Page 18 of Bad Situation

I sigh and bang on her door one more time with my fist, holding it there. “I’m not leaving until you hear me out, Jensen.”

That does it. I hear the lock thrown and she swings the door open—her face angry and her hair in a mess pulled high on her head. She’s even a little flushed, just not the way I prefer making a woman flush, but definitely the way a woman gets when she’s pissed.

The other clue she’s pissed is that she holds a finger up to me.

Damn. The index finger.

Somehow, I bite back my smile. Jensen Montgomery has a fire inside her and I hope to hell and back this shit gets cleared up soon so I can experience it in other ways.

“Do not call me Jensen.”

This time I can’t hide my smile. “Noted.”

Leaning on the door frame, I take a second to look her over. She seems smaller, probably no taller than five-seven on bare feet and she’s in a pair of ripped jeans that are snug around her slim hips and loose everywhere else. Her t-shirt, on the other hand, fits her like a second skin. But what I like most of all is she’s makeup free and by far the most beautiful at this moment of all the times I’ve seen her. I regret the fact I can’t touch her.

“You’re watching my building? I’m under surveillance?”

I tip my head. “Not that kind of surveillance.”

I push off the doorjamb and move to step inside, but she puts a palm up. “You’re not coming in. Stay right there. I have a camera recording your every move. Now, say what you have to say and leave. I’ve had a shit day and I’m ready for it to be over.”

I lean back onto the doorframe. “You didn’t call me.”

Her eyes widen. “Are you deranged? You’re the FBI. After the last two days, why in the hell would I call you?”

I fold my arms. “I was taken off your case today.”

Her eyes flare but she says nothing. Smart.

“Not because of last Saturday,” I go on. “I don’t know who you’ve told about our time on the dance floor, but no one at the FBI knows about that.”

Mirroring my stance, she crosses her arms, challenging the threads of her already skin-tight tee and I have to force myself to focus on her copper-brown eyes.

“Don’t say anything. Just listen.”

“I’m not an idiot and I’m innocent. Use that against me in the court of law, Elijah.” She throws my name at me as if it’s a curse word.

I can’t help but hope she’s right on both counts and try to calm her. “I’m trying to do you a favor here. Are you going to hear me out?”

“I don’t know what favor you can do for me, but you’re down to four minutes.”

Shaking my head, I lay it out for her. “I’m not completely breaking the rules since your attorneys will get everything when discovery is presented. Bree got the search warrant based on those shell companies. Do you own some investment companies dealing in natural gas?”

She says nothing but shifts her weight. I’ll take that as a yes.

“Well, those shell companies that have been buying up shares of Birmingham Refining are tied to one of your investment companies in Delaware, which just happens to be the easiest state to set up shell corporations with little scrutiny.”

I swear, that made the color drain from her face.

I go on. “I told you I’m new here and that wasn’t a lie. I’ve only worked with Bree for a week, but she has tunnel vision. She’s putting all her cards on the fact you’re acting alone. Depending on where you were the night of February nineteenth around eight-thirty when those corps were created online, that’s a crack in your case.”

Her expression changes to one of cautious curiosity.

I lower my voice. “Check the date and times when those dummy corporations were filed and compare them to your whereabouts.”

This time she exhales as her face falls.

“I assume someone in your position probably keeps a pretty tight schedule and you still have a record of where you were months ago.”

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