Page 16 of Tapped

“Evie,” he bites. “We’ve been investigating your husband for months. You have to understand that we’ve run your background.”

My gaze snaps to his chiseled face. “Is that supposed to make me feel better or worry me?”

He takes a step closer. We’re almost toe to toe. “It means I know everything about you. I know that your house is paid off, and not by drug money, but by your parents. I also know your father is the founder of BioNova.”

“If you’re trying to throw my family in my face, that’s happened more times than I can count in my lifetime. I’m immune to it at this point. If you have something to say, Micah, spit it out.”

His brows rise. “I hit a nerve.”

“Hardly. My family might not be perfect, but they’re mine. They aren’t horrible people, even if they are pretentious. My sister isn’t snooty, but she is crazy. My brother decided to veer outside the lane a bit and pretended to be a rebel. He’s got the three-inch tattoo to show for it.”

What happens next surprises me. His lips tip up on one side. Just a hint of a smile on the DEA agent.

I can’t lie. I like it. I haven’t seen his full-on smile, but I can’t imagine it would be sexier than the smirk aimed at me. “Three inches is … underwhelming.”

I frown. “Nice. I’m a doctor. I literally work on the human body for a living. If you think a sexual innuendo will rile me, you need to try harder.”

He leans in and lowers his tone. “You’re the one who said three inches. I was just stating that a tiny tattoo is sad. Go big or go home. And I haven’t said shit about your parents or your family. If you’ve been eating shit about them your whole life like you said, then me stating that I hope you can afford to arrange some real security for yourself and your son is nothing more than me trying to clear my conscience.”

I poke him in the chest. “Why are you so frustrating?”

He grabs my hand and holds it in his. “Why aren’t you grateful that I saved you from bashing your head in when you passed out?”

I pull my hand from his and reach for my purse. I need to get out of here, so I shove my business card at him. “I need to find Chase and get home. If you wouldn’t mind calling me to let me know the fate of my psycho soon-to-be-ex-husband, I’d appreciate it. And the other guy too. It would be nice to know when I can get back to living a normal life again. Or as normal as I can after today.”

He takes my card and tries to grab my arm to stop me, but I pull away and am out the door. I look both ways down the hall and take a chance toward what looks like an open area of cubicles.

I hear him before I see him. My son is as smart as he is loud. If that Brax guy gave him sugar, I’m sure he’s hating himself.

“I’m going to go to kindergarten when school starts, but my mom says I can’t talk when I get there otherwise I’m going to get in trouble.”

I come around the corner, and the agent assigned to babysit Chase is leaned back in an office chair. He kept to his word and hasn’t taken his eyes off my son. “I’m sure you can talk in kindergarten.”

Chase is tummy down in his own office chair, spinning in circles. “Nope. She meant it. She said so. My mom is a doctor for old people. She takes care of them until they die.”

I stop in my tracks. “Chase. We talked about this. You cannot talk about my patients that way.”

He doesn’t stop spinning. “That’s what Dad says.”

“Get off that chair before you get sick. What do you say to the agent for the snacks and watching you.”

Chase drags the toes of his sneakers across the floor until he comes to a stop. But he doesn’t thank anyone. He falls straight to his bottom when he tries to stand and erupts into a fit of giggles. “I’m twisty!”

Micah comes to a stop beside me as Brax motions to Chase. “He had some pretzels.”

I exhale. “Thank you. We’re all off schedule. He would’ve been starving when we got home, I’m sure.”

“We still need to talk about that,” Micah adds.

“I’ll take care of it. Like you inferred, I’m a Litchfield. I can arrange an army of body guards with the snap of my fingers. I’ll get on that.” I walk over to Chase and bend to collect his hand in mine. “Let’s go, baby. You can have whatever you want for dinner.”

Chase sways to the side when he climbs to his feet. “Ice cream!”

“You can have anything you want but sugar,” I amend.

He quickly regains his equilibrium. “I want popcorn!”

“That’s fine. You can have chicken and carrot sticks with your popcorn.”

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