Page 82 of Love Undercover
Her words reignited the war inside him, the battle raging between the fear that whatever came next would keep them apart and the relief that she was willing to just have this moment, right now, with him.
But first.
He sighed, regret stilling the conflict tearing at his insides. “I have to look at this list again.”
She fought the reaction, but she still tensed up. “Do you have a plan?”
“Not yet,” he admitted, booting up his computer. He felt the depth of his frown as he shoved the flash drive into the port.
Right now, all he had was that list of names. There was nothing on it about the connection they had, no account numbers, nothing to even tie them to Zimmerman in the first place. He checked as soon as he could click the drive open, scrolling through every last name to make sure he hadn’t missed anything now that he had the time.
“No plan,” she repeated, way too calm.
After their day, maybe that prospect was less daunting than it felt to him.
“No. I think I need Greg.”
She made a face. “No one needs Greg.”
He almost laughed at the look she shot him, reminded of that moment when he’d kidnapped her, how she’d taken the time to deny that the guy was her boyfriend despite the predicament she was in.
“In this case, I think I do need him, if only for the information he has.” He rolled through the names again, wishing each one didn’t make his stomach drop lower and lower.
“This isn’t enough?” She nodded at the laptop, clutching the blanket closer to her chest.
He raised a brow at her, understanding that she hadn’t quite grasped what he had. “Tell me: what did you see on this list?”
She pulled her hair over her shoulder, trapping the silken locks between nervous, stroking fingers. “A lot of names. Big names.”
He nodded. “What else?”
She got that look on her face like a kid in school who was asked a question from the homework they hadn’t done. “There wasn’t anything else. . .”
He pointed at her, the truth of it clenching in his middle. “Exactly.”
Realization dawned in her eyes, and her shoulders dropped. A breath rushed through her parted lips. “You don’t have any proof.”
“All I have are names.” he shook his head. “If I bring this in, give them the story I’m piecing together, they’d laugh in my face. And worse, I’d tip my hand, and the guys on that list would make me disappear pretty quickly.”
“Even if you went to someone above them?” Her tone finally held the fear he’d been expecting.
Frustration snapped at his muscles, but he clamped down on his reaction so he could try to explain it. “For all they know, I made this list myself. I haven’t been in the Bureau long enough to build that kind of trust. Who would they believe? Me or my boss? Working undercover changes people, and he could spin a story about me turning to save his own skin.”
She made a choked sound like she was about to cry. Because it did seem rather bleak. But he knew the guarantee for blowing the whole thing up and coming out unscathed: Greg.
He shut his eyes briefly. “Sadie, do you have any idea where Greg could be?”
She pulled back slightly, thrown off. “I-I’m not sure.”
He took her hands. “Any bit of information could help. You were with him for, what, a year?”
Her lip curled back a little. “Almost two.”
He searched her eyes, trying not to sound too desperate, too intense. “There has to be something. You met his family?”
“Yes, but—“
“A vacation home? A cabin somewhere?”
