Page 116 of Exposé

"Don't mess up, man. They like to tear you a new asshole and show you how replaceable they really think you are." Chip gave a lopsided shrug with his hands tucked behind him.

I frowned, my fist tight as I showed Trey my ID. "Busy day?"

"No more than usual." The door buzzed and unlocked as I pushed against it, the code phrase triggered. "Have a nice night, guys."

I scanned my retina in the second holding room, walked through the mechanically opened door, and then punched the second-floor button on the elevator.

My pulse thumped at a steady rhythm despite the adrenaline rushing through my veins.

"Nate, what are you doing here? Has something happened?" Callie stood at her desk, her purse slung over her shoulder as if she were on the way out. "Did you fuck this up? You did, didn't you?"

"Shut up, Callie."

I bypassed her and stormed through Judy, Keith's secretary. "He's on a call—Wait, you can't go in there." Pushing the door open, I slammed it shut behind me.

Keith sat behind his desk, his shoes propped up on the corner of his desk, his chair reclined. He'd pinned the phone handle between his shoulder and ear as he typed on his cell phone, multitasking.

"You." I pointed a finger at him.

His brows hiked. "I'm going to have to call you back." Putting the phone on the receiver, I rounded the desk and grabbed him by the lapels.

"Really? You sent someone else into my OP and threatened her—laid hands on her." I dragged him to his feet.

Keith’s calm demeanor didn’t falter as my fists twisted into his collar. He gave me a measured glance, his sharp blue eyes cutting through my fury like a scalpel.

"You best take your hands off me, boy," he said, his tone low and unhurried, as if we were discussing the weather and not the fact that I was seconds away from losing my shit. "Unless you're prepared to follow through on whatever it is you think you're doing."

I hesitated, my grip tightening, before I shoved him back into his chair. He adjusted his tie with maddening composure as if I hadn’t just stormed into his office and manhandled him.

"Sir," Judy said from the cracked door. "I tried to stop him."

He raised a hand. "Shut the door."

Judy clicked the door closed as I snarled. "You sent someone into my OP." My feet paced in front of his desk. "Do you realize what you’ve done? She’s spooked, Keith. You basically confirmed for her there's a cover-up going on."

Keith reclined in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of him. He regarded me with the patience of a father humoring an irate child. "Are you done?"

I glared, my words stuck in my throat.

"Because if this tantrum is all you came here to deliver, Nate, you’ve wasted your time—and mine."

My chest heaved, the adrenaline in my veins making it impossible to stay still. "You compromised everything."

"Sit." He pointed to the chair between us, his words heavy with authority that stopped me mid-stride.

I placed my hands on my hips. "The whole point was to get her to trust me. You sent another operative to rough her up, and now she’s putting walls up so high I might never get through them."

"Sit," he repeated, his voice a fraction firmer.

Grinding my teeth, I dropped into the chair across from him, every muscle in my body taut.

Keith steepled his fingers, his eyes never leaving mine. "Nate, you’ve mistaken proximity for control, and that’s your first error. Ava Thatcher would never trust you fully—not without alittle push in the right direction." He glanced at the wall with the image of the current sitting president. "Remember, I don’t gamble on unknowns. I act on certainties."

"Certainties?" I leaned forward, fists clenching on my knees. "The only certainty we have here is she's more determined than ever despite being spooked. Congratulations."

"Watch your tone." He turned his gaze back to me. "You may have boots on the ground, but this is my operation. I play with a full deck. I know where all the pieces are, where they're going, and how they are going to get there. You play it with blinders on." He drew in a controlled breath. "This isn't a game of egos, Barlowe—it's strategy. And you don't have to like the way it's played, but you will respect it." Keith’s eyes locked onto mine, the pause stretching long enough to make my pulse roar in my ears.

My jaw tightened. "If this falls apart—"

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