Page 3 of Dirty Quinn
Shit.
“Not well.” I flick my hand in the air as a show of indifference. “I know of her.” I don’t want to admit to knowing Daria well, especially when I don’t know what he’s doing here or what he wants with me.
“Did you not just spend two weeks in Maldives with her? Courtesy of my personal plane?”
Well, shit.
“How do you know that?”
“I think you’ll find that I know everything, Agent Roberts. Very little is kept from me.”
“Did Daria tell you I was in Maldives courtesy of your plane?”
“No.”
I watch him as he watches me. Neither of us wanting to give too much. Or maybe that’s just me since he seems to know everything already and has no problem sharing it with me.
“What difference does it make if I was?” I ask just to see if he’ll share anything with me.
“Your friend David was killed earlier tonight, was he not?”
“How do you know about that?”
“I believe I’ve already explained myself where my knowledge is concerned.”
I nod in response. He’s right, he did. “He was, yes.”
“And that was Quinn Foster’s house you just snuck out of after giving her four orgasms. Your sexual prowess while intoxicated is quite impressive, Agent.”
Asshole.
“Leave Quinn out of this, she has nothing to do with it.”
“Oh, on the contrary, I think she has everything to do with it. But for now, I’ll do as you wish and leave her be. My only point in bringing her up is to make you aware of how much I know and how quickly I know it.”
I pick up on a hidden warning in his words. Like I now need to watch what I do, because he will know the minute I do it.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“What do you want with me?” I ask.
“I will make you an offer you can’t refuse.”
“I doubt that.”
“Let me rephrase. I will make you an offer you will not refuse.”
The car picks up speed, so I’m guessing we are on the freeway now. The only windows are those in the doors, and I’m not next to one. I wait for him to continue.
“Effective”—he glances at his watch—“less than an hour ago, they have transferred you out of the criminal investigative sector of the FBI and you are now working undercover.”
“Excuse me?” I have to forcibly refrain from jumping across the space between us and pulling him up by the necktie, demanding to know what gives him the right to make changes regarding my life.
“Yes,” he continues as though I’ve said nothing. “Your new assignment is with me and my organization.”
“I can’t do that. It won’t work,” I interject.
“You can. And it will.”
