Page 45 of Bad Situation

*****

Bree Newman

Well, fuck you, Elijah-the-goddamn-saint-Pettit.

“Your desk gonna jump out and bite you, Newman?”

I fist my messenger bag to control my temper and look over at the new agent. I can’t even remember his name. He’s fresh out of the academy and, so far, he’s nothing but a little prick, kissing everyone’s ass but mine.

I raise a brow. “Heard you got burned on surveillance the other night. Good job, asswipe.”

That strips the smartass right off his face and he swivels back to his cubicle. I take two steps and toss my bag to the floor but can’t take my eyes off the two trackers sitting on my desk. The same trackers that stopped moving sometime Saturday until early this morning when I saw they both came back to the office—at the same damn time.

He showed up in court today looking more smug than my boss after I blow him.

Oh shit. Pettit even asked about White Rock Lake.

No.

My ass falls to my chair. I can’t catch my breath.

I need to tell Larry. But if I tell Larry, he’ll find out I was tracking Pettit and who knows what else. Then again, Eli has to be consorting with Montgomery. Why else would he be leaving the private garage of her building. He’s new here. No way would he know anyone swanky enough to live in a place like that. I need to figure out why he was there. I even checked his phone tolls. He never hit any number that was connected to Montgomery or that beast of a company she thinks she’s gonna run someday.

I lean back in my chair. I can do this. I can still make this happen and get the kind of case I need under my belt for a promotion. No clue where I’ll have to move to do it, but that’s okay. It’ll be a new start. The only person here who tolerates me is Dean, anyway.

And now, Larry.

Sitting up quickly, I yank open my bottom desk drawer that’s littered with paper and junk and toss in the trackers. They land, metal hitting metal, with loud clanks.

I’ll watch Pettit for now until I figure out how to track him again.

If I have to follow him myself, I will.

Chapter 13

Sexting and Arrabbiata Sauce

Jen

Tuesday, 4:23 am

Eli: Good morning.

I rub the sleep away from my eyes so I can halfway focus to respond.

Me: Morning? It’s the middle of the night. We’re in the same time zone. Why are you up?

Eli: Going for a run.

I flop back down to my pillow.

Me: Don’t ever ask me to run with you.

Eli: That’s fine. But I will ask you to do other things with me.

Holy shit. I’m not awake enough for this.

Me: It’s a little early for sexting, don’t you think?

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