And I can’t even talk about any of this with Knox or you, but she couldn’t lead with that, could she?
“I imagine Knox isn’t taking the news well. He hasn’t returned any of my calls.” He finished the rest of his drink and set the glass on the end table next to him.
She checked the time on her watch. 11 p.m. “I haven’t spoken with him since this morning,” she admitted.
Mendez had only given Adriana her two cell phones back after he’d personally escorted her to Isaiah Bennett’s door, as if he didn’t trust she wouldn’t make a beeline for Knox’s room unless he played watchdog.
She’d had to chew on her lip to bite back the string of curses she wanted to shoot his way at the sight of so many missed calls and texts from Knox.
“I believe Knox and his colleagues are probably going to be running their own investigation,” Bennett said. “Is that going to be a problem? I don’t want him to get into any kind of trouble.” He clutched his ankle. “You know we haven’t had the best relationship since I screwed up by not supporting his choice to join the Navy, but I really hope that changes.”
For the sake of your campaign?
“He’ll come around if he believes you’re sincere,” she answered as honestly as possible.
He angled his head to the side. “You and my boy, you go way back. You haven’t had an easy life, and I’m glad my son never abandoned you when he—”
“He didn’t abandon you,” she interrupted without thinking. “Er, sir.” She scooted forward on the couch as she sought the right wording to redeem herself. “He abandoned the political spotlight to follow his dreams.”
“He says he wants me to be president now, and given our history, I guess that surprises me.”
Me too. “Do you not want his support?”
“I want him to be happy. However that looks. Whatever that means. And I also want what’s best for this country.”
Was this the answer of a politician or a father?
“But I’ve gotten sidetracked. I asked you here for a reason, and I’m hoping you’ll say yes. I’ve already spoken with the agent in charge, Rodriguez, and I put in the request before you got here.”
Was he going to put her on his protection detail? At least she’d be out from under Mendez’s thumb, but she also wasn’t prepared to leave the investigation. Plus, there was Knox to consider. He’d lose his mind to know she’d be standing on guard for his dad.
“I’ll be hosting a fundraiser ball in Atlanta on Saturday. Going back to where I first got my start in politics,” he said after a moment. “And I’d like you to attend the event.”
“Oh.” Her hand went to her chest. “I’m honored. I won’t let you down, sir.”
He held out a hand. “I think I misspoke. I want you to attend as my guest. I’ll be honoring men and women who have served abroad and at home, particularly those who’ve lost their lives.”
She lifted her eyes to the ceiling, hoping to keep her emotions at bay. “My mom.” Her voice remained soft, so it didn’t crack.
“She’ll be one of the honorees, yes, and I’d like you to say a few words on her behalf, as well. Her old partner will be speaking. Your dad’s also invited to attend.”
“I don’t know what to say.” She wasn’t afraid of public speaking. She used to lecture to a hundred students at GW. But talk about the greatest loss of her life in front of a crowd?
“I know it’s a last-minute request, and I wasn’t planning on putting you on the spot like this, but since you’re here, it’d mean a lot.”
She forced herself to stand. “I really should focus on the case.”
“From what I hear, there are too many people crowding the FBI office as it is.”
“Will Knox be there?” she asked.
“If he’d ever answer my calls, I planned on requesting his presence in a non-working capacity as well.”
“I don’t know if he’ll take the night off.”
“He would for you.” He smiled, and now she couldn’t help but wonder if she got the politician-pull-over. AKA . . . played.
Chapter Twelve
“Before you say anything, hear me out.” Adriana sat on her bed and kicked off her shoes. Heels had been a dumb idea given all the running around she’d done that day.
Mendez had instructed her not to head back to the office after she met with Isaiah Bennett. It’d actually been an order, not a request. He’d said something about her needing sleep as if that was possible.
But when she returned to her room after visiting Isaiah’s suite, she hadn’t expected to find Knox sitting outside her door.
She’d been about to call him, but here he was instead. His eyes had drawn her in the second he’d looked up, and her spine had bowed ever so slightly with regret for being forced to keep him at a distance today.
“Well?” He leaned against the wall alongside her bed, arms crossed and lips in a hard line that’d probably intimidate any other person. “Who gave the order to withhold information from me? Mendez? Your boss?” He shoved off the wall and strode around the bed to stand before her. “You know I didn’t leak Aaron’s name. None of my guys did.”
She stood so she wouldn’t have to peer up at him. Of course, she was still several inches shorter without heels, so, up was the only direction to go if she wanted to make eye contact.
The normal warmth in his eyes was gone, hidden behind enemy lines. But they weren’t enemies. They were on the same team. Yet, their jobs were hammering an uncomfortable wedge between them already. Partially Mendez’s fault.
“I went to bat for you, I promise.” She wet her lips, searching for a sign he believed her. “But both my phones were taken from me this morning. I just got them back.”
“What?” His brows shot up. “Mendez?”
She was almost afraid to nod, worried he’d lose his head and go after the director. “There were concerns I’d provide you updates.”
