Page 30 of Deceive Me
Deacon handed the file back with a heavy sigh. “Global First hasn’t heard anything about this man or I’d know. So how did you discover him?”
When Dain stood and walked toward the table to put the report down, Deacon knew he wasn’t going to like the man’s answer.
“Elliot knew.”
Not what he’d expected. “How?”
Dain leaned back against the table, arms crossed over his chest, his stare boring into Deacon for so long he wondered if the man was planning on lying. “What she told you in the office is true: she had a case involving him. I don’t know too many details, but I do know it was early in her…career. The death of a couple in the Midwest. Car bomb.” Dain’s words were heavy, revealing how much the case had impacted Elliot—and Dain. Deacon tried to ignore the niggle of jealousy that rose at the thought. “The bombing was tracked back to Mansa, though they were never able to get enough conclusive proof for a formal indictment or request for extradition. But Elliot… That case was hard on her. She hasn’t forgotten them, or him.” He shrugged, the action stiff. “She’s tracked Mansa ever since.”
So she wasn’t just familiar with Mansa; he was her obsession. That explained so many things. He’d thought her drive was normal, was how she operated, always pushing to the front, always needing to be in charge, not submitting to anyone but Dain. Not on this case, apparently.
Deacon ran a rough hand through his hair. “Why didn’t she just tell me this upfront, when I asked?”
“Elliot is…complicated.”
Deacon snorted. That was the biggest fucking understatement ever.
Dain grinned, his tense posture finally relaxing as he moved back to the couch. “Look, Deacon…” A heavy sigh left him as he sat. “Elliot has a lot of things she doesn’t talk about, but it’s not because she’s subverting you. It’s just…her life hasn’t been easy. Anything personal that she shares with you is up to her, not me, but if it has to do with your daughter, with this case? If I feel like she knows something we need to know? I’ll make her tell you.”
Deacon rolled the man’s words around in his brain, looking for loopholes, looking for double meanings that could lead him to the truth. More and more, though, he wanted the trail to Elliot’s bed more than he wanted the trail to anything else. Her secrets were just a part of that.
The library door opened and Elliot walked through.
“Speak of the devil.”
Elliot glanced behind her. “Me?”
Dain stood, grinning. “You.” He walked toward the door, pausing next to Elliot. “Everything quiet?”
Elliot’s gaze shifted between Dain and Deacon warily. “Yes.”
“Good.” With a pat on Elliot’s back that was hard enough to bump her forward, he continued toward the door. “I’ll go check the kitchen for a dinner menu.”
The silence after Dain deliberately shut the door behind him felt thick and uncomfortable. Elliot didn’t continue into the room, and Deacon didn’t know what to say. But then Elliot crossed her arms over her ribs, plumping the soft mounds of her breasts up to the low vee of the paper-thin white T-shirt she wore, and his brain said fuck it and pushed him to his feet.
“Where’s Sydney?” he asked, stalking toward her. The glide of her tongue along her full bottom lip caused his blood to pool in his groin.
“She’s having a short nap; all the excitement, I think. King is outside her bedroom door.”
“Good.”
Elliot took a step back.
Never give ground to a predator.
She seemed to realize her mistake, jerking herself to a stop despite his advance. “Good?”
“Yes, good. We have loose ends from this morning that need to be tied up.”
She waved toward the closed door. “I thought that’s what you and Dain were doing.”
“Not loose ends with Dain. Loose ends with you.”
“Oh.”
The crease between her brows said she didn’t understand why he’d want to tie up anything with her, which was almost cute, if Elliot could be called cute. But the word didn’t really fit. Warrior. Powerful. Strong. Those fit. The idea of having all that strength under him, around him…
Fuck.
