Page 57 of The FBI Agents Who Stole Me

Elliot and I made this plan with the cartel's help. Saint said they are solid and don’t use this location, so it’s perfect for throwing off the feds. Which I feel bad about, especially if this comes back to Marge. It shouldn't though. The Vegas are untouchable.

I pull out the paper with the address and hand it to Fuller.

“This might be useful. Agent Ryker, you found yourself a good informant.”

Elliot smiles at him and claps his back.

“Welcome to the FBI, Dr. Jameson. Your support is appreciated. Keep us informed if you hear from her. She’s a traitor and needs to face repercussions for her actions.”

“Of course, sir.”

The meeting ends quickly after that. Handshakes that feel like deals with the devil happen as we make vague promises to Fuller.

I walk out of the bar with Elliot at my side, both of us silent until we’re three blocks away in the BMW.

“I think he bought it. You did great, Julian. Look at us, we’re basically partners. They’ll be giving you a badge in no time.” He grins.

“Firm pass. Hopefully, the fake evidence at the docks can throw them off and give her some more time,” I say and grip the wheel tighter.

“It will give me some more time,” Elliot says, tone grim now. “And add some circumstantial evidence at least.”

I should tell him about the connection to the missing agent. The man Lee killed. But I keep it to myself. Would he stop helping her if he knew she killed a fellow agent? I can’t risk it.

“Will it be enough?”

He never answered me.

CHAPTER 17

Lee

“Fuck you,” I spit out, lunging at Elliot. It isn’t my best move. I was hoping to slam him back against the door.

Instead, he catches me midair, with an infuriating amount of ease, and holds both of my wrists against my sides. My bare feet swing inches above the floor while I thrash in his hold, still sticky with Julian and angry enough to take a bite out of him.

“Let go. I want to kill you,” I say, trying to pretend it sounded tough.

“No. Listen, kid,” he says calmly. “We’re going to talk. You’re not going to kill me.”

I kick his thigh, twisting my body, trying to break his grip. He barely reacts, tightening his hold instead.

“Get your hands off me,” I say. “You don’t get to touch me.”

His jaw clenches.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I know I have no right anymore. But right now, I’m going to keep you in place so you listen. Because if I let go, you'll do something reckless. And I'm not letting you get hurt because you're angry.”

A bitter laugh rolls out of me. “You expect me to believe you care? You don’t get to lie to me, betray me, show up here like some possessive action hero, and then decide I need protecting.”

His brown eyes flash. Good. I want him mad. I want him to feel an ounce of what I feel and see how fast he drowns in it.

“You can’t control me,” I snap. It’s a lie. He could. Hell, he has. I’ve been on my knees for him more times than I can count, letting him strip away all my control until I was only left with him. That was right before he fucked us.

His eyes flick to my mouth then back up, meeting mine. Just being in his proximity makes my heart race. Because I still know exactly how his mouth feels against mine, and I hate how badly I still want it.

He's also an asshole who gave God knows what to the people who killed my sister. I think he did, anyway. Honestly, what do I really know about Elliot anyway?

“Is Elliot even your real name?”