“In about thirty minutes to an hour, the medications will kick in, and you’ll fall asleep,” he continues. “You should feel way better by morning.”
“Thank you so much.”
“No need to thank me, ma’am. Just doing my job,” he replies humbly as he packs up, like he doesn’t get paid his weight in gold. “This is the only infusion you’ll need, so I’ll leave now. Rafael is experienced with it, so he knows how to monitor the drip and remove the needle when the bag empties. Try not to move that hand too much—we don’t want the needle getting dislodged from your vein.”
Just as he finishes speaking, a ringtone pierces the air.
That fucking phone.The damn thing has interrupted my time with Emilia enough for me to recognize it as her ringtone.
She struggles to fish the device from her pocket one-handed, and I notice the screen is spider-webbed with cracks. That must have happened during the fight.
She stiffens when she sees the caller ID, and instinctively I signal Jamie to leave us alone. He’s done anyway. I can handle the rest. “Are you going to answer that?” I ask as the door closes behind the doctor.
She frowns. “I’m leaning towards a no.”
“Your boss?” I guess.
She glances up at me, and I don’t need words to read the confirmation on her face. “Answer it and put it on speakerphone.”
“Rafael, no, it’s–”
“Do you want me to answer it for you?” I demand. “They probably know you’re here, and if you don’t pick up, they might use that as justification to try storming in here. Is that what you want?” They wouldn’t succeed, of course, but the possibility finally motivates her to accept the call, putting it on speakerphone as I instructed.
“I heard you made your way into Rafael Moretti’s penthouse. Very clever girl.” A deep voice fills the air, and Emilia’s eyes lock with mine. If this asshole knows she’s in my home, then he knows the circumstances that brought her here. He’s not even going to ask if she’s okay?
He continues obnoxiously. “Such a shame you had to get hurt to achieve that feat, but nevertheless, you’re in. This is our chance.”
“Our chance? Our chance for what, Greg?” Emilia’s voice is so cold it raises my brow. He deserves it, sure, but this man is clearly her superior. There’s not usually room for that kind of defiance in the bureau, or any government agency for that matter.
The man seems equally surprised by her tone. He pauses, but then barrels on. “Our chance to get him and the Nightshades, obviously. You can use this chance to ransack his home and find concrete evidence to take him down.”
My fists clench as fury explodes through me. Is this how they got her to betray me ten years ago? I shove the thought aside, but my rage remains. I turn away, muscles coiled with violent tension, needing movement to keep from putting my fist through the wall.
“No.”
What?
I spin back around at Emilia's single, ice-cold response.
“No? What do you mean, no? Did you get hit in the head?” He sighs. “I’ll let you rest and call you in the morning when you’re more yourself.”
“I said no. I know what I’m saying, and I mean it. I–” The line goes dead. He hung up on her. She blows out a breath of pure frustration and deflates against the headboard. “Well, that went well.”
“That sounds like you might get into trouble. Perhaps a two-month suspension this time?” I remember her suspension last year after the Maximo situation.
“That’s if I don’t quit first.” Her casual tone makes my heart jerk in my chest. I was going to talk her into quitting—gently, over time, after I’d convinced her to marry me. But she’s getting there on her own?
“Why?”
“The attack tonight. The men—I managed to disarm one of them briefly, and the gun was the bureau’s standard issue.” Her brows furrow as she shakes her head, clearly still processing.
She doesn’t voice her suspicion, but I know what she’s thinking: someone within the bureau wants her dead.
But why? Who?
Damn it, what did she get herself into? She's not just beingtargeted by criminals—she’s being attacked by her own people. Caught between two worlds, and both sides want her dead.
I need to protect her.
