Page 66 of Once a Killer

“I can get behind that plan,” she said, her breath ruffling his hair. He shivered as well, assuring Bree that the attraction went both ways.

They stood in the corner, pretending to be completely absorbed in each other. Bree stood with her back to the wall, watching the crowd. Jameson was at her side, his heat washing over her. No one seemed overly interested in Jameson, but that meant nothing. If someone intended him harm, they wouldn’t broadcast it to the crowd.

Jameson leaned closer and said, “How much longer do we need to stay here to make it look good? I’m ready to head up to the room as soon as you are.”

“Did you want to talk to Theo again?” she asked.

“Not tonight. We’ll have lunch with him tomorrow, maybe.”

“Okay. I’m ready to go anytime you are.”

As she turned around a man in a Marine’s uniform walked toward her. She noticed the golden oak leaf Major’s insignia before she saw his face. When she did, she sucked in a sharp breath.

“Bree?” Jameson asked. “What’s…”

“Bree Gordon.” A too-familiar, very unwelcome voice slid into the conversation. “You’re the last person I expected to see at this elite little get-together.”

She tamped down her instinctive urge to claw his face off. “And why’s that, Cap… I should sayMajorLarrimore?” she said calmly without flinching or looking away. “Congratulations on your promotion. For service to your country?” She raised one eyebrow, and Larrimore’s gaze narrowed as red swept over his face. He looked shocked to see her. As if he’d thought she was dead.

He leaned closer. “Someone needs to teach you to mind your manners, Bree,” he said through clenched teeth.

“You think so?” She held the guy’s gaze until he looked away. “Are you offering?” she asked, holding his gaze. “No, what am I thinking? You don’t do business with American citizens, do you, Major?”

Larrimore’s face turned beet red. His eyes narrowed as he gazed from Bree to Jameson. Back to Bree. “I see you didn’t learn any lessons from me. We’ll have to remedy that.” He nodded once. “Enjoy the conference, Gordon.” He switched his gaze to Jameson. “You too, Ford.”

Without answering, she tightened her grip on Jameson’s arm and turned her back on Larrimore. As they walked away, she heard him murmur, “Bitch.” But she didn’t stop or react in any way.

“What the hell, Bree?” Jameson murmured into her ear.

“Not here,” she mouthed.

Before they could escape the reception, a grey-haired man with a bland, unremarkable face slid in front of them. “Bree Gordon.” His gaze swept up her body and back down, too slowly. “This is the last place I expected to see you.”

“Same goes, Kingsley,” she said, bumping him as they moved past.

“Bree,” he called, and something vindictive in Kingsley’s voice had her slowing. “Remember our last conversation.” Kingsley’s low voice sandpapered against her nerves. “Nothing’s changed.”

She turned slowly. Let her gaze travel down his body, then back up. Slowly. “I can see that, Kingsley. You should take better care of yourself. You wouldn’t want your bad habits to shorten your life.”

She took a step closer to Kingsley. “And I think everything has changed,” Bree said, staring at Kingsley until he shifted his feet. Moved farther away from her.

His gaze fastened on Jameson, and he smiled. “Dr. Ford,” he said. “I understand you’re the man of the hour at this conference.”

Jameson stared at Kingsley for a long minute. Finally he said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m only here to meet with friends.”

“You have something that many people want, Dr. Ford,” Kingsley said. “I’d watch my back if I were you.”

“Is that a threat?” Jameson said, narrowing his gaze.

“Just advice,” Kingsley said. He nodded at Bree. “I look forward to seeing you again soon, Bree.” He walked away before she could respond.

Jameson was frozen beside her, and she gripped his forearm tightly. Dragging him out of the room, she made herself walk normally toward the elevator bank. When they were away from the room, Jameson bent and murmured, “What the hell, Bree?”

“Not here,” she said between clamped teeth.

She stabbed the elevator call button hard, and stood beside Jameson, anger coursing through her as she waited. When the elevator car arrived, she dragged him into it and pressed the close door button, even though several other people were approaching the elevators.

Jameson drew her close as they rode in silence. He wrapped his arm around her waist, and she leaned against him, still shaking with anger. She was glad Jameson was with her. Glad he’d been present for that little scene in the reception room. Glad she had a witness to what those two men had said. Jameson’s presence settled her, even though it felt like she was being buffeted by a hurricane.

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