He nods only once. As annoying as he can be, he’s a dutiful agent. Exactly one minute and forty-five seconds later, he pulls the SUV onto the curb in front of the hotel.
“I’ll take the main level. You go up,” Hadley says.
I don’t hesitate. I sprint to the second floor housing the restaurant, my head on a swivel.
Why would Liam be here? I thought he fled the country.
But I’m not about to pass up the opportunity. I’m going to catch him and then Gavin—I mean, S-A-C Ford—willfinallysee my potential. Maybe he’ll ask me on a date, and we will fall in love during a high-speed chase. I don’t know how that fits in, but it sounds romantic. Ford is a good guy, and Ideserveto fall in love with a good guy, for once.
I hit the top step, my attention zeroed in on the west hallway where a man in a black suit disappeared. It has to be Liam. The man dresses in only one style: pretentious.
I dodge a waiter, holding my badge as I run past as an apology for nearly tripping him. Being an FBI agent has some perks. I can be rude and have an excuse, which is only one of the reasons I always carry my badge, on and off duty.
The hall is quiet when I reach it. No sign of Liam. But a gust of hot Phoenix air filters through the enclosed hallway. He took the stairwell.
I rush to the door and listen. Did he go down? No. His footsteps are coming from above. I pull open the door and sprint up the stairs. I should radio Hadley, but this is the first solid minute of peace I’ve had in three weeks. The pounding of footsteps reaches me. Liam is about two stories up.Got him.
I use the railing and my long legs to haul myself up without letting my feet pound too hard and alerting him to my presence. But every sound echoes up the cavernous stairwell.
A door opens on the level above me and I speed up. I hit the fifth floor, and duck inside the dim hallway, the lush carpet silencing the thumping of my boots.
I hear a click, then a door opening and shutting around the corner.
Catching my breath, I round the corner, relieved to find a single door labeledsuite. Because of course, the egomaniac would book a suite for himself while running from the law. And a large bounty, if rumors at the office are to be believed.
I listen for a moment, confirming the sound of someone inside. This hotel is old enough they still have actual keys, making the lock much easier to pick. I test the handle just in case, and… he left it unlocked.Idiot.I hesitate only a moment before kicking open the door, gun outstretched.
Liam looks up from the bar as I step inside, a mug in his hand, a self-righteous smile curling his lips. He hardly seems shocked as his placid blue eyes meet mine. “Special Agent Cruz. It’s about time. You look lovely today.”
Unease crawls over my skin. He left the door open on purpose. And he knows my name.
This is a trap.
I consider bolting out the door, but I’m the one with the gun. And I’m not about to let this man get away again.
“Hands up, Hawthorne.” I aim at his chest.
Liam lowers the mug to the counter and stalks around the kitchen island, something like intrigue growing in his eyes. “I must say, I find this situation very seductive. Tell me, did you bring handcuffs as well?”
I glower, utterly repulsed. The man is a well-known womanizer, and I will not give in to his hideous charms. Not again, anyway. It’s for this reason, among various others, that I hate him. His wavy brown hair and the day-old scruff along his chin are unfair. How unfortunate that a man so awful can be so attractive.
“Get on the ground, and I’ll show you exactly how I plan to use my handcuffs.”
Something flashes in his eyes, but instead of getting on his knees like an obedient puppy, he walks aimlessly around the suite. When he reaches the livingroom, he unbuttons the cuffs of his dress shirt, rolling his sleeves to reveal tanned forearms with veins crisscrossing like spiderwebs. Have I ever noticed forearms before? I clench my jaw, keeping my emotions in check. I will not be flustered or distracted by him. I’ve got a job, and I plan to do it.
He drops onto the leather couch, spreading his arms as if to invite me into an embrace. “Shall we begin?”
I angle the gun toward his heart. “Sure, left shoulder or right?”
“Ah, Cruz, you’re no fun.”
I’ve been hearing that a lot lately and, quite frankly, it’s getting on my nerves. You know what form of fun is severely underrated? Arresting people.
“Up.” I stalk forward.
He gives me a world-weary kind of sigh and heaves off the couch, exaggerating the effort. “I suppose we can do it your way, though you’ll have to impress me.” His voice deepens with each word, and a chill swoops through me as he approaches.
Impress him?
