Risking It All for Her Boss: A Heroes for Hire novel (Entangled Ignite)

by Sharron McClellan

  “I wish I didn’t.” She hadn’t spoken a truer statement in a long while.

  “What happened? Who did you lose?” Pauline asked.

  The urge to blurt out her past was almost overwhelming, and Eva dug her fingers into her thighs. This wasn’t therapy. “It doesn’t matter. We need to focus on you and your father.”

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like some time alone.” Pauline’s hands twisted in her lap.

  “Of course.” Eva rose. “My colleagues will be in touch with you this afternoon.”

  “What if the kidnappers call?”

  “We’re already put a tap on your phone,” she said. “It’s being monitored twenty-four–seven. If they call, I’ll get word.”

  “You can do that?”

  “It’s part of the HRS agreement. Read the fine print.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Pauline twisted her fingers in her lap. “But I won’t know what to say.”

  Who would? “They’re sending someone over. Don’t worry.”

  “Can’t you stay?”

  She wished she could, but negotiations weren’t what she did best. Pauline needed a professional. She shook her head. “I’m the last person you want trying to help your father.”

  “You got him out of Colombia, and you’re still working to save him. You care about him, you’re tenacious, and that makes you exactly who I want.”

  She clasped Pauline’s hand in hers and gave a squeeze. “Thanks.” But when she rose to leave, the woman tightened her grip.

  “Do you think they’ll call?”

  If it was about money, of course they would. In this case, Eva knew better. Whoever had taken Felix wasn’t going to call. They were going to keep a low profile and put the former weapons maker to work.

  She shuddered at the knowledge of what the scientist was capable of. “I hope so.”

  Pauline shook her head. “Not good enough. Promise me that you’ll find him.”

  Eva wanted to, but the harsh reality was that they might not. “I’ll try, but it’s not my skill set. I’ll help, but that’s all I can do.”

  “Promise me.”

  Never make a promise you don’t know you can keep. Another Quinn rule. But Pauline’s insistence touched her. The young woman needed her, and Eva needed HRS. They were two women fighting to keep their families intact. “You have my word.”

  And Pauline released her.

  …

  “So what’s next?” Eva asked. When she’d arrived at the car, she’d relayed the information she’d gathered to Quinn, and then he’d called the local office to confirm that an agent was on his way to Pauline’s.

  The “what next” was Eva taking a plane back to the Las Angeles. Not that he wanted to tell her that. Yet.

  “What do you mean? For Pauline?” Quinn kept his eyes on the road, maneuvering the Mercedes S-Class through traffic and onto the highway. The interview at Pauline’s hadn’t been a disaster, but she hadn’t been able to get anything useful even without him there.

  “No. For Santa,” she replied.

  He tried not to smile. Of all the things he missed about being with Eva, her sarcasm was in the top five.

  “Of course for Pauline,” she said.

  “Oliver stays with her, and we wait for a phone call. There isn’t much else.”

  “That wasn’t what I meant.”

  He knew what she meant. Would they find Felix? Would he do something unspeakable? And how would his daughter get through whatever happened?

  “She’ll be fine,” he said.

  Eva leaned her head against the window. “But she’s so young.”

  “So are you, and you came out pretty good.”

  She blushed at the compliment. “Thanks.”

  Another top-five item he missed. She’d been raised on the streets in Bogotá. Suffered hunger. Fear. So many horrors that an adult shouldn’t experience, much less a child. And still, she colored as if raised in a convent.

  They crossed the 14th Street Bridge, and Eva turned in the seat. “Where are we going?”

  He recognized that tone. She’d figured it out. “Airport.” There was no sense in lying now.

  She grabbed his arm, and he swerved to the left a few feet, the tires kicking up gravel from the shoulder. “I thought we were through with this discussion,” she said as he straightened the car back onto the highway.