“The president authorized my team access to this case.” There wasn’t much fight in his tone, though. He must’ve anticipated the FBI would keep his people in the dark, but he probably hadn’t expected Mendez’s dick move of taking her phones.
“The Feds don’t know you like I do. They’re trying to protect the integrity of the case even if I disagree with their methods,” she answered on a frustrated sigh.
He remained quietly observing her, and she shook her hands out at her sides, waiting for him to ask her the question she could feel coming.
It may have been small, but the step he took backward was the same as one step forward and a smack in the face. “You think he’s guilty, don’t you?”
This wasn’t what she wanted. A fight with her best friend. And she still had to find a way to bring up his father’s request.
How could she answer his question without divulging classified details she’d been sworn to withhold from him?
“The evidence points to Aaron,” he said while offering his back.
He’d changed his clothes from earlier. Black jeans. Dark running shoes. And a gray tee.
“The girlfriend works at the hotel. The email. Rifle registered in his name. He ran. I get it.” He braced the back of his head with both palms and tipped his chin to the ceiling. “The real shooter went through a lot of trouble to not only buy himself time to get away with multiple diversion tactics but to ensure he was seen on camera. I think he wanted us to connect the dots about the girlfriend and the hotel—well, once he’d gotten far enough away first. We’d find a guy with the same build as Aaron on camera. Stacked evidence.”
It was apparent he’d figured out quite a lot on his own, and she didn’t want to know how.
“You think Aaron’s being framed?” She tossed her black blazer and was in the middle of popping open a few buttons on her white starched blouse when he faced her.
Dark brown eyes moved over her chest, and her skin heated beneath his stare.
His eyes were on her hand, at the touch of exposed cleavage beneath her fingers.
“K
nox?”
He blinked not once but twice. What was that all about? The moment in the elevator when she thought he was about to kiss her . . . had she not dreamed that up?
He was one more throat clear away from her asking what was really on his mind, but then he spoke. “If Aaron was going to kill a guy, why send an email that morning, which implicated him, but then go to all the trouble to escape unnoticed?”
She yanked at the tie in her hair and let the locks fall over her shoulders. “He missed. He wants a second chance.” She had to play devil’s advocate, even if she may have agreed with him.
“Someone, not Aaron, wanted us to find that email.” He spoke with authority. From a place of experience.
Was this the kind of work he did for Scott & Scott? She’d never known exactly how he helped people, but she hadn’t imagined it’d be so investigative in nature.
“The email was traced to Aaron’s IP address,” she reminded him.
“Come on, Addy,” he drawled. “Anyone with access to the Internet could’ve learned how to hack his account remotely. That’s not hard at all, and you know that.”
True. Ugh, how had he roped her into a conversation she wasn’t supposed to have?
“Your people figure out yet that Chelsea’s and Aaron’s parents live within thirty minutes of each other? Maybe their paths crossed before Charlotte.”
“I’m sorry I can’t tell you anything. I wish I could, but I have orders. And, if anyone should understand that, it’s you with all your secretiveness about your job.”
His jaw tightened beneath his five-o’clock shadow. His eyes contemplative. Shoulders going back with an extra oomph of tension. “I can talk to Chelsea myself,” he said after expelling a deep breath. “I guess I’ll head there now.” He started for the door.
“Please, don’t,” she whispered, struggling to find her voice. “Showing up at her place at night might not be the best idea. Plus, there are two patrol cars parked outside her apartment in case Aaron decides to make an appearance.”
“Do they have orders to stop me?” His brows rose in question.
“I don’t know.” And that was the truth. But her gut screamed yes! Mendez would probably throw him in jail for felony obstruction.
The man who faced her wasn’t the same guy who’d chosen a star for her mom, or eaten peanut butter out of the jar with her while watching her favorite flicks. And he wasn’t the same guy who willingly—okay, he complained, but still—binged the entire first and second seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer with her over the holidays. In her defense, he’d bought her the DVD boxed sets. Limited editions with exclusive bonus scenes. Also autographed. He’d said he knew a guy who knew a girl. Probably Luke’s famous wife.
But no, the man in front of her right now, wasn’t that guy.
This man was the SEAL, the person he tried so desperately to keep her from as if to . . . what else was new?—protect her.
“I know you’re frustrated. I get it.” Believe me, I do. “But don’t be upset with me.”
He was quiet for a moment before saying, “I know it’s your job on the line. I’m not mad at you.” His eyes dropped to the ground. “I hate being left out of the loop.”
She turned and glimpsed the minibar beneath the flat-screen TV on the other side of the room. She needed a drink, and since Mendez wouldn’t let her return to the office until tomorrow, why not? “You’re hell-bent on clearing Aaron’s name because he was a Teamguy. It may influence your perspective.” She hated herself for basically offering Mendez’s words to him. A sour taste remained in her mouth as she crossed the room to the bar.
“You know something is off, too.” His voice remained even and steady, owning his convictions.
She opened the little fridge and snatched two beers and faced him. “Are your people working the case right now?” she deflected.
“Of course,” he said. “Are yours?”
“Yes, but I’m being forced to take the night off.” She extended the beer, and he ate up the space between them in three strides, but he didn’t take the beer. “Take the night off with me.”
