your call to make,” I tell him sharply.

“This isn’t your business, Janey,” he returns. “Drug smuggling is way out of your wheelhouse.”

“That may well be, but this is more than that, it’s animal abuse, which makes it very much my business.”

I see a muscle ticking in his jaw as he tries to stare me down with those dark eyes, swirling with a different kind of heat.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Sheriff Ewing, who returned shortly after the FBI agent got here, addresses JD. “I have a couple of guys handling security at the livestock pens who’ll be able to keep an eye on her as well.”

“Hey, guys, stop talking about me like I’m not even here,” I cut in, annoyed. “I’m not some wilting flower. A lot of these almost two-hundred pounds you see are muscle, earned by wrestling large animals—some dangerous—every damn day of my life. I make my own decisions and can do my own talking, thank you very much.”

There’s an abrupt silence after my outburst, and I make sure to look each of them in the eye, starting with JD, and ending with Agent Kramer, who at least looks mildly amused.

“Fine,” JD is the first to speak. “I’ll be your assistant for the next few days.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Agent Kramer starts, but I interrupt.

“It’s actually not a bad idea at all,” I suggest, before explaining. “He was helping me almost all day today. I don’t think anyone would think anything of it if he showed up with me again tomorrow. You’d have two pairs of eyes and ears on the inside.”

It might also give him some peace of mind, and I would feel a little less anxious with someone I trust beside me, but I’m not about to admit to that after my rant about independence.

“We’ll have to wire you as well,” the agent concedes.

“I’m fine with that, Agent Kramer.”

JD’s answer still carries a bit of an edge, but he’ll get over it.

“The name is Stephanie,” she offers. “If we’re going to do this, you two have to be careful what you say to each other. Someone could overhear, so stay away from any mention of an investigation or the FBI. Get used to calling me by my first name, it’s safer.”

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