  “Me, too.” And that was his fault. He should have sent her home as soon as he’d walked into the hotel room. What was he thinking? Letting her stay this long wasn’t going to earn him any points with Temperance. The director had already called him twice, and each time, he’d sent the message to voice mail, buying time as he tried to decide what to do.

  He was going to have hell to pay when he did answer.

  “I made a promise to Felix and to Pauline. I’m staying.”

  “You’re a broken record, Eva,” he said, resisting the urge to let her stay on the case so he could keep an eye on her.

  He missed the B.E., Before Eva, days, or so he called them in his thoughts. That time when he hadn’t known her and making the right decision had been easy.

  The days and hours before she almost died, and he did what was necessary to spare them both. Because once he’d met her, his senses had become anything but clear. He’d tried to keep his head level. To control his amped-up emotions when she was in the field. But as much as he tried, what he felt was stronger. He was in love. Head-over-heels, crazy, can’t-think-about-anything-but-her, love.

  And that would get them both killed.

  Breaking off their relationship had been the hardest decision of his life, yet here he was again. They might not share a bed, but that didn’t seem to matter.

  She drew him in with each touch of her hand. With each small smile, she favored him a victory. And when she tossed her hair over her shoulder, a nervous habit that he remembered from their first date, it almost brought him to his knees with the desire to run his hands through the thick, dark strands.

  She had to go. “You’re leaving.”

  “You’re not my boss.”

  “That’s exactly what I am.” He spotted a sign for Reagan National Airport. Thank God. He floored the accelerator.

  She twisted in the seat until she faced him. “You can’t force me to go.”

  “I can, and I will.” Though he had no idea how he was going to back up that claim. It wasn’t as if he could toss her over his shoulder and carry her to the gate and strap her into the seat.

  He wished.

  “I’ll quit.” She crossed her arms.

  She’d quit HRS? He knew a bluff when he heard one. He gave a snort of derision. “Go ahead.”

  “You would let me walk away?”

  “If you were serious, we’d talk. But you’re not quitting. We both know that.”

  “You don’t know me. Not anymore.”

  He wished it were true. But after they’d parted, he hadn’t let go. Using the weak pretext that he was keeping tabs on his student, he’d tracked her movements and read her reports. So he still knew her. “Wrong.”

  “Have you been stalking me?” Her eyes narrowed.

  Did she know? Or was she fishing?

  Her gaze darted across his features, assessing, judging his reaction.

  Fishing. Definitely. “No need to stalk. You can’t change who you are.”

  She flung herself back in the seat, arms still folded across her chest.

  He almost sighed with relief at making a bit of headway in the argument. Hell, making any headway in any argument with Eva was a miracle.

  She continued, “But since you know me so well, you know I can’t let this go.”

  How the hell had he walked into that trap? He rubbed the furrow between his brows.

  Behind him, a police car approached, lights flashing. He pulled over to the side to let it pass, but instead, it pulled up behind him.

  “Were you speeding?” Eva asked.

  “I don’t think so,” he said, but rolled down the w
indow and came face-to-face with a revolver.

  Shit.

  “What seems to be the problem, officer?” Quinn asked.

  “Hands on the wheel and step out of the car,” he said, opening the door.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed another cop had a gun on Eva.

  Instinct necessitated that he protect her, but he reminded himself that the man with the gun was a cop, and they were the good guys.

  Easing out of the car, he let himself be handcuffed. “What’s going on?”

  He watched as they cuffed Eva and hauled her toward the police cruiser.

  The cop pushed him in the same direction. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Pauline Bennett.”

  Chapter Five

  Eva waited in the police station, watching through the glass as Quinn and the officers discussed her fate. Initially, the police had taken both herself and Quinn into custody, but it didn’t take long before she became a person of interest in the case.

  The evidence was circumstantial, but the lead detective, Harris, seemed intent on keeping her for the twenty-four-hour hold since she was the last to see Felix and the last to see Pauline.