He shook his head. “How can I relax with all that’s going on?”
“You’re angry and rightfully so. But you haven’t slept, and you’re running on adrenaline. It’s not a good combination. You need to rest so you can think clearly in the morning. Let your friends handle things tonight.”
“And get drunk with you?” He palmed the stubble on his cheek.
“I didn’t say drunk.” She set his beer down and popped open her can. She took a long swig of the beer, allowing it to hit the back of her throat, cooling her off. “I need my best friend right now, and I think you need me, too.” She lowered the can and rested it against her thigh. “You have your teammates, but—”
“I need you.” The words rushed out, catching her off guard. Not his admission, but the way he’d delivered it. Gruff. Gritty. Sexy.
“You do?” Of course he needed her. She had no idea why those words popped out. She supposed she was trying to buy herself some time.
“I do.” His tone had changed. Less iceberg and more honey. But the touch of sexy remained.
And then, he stepped back, kicked off his sneakers, and snatched his beer.
He was staying. Thank God.
He moved across the room and sank onto the floor at the foot of the bed, pressing his back to it for support. He stretched out his long legs and rested the unopened can atop his thigh.
Her attention moved to her beer, and she willed away the swarm of activity in her stomach. The clash of jet planes. The fluttery sensation of anxiousness. The . . . desire.
Knox Bennett was all kinds of sexy, but he wasn’t all kinds of sexy with her. He probably saved that for other women. So, whatever she thought she’d witnessed or heard from him lately, stemmed from an overactive and sleep-deprived imagination.
He hadn’t nearly fled her apartment last weekend because he was worried he’d slip a hand under the covers and between her thighs.
He hadn’t almost kissed her in the elevator last night.
And he certainly hadn’t checked out her breasts or used his sexy voice on her right now.
He was tired. Stressed. Maybe even scared.
What he wasn’t was a man finally stepping out of the friend zone.
. . . Right?
“We, uh, we’ll find whoever is after your family.” She needed to switch back to the reason they were both in Charlotte.
Facing him, she sat on the floor and matched his position by extending her legs. She supported herself by propping one palm on the floor off to her side.
He popped open his beer can. “I should probably let my people know I’m not coming back.”
“So, you’re spending the night?” Her heart shouldn’t have beaten so quickly.
“I thought you wanted me to stay.” He frowned.
“I do.”
“The couch,” he said, tipping his chin toward the small seating area by the window, “is fine.”
“You’re sleeping with me. Period.” She purposefully huffed, and he actually smiled.
“Oh, am I?” He let his brows rise and fall twice. And her Knox was back. “You don’t let other guy friends sleep next to you, do you?” He took a drink. “Because I’ll be needing their names and numbers.”
He knew the answer, but if he wanted to play this game—“What, you can’t get tactical and find their numbers on your own?”
“Oh, I can, but for expediency’s sake, I’d appreciate the—”
“You know I don’t sleep with anyone but you.” She lifted her palm from the carpet and smacked his leg.
His smile stretched, damn him.
“You know what I mean.” She dropped down, so her back was flush with the carpet. She kept a hold on her beer off to her side.
“You going to reschedule that blind date?”
Why in the hell are you asking me that now of all times? “Why are we talking about this?” she asked, ec
hoing her thoughts.
“Because you won’t talk about the case.”
She let go of the beer but remained flat on the floor. “Well, I don’t have time to get to know some stranger. Play the twenty questions game. Most men only want to screw, anyway.”
He muttered something then asked, “Are all guys assholes?”
“No, not all of them.” She closed her eyes at the feel of his hand on her leg. He began massaging her calf muscle, and she resisted a moan. “How’d you know I was sore?”
“Because you’ve been in heels all day running around with the FBI chasing leads. I’m betting you didn’t stretch this morning.”
“It wasn’t high on my to-do list.”
“You gotta take care of your health,” he said as he worked at the muscle. He knew exactly how she liked to be touched. This man really did know everything about her, didn’t he? Everything except for the fact that she wished he’d be the one to get into her pants. But it was a dream she needed to let sail away and live in the land of it-will-never-happen.
He reached for her other leg next, but this time, he shifted her pant leg up and moved his hand over her skin.
“Yes,” she said in a soft cry. “Right there.”
“How are your quads?”
“They’re tense, too,” she admitted, but if he touched her legs that high up, he’d discover the truth. He’d know she’d been lying to him for years. Well, omitting how she felt about him. But that was the same as a lie, right?
He removed his hand from beneath her pant leg, and he must’ve repositioned himself because both hands worked above her left knee atop her pants.
She shifted up on her elbows to view him. “I’m supposed to be comforting you.”
“This is comforting me. Seeing you at ease makes me feel better. Makes me forget all the dark shit.” He was on his knees, resting back on his heels, as his hands moved over the top of her leg. “You have so many knots.”
“Uh-huh.” She shifted to her back again, unable to look him in the eyes as he massaged her, worried her cheeks were candy apple red. “This is better than sex.” She swallowed a moan, worried it’d come out like she was indeed having sex.
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