Page 55 of The FBI Agents Who Stole Me

“You look weird,” he says.

“I’m trying not to plot this asshole’s murder.”

“Come on, the couple that stays together stays together. I read that in one of Lee's books. It's viral now about a masked⁠—”

I cut him a glare. “Are we going to talk about the two of you?”

“No, we’re on a pause right now in our relationship. Are we gonna talk about you and her?”

“No.”

“Touché,” he says.

I pull up to the valet of what Elliot said was some type of cop bar. It looks like the backdrop for a mob movie.

Elliot straightens as I kill the engine. “Remember the story,” he says.

“I know the story.”

“Tell me anyway.”

I exhale, fingers tightening on the wheel for one last second. “Lee became obsessed after Emily died. It eventually drove her away from me. I agreed to come here, because you told me the two of you aren’t serious, and she is doing shady shit. She picked you, but once you realized she was working against the bureau, you broke up with her and came to me for help.”

His mouth twitches. “Excellent. Especially the part where she picked me. Keep going.”

My hand swipes down my beard that is too long. “And now I resent both of you, but I agreed to come as revenge for her breaking my heart.”

I won’t need to pretend much when I think of how devastated Lee left me. I can’t focus on it right now.

“Because she picked me.”

I flip him off and push open the car door before I can overthink it.

“Let’s go. You’re such an asshole, in case no one told you today.”

“I can never hear it too much.”

Two private security types step forward before I’ve rounded the front of the car. One pats me down with both hands. The other does the same to Elliot. They find nothing. There is nothing to find. Fuller wants to confirm we don’t have any wires. Elliot said he will make it seem like they are checking for weapons before we go inside the bar.

Fuller sits in a corner booth of a half-full bar with a single drink in his hand. He's older than I expected, but he still looks like he could kill anyone in the room. His hair is thinning, and his face looks like it holds a million secrets.

“Doctor Jameson.” His smile is warm, and it clashes with his curt tone.

“Director.”

He gestures to the seat across from him. I sit. Elliot stays on his feet, positioned like hired muscle, like an ally, like a man equally exhausted by Lee Leighlan. The performance is seamless.

Fuller folds his hands. “I hear Agent Leighlan fucked you over.”

Straight to the point. Interesting.

I lower my gaze and let the silence stretch, let him see the hesitation I don’t have to fake. The hurt is real. It just isn’t the kind he imagines.

“Something like that.”

His smile widens, predator catching the scent of blood.

“She has a tendency to consume people,” I add. I wait before giving him anymore of the forced story. He fills the quiet himself, exactly as Elliot said he would.