Page 40 of Ace of Spades
“Man, that’s not good. Not good at all,” Alex said when he finished. “You’re gonna pull her from the investigation, right?”
“Already did, and she’s not a happy camper right now. She can still work on the case behind the scenes, but that’s it.” He opened the container of coffee, pouring some in the cup. “You can go home now.”
“Nope, I’ll hang for a while.” Alex took the cup out of his hand. “You’ve been up all night. Grab a catnap, and I’ll keep watch.”
Baby brother was as stubborn as they came, and knowing it would be useless to argue, Nate reclined his seat. “Wake me in an hour.” Although he was tired, he doubted he’d be able to sleep, but he’d give it a go.
“Up, Sleeping Beauty. Your woman’s on the move.”
Nate yawned as he blinked his eyes open. “What’d you say?”
“Taylor’s backing out of her space.”
“This early, she’s probably heading over to Rosie’s.” He and Alex slid down in their seats as she drove by. His bike was fortunately parked on the far side of his car, out of sight. The sun was just now coming up, so she was heading out earlier than usual. It didn’t take much thinking to know she wanted to be at their field office before Rothmire arrived so she could ambush him the minute he walked in the door.
“Out,” he said.
“I saved you some coffee.” Alex handed him the container. “You’re welcome.”
“Sorry. Thanks.” He jogged around to the driver’s side, but paused. “Seriously, thank you, brother.” Nate tossed him the bike keys.
Alex saluted him. “Anytime.”
It didn’t take long to catch up with Taylor, and she was definitely heading to Rosie’s. He pulled over a block away, and while he waited for her to come out, he called Rothmire. The conversation went the way he’d expected. The boss agreed that she needed to stay in the background and would back Nate up on his decision.
Taylor was going to be royally pissed, but Nate could live with that. He couldn’t live with anything happening to her.
The bag swung back her way, and Taylor punched it again—a hard one, two—visualizing that it was Nate. Still furious after her meeting with Rothmire, she figured she had two choices. Go on a rampage at the office or head straight for the gym, taking her frustration out on the heavy bag.
How could Nate do it? Even though he knew how much this investigation meant to her—that catching the bastard killing these poor women, and who had maybe killed her mother, was something she needed to do—he’d pulled her off the case. And worse? He’d gotten to Rothmire before she could, convincing their boss that her butt should be parked behind a desk for the duration.
She was a highly trained federal agent, perfectly capable of taking care of herself. Apparently, it didn’t matter that she could outshoot most of her fellow agents, could physically fight them and win, and could outthink them. Nope, she was just a silly girl who had to be protected by the alpha men in her life. Well, they could just go eat dirt.
She’d been too young to save her mother, but she could save women like her who had no one else who cared enough to fight for them. The bag came her way again, and Taylor twisted in the air, back kicking it, sending it soaring in the opposite direction.Take that, Nate.
“Impressive.”
Taylor eyed the man standing off to the side. She’d seen him at the gym a few times, mostly walking on the treadmill. He was maybe ten or fifteen years older than she was, and his hazel eyes were kind.
She smiled. “Thanks.”
“You need a sparring partner?” he asked, his voice gravelly.
Her gaze slid over to Nate, leaning against the wall as he watched them. It was as if they had some kind of psychic connection; she knew when he was within fifty feet of her. If looks could kill, the nice mantalking to her would fall over dead this very second. She tore her gaze away from Nate.
“Not today, but thanks for the offer,” she said, offering her hand. “Taylor Collins.”
He stared at her outstretched hand for a moment, as if surprised. “Wade Tillman.” He wrapped his fingers around her hand, giving her a firm shake.
She liked that about him, that he wasn’t afraid of hurting her like some men whose handshakes were limp, as if she were a breakable doll. Little did they know. From the corner of her eye, she caught Nate’s scowl. Well, screw him.
“Nice to meet you, Mr.Tillman. See you around.” She walked away, needing to get out of Nate’s line of sight. Even furious with him, his eyes on her sent a jolt of desire streaming through her body, her girly parts not caring one bit about his betrayal.
Last night had been amazing, right up until Rothmire had called, telling them another woman had been murdered. It went downhill from there, and she wasn’t ready to face Nate after he’d gone behind her back.
And that hurt. He could have at least told her he was going to talk to Rothmire. The fact that those hours he’d spent in her bed were amazing—mind-blowing, if she were honest with herself—no longer meant anything to her. And she’d keep telling herself that until she believed it.
How was she supposed to act around him now? Pretend last night had never happened? If nothing else, she’d learned a valuable lesson. Never fall in love with one of her fellow agents. Even if it wasn’t an office rule, it was now one of hers.