  And then there was the money that Tempe had neglected to mention. Pauline might live in an inexpensive apartment, but it seemed that her stepfather was over-the-top rich.

  Kidnappings. Money. And she was in the middle of it.

  But why the cuffs? She yanked at the metal bracelets that attached her right wrist to the wooden office chair. She might be a suspect, but she was also an agent.

  “Got a minute?” Quinn walked into the room, folder in hand.

  She jingled the cuffs. “It doesn’t look like I’m going anywhere.”

  “Yeah. I can explain some of that,” he said with a grimace. “There was an anonymous tip that said you were part of the kidnapping scheme and to check the security cameras.”

  “Any evidence to support it?”

  He handed her the folder, and she set it on her lap and flipped it open. It contained pictures of Pauline’s apartment. Close-ups of broken coffee cups. Blood spatter.

  And herself, standing in front of Oliver—the agent sent over to help Pauline in case the kidnappers called—with a gun.

  “What the hell?” She stared harder, the accusation making her sick to her stomach. “I’m not even wearing the same clothes.” She snapped the folder closed, and it slid to the floor. “I don’t know where they got this shot—or how they created it—but it’s obviously a setup.”

  “I know that, and you know that. But Harris isn’t as sure. It’ll take a while to get to the truth,” Quinn said, gathering the pictures together.

  “We don’t have a while. Felix is out there creating who-knows-what.”

  “Just be patient,” Quinn said, heading out the door. He hesitated. “I know it’s not your strong suit but try.” And he slammed it closed, locking her in.

  So, here she was. Stuck. Waiting for the police to figure out the truth.

  She scooted the chair toward the window, the legs scraping across the floor. She and Quinn had spent the night in the station, and the sun now rose over the tops of the government buildings that lined the street below.

  In the distance, she spotted the Washington monument. She’d planned to visit it, and some of the other memorials, while she was in town, but if she knew Tempe, Eva would be on a plane back to the west coast as soon as she was absolved of any wrongdoing.

  Movement in the adjoining room caught her attention, and she scooted the chair again, this time to face the glass partition as Detective Pete Harris came back to talk to Quinn. His gray hair was buzzed short and his face lined, but he had a solid physique that a younger man would be proud to display.

  He handed Quinn another file. This was it. She was sure of it. The moment of truth. Would they let her go, or would they hold her?

  Quinn flipped through the pages, scowling as always. Then, the scowl changed to a grin. That could only be good news, and the knot in her belly relaxed.

  File still in hand, he headed toward her and entered the office, Detective Harris on his heels. “So, what’s the news?” she asked.

  “Pauline’s not dead,” the detective said.

  Relieved, she sagged in the chair. “Thanks.” She hadn’t realized how much that weighed on her until it fell off her shoulders.

  “There was a lot of blood. Most of it was Agent Oliver’s, but we knew that.”

  Quinn continued, “But some belongs to Pauline. We think she fought back.”

  “Kudos to her,” she replied with more than a little sincerity. After meeting Pauline, she hadn’t been sure the woman was capable of a physical fight. Sure, she had steel in her spine. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have hated her father for over ten years, then fought so hard to get him back.

  But physically, she couldn’t fight a kitten and win. Still, she had tried, and that demanded respect.

  “And what about me? Have you figured out that I’m innocent?” Eva asked, rattling the handcuffs.

  “Nope,” he said. “You’re going home. So why don’t you stay where you are for now?”

  In cuffs? “You can’t send me home,” she said, focusing her attention on the detective.

  “It’s not my call,” Harris replied. “And you should be glad for that. If it up to me, I’d keep you here until that poor girl and her father were found.”

  Great. He still thought she was guilty, which made the desire to stay in DC even stronger. She had to clear her name. And her conscience.

  “I can help,” she said, trying to buy time. “Let me go.”

  “He can’t.” Quinn set the file down on the desk with his customary sigh of exasperation. “Tempe talked to the head of the department, and they have agreed that they will release you to her custody.”

