Page 120 of The Savior

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

The venom-spewing partner standing in the elevator with Chelsea wasn’t the man she knew. Her Mac wasn’t hateful. He’d never dip to such lows, and if she hadn’t found such confidence with Liam, she might not be able to see the ugly words for what they were. Vicious and self-serving. “What has happened to you?”

He sneered. “Ask yourself that question, would ya, Kilpatrick?”

Bilious stomach pain punched Chelsea with such force that her eyes nearly watered. But he was in the wrong, and she’d die before a single tear could slip free. Mac would never have the satisfaction of making her cry. But—he had a good chance of making her sick.

The elevator doors opened, and Chelsea escaped. She rushed toward the bull pen, only to find know where to sit. She couldn’t go to her basement office and still work with Mac, and she didn’t know where to head. Agents in the bullpen glanced over, and a wave of nausea ebbed and flowed.

She spun and crashed into Calhoun.

“Kilpatrick,” he said as a greeting.

Mac strode up as if he hadn’t been a first-class jerk in the elevator. “Ready to get to work?”

“Would you give me a minute?” she snapped.

“I see the congratulations didn’t go as expected,” Calhoun grumbled.

She reeled back, eyeing both men. “What congratulations?”

Calhoun’s eyebrow arched. “Mac’s promotion.”

What?She thought back to how he hadn’t taken up for her against Calhoun, how he hadn’t reached out except for after it had been impossible not to when Zee Zee struck again. “You played me for office politics?”

Mac rolled his eyes. “Give me a break.”

“You did. Didn’t you? You let—”

“It’s not like you wanted to move up,” he interjected.

“No! I only cared about Zee Zee Mars!”

“Shut it!” Calhoun commanded, and when she and Mac stopped bickering, she realized they had everyone’s attention. “Conference room now.”

Mac snickered. “I think we both have news to share and celebrate.”

Chelsea’s jaw fell, and she didn’t know what was more shocking—the acerbic sarcasm or how he didn’t seem the least bit sad that their partnership was irreparably shattered. The hurt made her physically ill.

Calhoun marched them into the closest conference room. It overlooked the front parking lot, and Chelsea saw Mac’s jacket over the back of a chair and his coffee mug on the table. He’d been working in there and saw Liam kiss her goodbye?

It didn’t matter. She wasn’t hiding—except she felt certain she might be sick. Mac and Calhoun struck up a casual conversation as they took their seats. The banter stopped and their eyes remained on her.

Finally, Calhoun offered “Do you want to take a seat?”

“Thanks,” she hoarsely whispered. “But I’m going to run to the ladies’ room first.”

She prayed that the dizziness would subside, then forced herself down the hall and into the restroom. Chelsea splashed cold water on her face. But that didn’t help. Neither did the cold rag she made for the back of her neck.

She gave up and took a deep breath. That didn’t help either, and she had nothing left to do but go back to the conference room.

Both men were kicked back in rolling chairs that swiveled and rocked. They stopped mid-sentence when she walked in and stood. Her boss offered her a chair, but she opted for one at the head of the table so that both men would be at her sides.

“Chelsea,” Calhoun said, starting uncharacteristically with her first name.

The door cracked, and Dr. Casper walked in. “Good morning.”

It was a setup. An ambush. Mac had camouflaged the reason for the meeting so that she would come in.

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