Page 50 of The FBI Agents Who Stole Me

I swipe at the gun, but even in his daze, he’s fast. The barrel swings back up and points on my chest.

I’m fairly sure if he wanted me dead, I already would be. I still hate the guy.

“You could have broken my nose, asshole," he says, rubbing the spot where I slammed into him.

My own head is pounding, but I keep my face blank. “You deserve worse.”

His brows knit together, but he shakes his head like he’s trying to clear his thoughts.

“I love her,” I tell him unafraid to share my feelings for some unknown reason. Of all people, I don’t know why I say it out loud to him.

“Yeah,” he whispers, almost like a confession or an apology. He’s hard to read.

“Well, you won. Why are you here?”

He holds his hands up, fingers splayed like a peace offering. Then he lowers the gun before slipping it into the back of her jeans.

“Lee’s been working against the FBI. She’s been stealing, exposing people, and hacking into fucking everything. It’s a nightmare. I’ve tried to find a way to cover it up or at the very least blame someone else,” he says and throws his hands up in frustration.

“There is no walking away from this. If they catch her, she’s going to be found guilty. I’m talking an island of solitary, with the exception of torture. She won’t survive.”

The desperation on his face makes me consider his words. The man she killed in her house must have been part of whatever she’s mixed up in.

“Why is she doing this?” I ask. “I’m biased because I’m crazy about her, but I never saw her as an evil terrorist type…”

He exhales, long and tired. “Will you help her? It might drag you down with her. With us.”

I look him up and down. We are quite opposite. He’s got that surfer golden hair thing going on. In contrast to my olive skin and beard. Is that why she went for him? Someone completely different.

“Tell me what you propose.”

“Is that a yes?”

My blood runs cold at the thought of not being what she wanted.

“Yes.”

We stare at each other, and then he nods at me in understanding. We’re both willing to do anything for her.

CHAPTER 15

Lee

Julian makes breakfast. It’s sweet, but I can’t eat right now. My stomach is too knotted.

He tilts his head at my plate, and I take a bite to appease him then get back to it.

There are hundreds of files. Nothing is organized. Folders inside folders, logs labeled with strings of numbers, photographs buried between medical reports and encrypted surveillance notes. I set up a system to try to find some way to go through everything based on common words.

Lauren. Harper. Eva. Emily.

My cursor hovers over Emily’s file until my hand starts to shake.

I start with Lauren instead. It’s a chicken-shit move, and I know it.

Lauren had a handler. His photograph loads the second I open the folder labeled with her subject number. Mid-thirties, dark hair, a plain face engineered to vanish in any crowd. I don’t recognize him. I don’t recognize Lauren either.

The logs of their meetings look harmless at first: dates, times, locations, durations. Then my skin prickles.