  “She’s coming here, isn’t she?”

  “She’s already in flight and should arrive in the next hour or so.”

  Eva groaned. That meant she didn’t have much time. Once Tempe arrived, she’d make sure the cuffs stayed on until the plane was in the air. “What if I refuse to go?”

  “You can stay here. In jail,” Harris replied. “You might be back here anyway. It’s the only reason I’m releasing you to Ms. Smith.”

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  “You’re connected to both kidnappings and a murder,” Harris said. “I think that’s something.”

  Eva bit her tongue before a few choice swear words came out. Yelling at the detective wasn’t going to help. She needed to be calm. Smart.

  Like she’d been in Colombia. “Detective Harris” —she let her tone drop in range so her voice glided over his name— “would you give my partner and me a few moments?”

  The older man hesitated.

  “I promise I won’t leave.”

  “You promise? Well, that makes all the difference in the world.”

  Jerk. “Just for a minute,” she said. “Unless you like seeing women all tied up. Is that your thing?” And she winked at him.

  His pale skin turned a vivid shade of pink, and he hurried out the door.

  Quinn rolled his eyes as soon as the door was closed. “Nice to see you haven’t forgotten everything I taught you.”

  “It comes in handy,” she said, her tone back to normal.

  “Okay, so what do you need?”

  “There’s one more option,” she suggested. “You can get me out of here. Now.”

  He chuckled. “No.”

  She glared at him. “I don’t need your permission. I asked out of courtesy.”

  “You asked because you need the key to the cuffs.”

  “Do you have it?”

  “I do.”

  “Then give it to me. For once, help me instead of making my life more difficult.”

  The smile died from his lips, and his face darkened. “You’ve been a pain in my ass from the day I took you on as a student, and you still hadn’t learned your lesson.”

  “I haven’t learn
ed? You watched how I worked Harris.”

  “That’s not what I mean, and we both know it.”

  She did, but she was past caring. “Fine. Just go.”

  But he didn’t leave. Kneeling so he was at her level, his green eyes tried to pierce the hard exterior she used to keep everyone out. She refused to look away.

  Let him try.

  “Eva.” His voice softened as he said her name, the intimacy making her fidget in the chair. “You can’t do what you want all the time. There is a reason for protocol.”

  He hadn’t changed. As always, the company was more important, and the rules mattered more than people. She shook her head. “And you still haven’t learned that protocol isn’t always the answer. It didn’t save Felix, and following the book won’t save Pauline.”

  Not that he cared. He lived and breathed “the book.” She knew that better than anyone.

  He scowled at her. “Suit yourself.”

  …

  Quinn slammed the door behind him, then took a few seconds to clench and unclench his fists. “Sometimes, I hate that woman.”

  “I can see why,” Harris said.

  “Excuse me?” Quinn said, hackles rising. It was one thing for him to bitch about Eva, but another for someone else. “You don’t even know her.”

  “I know her kind.” A hostile scowl aged his already worn face. “Thinks she’s smarter than you. Me. Everyone.”

  “Not smarter,” Quinn countered. “More passionate.”

  “Passionate or obsessive?” Harris asked, shrugging off the rest of the explanation.

  “The former,” Quinn sat at an empty desk. The last thing the agency needed was a cop who had it out for Eva. A few more smart-ass comments from her, and the detective would make her stay in the cell until Felix and Pauline were recovered, either dead or alive. “She might be passionate, but that doesn’t mean she’s guilty of anything other than an overdeveloped sense of responsibility. I’ve worked with her on a number of assignments, and she’s one of the best field agents I know. Her exuberance might be annoying, but it’s not lethal unless you’re the enemy.”

  Harris took the chair at the adjoining desk. “From what your Ms. Smith told me, Ms. Torres just came off a tough assignment. Are you sure she’s recovered? That she knows who the enemy is?”